Title: Au Pair (4B/10 + Epilogue)
Word Count: ~6,000
Characters: (varies) Kurt/Blaine, Rachel, Isobelle, Blaine's parents - William and Monica
Warnings: Oh so AU! and very mild suggestions of homophobia/ignorance
Rating: PG-13 - NC-17 (individual Chapter rating PG)
Summary: With money tight living with Ms Rachel Berry in their 'beautiful little broom cupboard', Kurt knows he needs to find a job. There just happens to be a family who require a nanny. Their son is in need of an escape too. Minus a magic carpet bag, cue Kurt Hummel.
I just can't seem to STOP writing this section!! Help me. It grew a little so I'm going to have to add a third part which I will try to have posted tomorrow. It follows directly from this part but this is already rather long and came to a natural ending point so I decided to post : )
There is an initial flashback and you’ll understand what it’s all about to begin with. I hope it makes some of the previous issues clearer. It was never my intention to make Mr and Mrs Anderson the ultimate bad guys. They’ve made terribly unfortunate decisions in the wrong way but their motives are something I’m interested in and I hope that bit makes sense to you : )
I used the NYU Mixtapes and completely mangled their ethos and performance focus for my own ends so, please forgive me!
Writing their flirting is far too fun for me by the way. I’ll be sad when the tension’s gone : (
Thank you so much for all of your kind words about this story on here and tumblr. I hope you enjoy this installment :)
* * * * * * * * *
It was another long day. After working on the same large scale acquisition for months, the whole process was becoming tedious. Steely determination, a good deal of passive aggressive scheduling directed against the interns so they picked up the slack and endless cup of the strongest Brazilian coffee were getting the office through the final stages of one of the largest corporate deals of their careers to-date.
It meant late nights and plenty of time trying to forget about the things at home: things he’d rather be trying to work out instead of berating the second year intern for her shoddy document compilation. The truth being that it is not hard to retain date order no matter how distracted you are and apparently, word on the in-office grapevine was that she was in the process of a messy divorce.
Served her right. She was probably as lazy with her relationship as she was with her job.
It was unfair, granted, but the days were long and there was the small matter of Blaine to think on. He was spending too much time thinking on it, that was the problem.
“Will? Angela’s asking to go through the tax records again. She says she needs your permission? She’s got that face on, where she pouts and expects anyone to roll over and give her what she wants.”
William looked up over the edge of his horn-rimmed glasses and scowled. Third time this week and the request was getting tedious.
If she insists but just let me know if she asks again because I’m getting her in to talk about the need for efficiency when we’re running to schedule. Thanks, Rob. Just put her in the conference room and slap a time limit on. It’ll keep her fast.”
Rob nodded swiftly, smirking, and slipped out. The door was closed no longer than a minute and there was another knock. William huffed out a lung full of air and called for them to enter.
“Sir? I was wondering if I could schedule a meeting? I have personal matters to discuss with you.”
Celine was a treasured employee, one who had been with them long before they’d reached levels they’d always dreamed of. She’d started as an intern and was now very much part of the firm that losing her would feel akin to a missing limb. They’d always has a friends-but-we’ll-ignore-it-for-the-good-o
William nodded his assent and signalled for her to take a seat. There’d been talk of her having family problems but this was the first time she’d made them known.
“I know that we’re exceptionally busy, Sir – “
“William, Celine. We know one another well enough to dispense with the niceties.” She grinned, tucking her hair behind one ear with a deep breath.
“Of course. I wanted to ask for a short period of compassionate leave.”
She took the seat beside the desk and William caught the tremble of her hands as they lay in her lap. “How long are we talking, Celine?”
She frowned, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. Her face appeared pained. “Only a week or so, Will. It’s my son. He has been having a few troubles for a while but it recently became much worse and, as you know, he only has me and I’m finding it so difficult to juggle everything. I’d work from home, of course, but – “
“Has something happened? Do you need to take a longer period of time?”
She glanced down, shoulders wilting. “He is, um, he is having a hard time of it at school. He’s… he’s gay you see and not only do his class mates find it hard accepting him, they have been making his life difficult for some time. We thought we had it under control but unfortunately it became much worse recently.”
William washed cold, sickly and quick. “And is your son ok?”
“I spent Monday night in hospital,” she said quietly, looking up at him with eyes clear-wide and glistening. “He needs me and I’m scared for him. I don’t think I manage everything alone at the moment and as much as I’ve tried, it’s not working out. I was afraid to be so straight with you, Will, but I can’t expect you to allow me a sabbatical without the full truth.”
He leaned back in his chair, heart hammering. “I understand why you came to me, Celine, and you know the level of confidentiality I operate under. Anything words spoken in this office goes no further. I’d be comfortable giving you a short period of full leave without any necessity to work but then we can discuss working from home until you feel ready to come back to the office. Does this sound acceptable to you?”
Nodding, she leaned forward to place a gentle hand against the carved rim of the desk. “You have no idea how grateful I am for this. My son is so important to me and I’m failing him right now. Watching him lie in that hospital bed so battered and bruised was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. I almost lost him and I keep telling myself I’m not to blame for not being around as much since the divorce because a single mother needs to pull in a much higher income to support a teenage boy and two dogs. But I know I’ll do anything I can now to make sure I never have to make another journey to the hospital not knowing if my son is living or dead – “
William watched her crumble. She clutched at the desk, head on her outstretched arms and cried silently for a moment. There was a desperate urge to help her, even to slide a tissue across the space between them but he couldn’t.
Her words sliced through him and dragged every late-night worry to the very surface of his consciousness, forcing him to face every concern he’d ever had for Blaine. Being in Ohio wasn’t healthy for Blaine and he’d endured the early signs of bullying but surely he couldn’t be subject to violence?
Wasn’t that just for the kids who shoved it in others’ faces? Wasn’t it for the kids who were campy and over the top? Wasn’t it for the people who made it obvious? Like the kids who sang show tunes and wore bright colours?
That wasn’t Blaine. Blaine was a reasonably plain boy at times. At fourteen, he was still figuring out his own identity. He had been playing the piano for years but he was so talented so they’d supported him fully. It was his passion and he had quite a voice, but he wasn’t one of those kids. Yes, he was gay but unless he made it known, unless he made it obvious, then he was safe.
Sure, back at boarding school in the seventies there’d been issues with it all. Boys were beaten and teased but it was the seventies. The world had been a very different place and deviance was only cheered for when it was what other people wanted to see, something that thrilled people and created an air of rebelliousness. Homosexuality hadn’t been easy to swallow back then.
He thought of Jackson, the guy who was sent home after a night of events that nobody was fully informed about. Jackson, the guy who never came back. He’d been small, skinny-looking with long hair that he’ used style just like most of the boys at that time. He’d talked like a girl, though, and it had been his down fall. No kid their age danced the way he used to and in the age of platform shoes and spandex trousers, Jackson had been unfortunate to stand out even further than most.
He was a good guy - was being the operative word. It was difficult to wonder if he was still around even after the issues of the Eighties and the stigma attached to that era in particular.
It wasn’t a good thing to be because all it brought was misery and confusion. Kids didn’t come with an instruction manual or ‘how-to’ guide. You had them and that was that. Blaine was an incredible young man and one with such a bright future because he’d been given everything to provide him with that positive start in life but still he’d face trouble and there wasn’t anything a parent could do about that except shelter them from as much harm as possible.
Here sat a mother terrified for her own son’s safety and all because she let the bullying carry on and allowed her child to make his lifestyle known. Watching her cry was painful but it was only a small fraction of the fear she must have felt knowing that her son had been attacked.
It had been a learning curve, growing to understand about Blaine and who he was. It wasn’t a choice – that much was obvious now – because which young person would choose to be belittled? No sane person would opt for suffering and, ultimately, being gay was going to cause it somehow.
It was only a matter of time.
“I’m so sorry, Will,” Celine said eventually, wiping frantically at her eyes. “I should have kept my emotions in check.”
“No. Don’t apologise. I… I understand. I understand your predicament and I want you to take some time. I hope your son recovers well. Give him our best, won’t you?”
She stared for a short time, lip quivering but eventually squared her shoulders with a deep breath. “I will do. Thank you. Thank you for being so understanding. I won’t forget this. I’ll keep you informed.”
“See that you do, Celine. Just keep your son from harm’s way. You’re better at home than here where you’ll only be preoccupied and worrying. It makes sense.”
She nodded, sliding off the chair. She held out her hand and William took it firmly. How to console a woman whose son was being victimised for his lifestyle? How to tell a woman you share every fear she’s ever held because your own son comes home with that vacant look in his eyes and you know, you understand because it’s happening to you too?
William passed her a tissue and smiled. She took it with eyes, penny-round and filled with tears and gratitude. “Thank you again.”
* * * * * * * *
The next few weeks got simultaneously better and worse. It was a nightmare of whiplash working for The Andersons.
Blaine was friendly and wonderful and accommodating, his eyes taking on a completely different glow when he was either outside the apartment or in Kurt’s company; Kurt could feel it deep down, the hope he knew he was clinging to, growing smug and a little giddy at each passing day.
Their conversation had been a turning point. Blaine clearly trusted him but he still didn’t talk too much about his feelings. He didn’t seem to be torturing himself, though, and that could only be a positive thing.
Monica had begun to call much more frequently, apologising profusely and always ending any conversation with what Kurt gauged as sincere gratitude. It was progress. Small, but progress nonetheless.
Bella was happy. Alongside her dance classes, she’d begun to ask Kurt to explain everything to her in French, relishing in the exoticness of it all. Kurt wondered if it made her feel grown-up in a much more legitimate way than she was used to, much in the manner that little girls wore glittery eye shadow and their mother’s heels. She’d also asked for Kurt to teach her new dances and sometimes they sang together, Blaine sneaking in every now and then to join them.
Kurt had grown obsessed - there was no other word for the sheer bliss and overwhelming feeling it gave him - with seeing Blaine rehearse. It was like tracking the inner workings of Blaine’s soul through his shining face and jerky-adorable dance moves and all of it happened in their lounge when the house was empty. Bella had begged to see Blaine’s concert in which he’d been chosen to perform a lead during a Michael Buble medley and where he’d auditioned and won the spot of Fiyero in an ensemble version of Dancing Through Life.
Kurt had emailed Monica and received a speedy reply from her work account expressing her permission. There was only one thing worrying Kurt and it was how she’d failed to mention anything about attending with William. There was no suggestion of attending together, no ‘We’ll see you there!’ or ‘Oh it’ll be nice to spend the evening with Bella’. It was possible the thought had slipped her mind but something deep in the pit of Kurt’s stomach churned at the thought of Blaine’s disappointment. Regardless, Kurt booked two tickets during his break from Improv class over a mango smoothie, texting Blaine a little heads up in the process.
I hope you don’t mind but you have two guests attending your concert: a pint sized princess and her au pair. I’ll be the one carrying flowers and trying to wrestle your little sister off the stage. She has reached levels of excitement I didn’t know were humanly possible! Have a good day and break a leg this evening. Kurt
Knowing he could text Blaine was something special. They had their own relationship now, separate to anything Bella-related but still able to criss-cross into both worlds when necessary. It felt cosy, cherished in a way that Kurt couldn’t quite pin point but there was something unspoken between them that was going to come out sooner or later.
There were so many questions: had Blaine talked about his thoughts and feelings with anyone else? Did he have a significant other or someone he was interested in? Did he know how serious Kurt was when he’d said he’d be there if Blaine needed a friend? Had things changed with his parents? Did they know how much closer they’d become.
There lay the worry.
Kurt could understand part of the look in Blaine’s eyes now because he was about ninety nine percent sure that he echoed it back. There was a comfort in having a new friend to learn about and one that was so separate from any other aspect of his life. Blaine was becoming important and, the most difficult part to grasp? Kurt went home but Blaine still lingered on his mind.
* * * * * * * *
From a little cyber stalking, Kurt soon learned more about Blaine’s performance group and, in turn, their allegiance to acapella and their kooky collective name: The Mixtapes. They had been exclusively a choir with big set pieces and some extra quirky numbers thrown in to keep it exciting, however, with a New Year beginning and new students with fresh perspectives, their range had grown, Blaine providing a healthy injection of Top 40 and Broadway.
On their ride in, Bella was inconsolable with glee. She’d helped Kurt pick out a bouquet of flowers, bright and varied. Kurt schooled her in the simplest terms about the art of choosing the right bunch for the right occasion, mainly dragging her little clinging hands away from large tropical sprays with scary looking alien plants.
“That’s pretty!” she cried at everything in sight and Kurt, taking a deep breath and close to laughing out of hysteria, offered her the only explanation he could muster.
“Sometimes pretty isn’t everything, Bella. It’s all about the thought behind it. Now, what do you want to say to your brother tonight?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, brow knitted in concentration. “Good luck, Bee.”
“Well then,” Kurt sighed, “we need something bold and special to Blaine himself. How about pink?”
“Like his bow!” Her eyes blazed with excitement and Kurt was at the cash register before she had a chance to notice the array of acridly coloured cuddly teddy bears with crass slogans.
If a child was to learn anything it was the importance of taste.
* * * * * * * *
As they arrived, Bella grew silent, her hand clasping Kurt’s tighter as they crossed through traffic to reach the edge of campus where the performance hall stood. Kurt’s pocket buzzed.
I’m sorry I can’t come to see you both before the show. Thank you so much for coming Kurt and for bringing Bella too. Keep an eye out for my parents! This all means a lot to me. Blaine
Kurt held onto the phone tighter, smiling as Bella passed the doorman their tickets and bounced into the entrance.
* * * * * * * *
“Will you come to my performance?” Bella asked once they were seated.
“Of course I will, if you let me know plenty of time in advance because I have to plan so that my classes and performances don’t conflict with other things. Is that ok?”
Kurt grinned down at her as she repeated the instructions to herself like a mantra.
She looked adorable. Having little time to help her dress due to last minute class prep, Monica had stepped up and offered, much to Kurt’s surprise. It seemed that Mrs Anderson’s excellent taste extended to her daughter as the black velvet dress she’d chosen made Isobelle’s eyes sparkle, her hair falling in ringlets at her temples from where it was held in a simple diamante clip. Still, as beautiful as she’d dressed her daughter, it had been another warning sign, knowing that Monica was free yet keeping schtum about anything to do with Blaine’s show.
It was becoming difficult to appreciate the choices of The Andersons. Monica’s sporadic moments of input were amazing but the whole situation screamed dysfunction. They were a family who had clearly forgotten how to fit together and the lack of communication was infuriating even from afar.
Kurt found himself musing on the level of contact between himself and Monica, guessing it was more complex of late compared to her connection with her own son.
* * * * * * * *
“What’s Bee going to do?”
“He’s singing the lead on a big number and then he has a big role in another song. You remember when we listened to Wicked, don’t you?”
She pouted, cogs clearly turning. “The one like the Wizard of Oz?”
“That’s the one. Blaine is playing Fiyero. He’s the male lead.”
Kurt watched her settle back in her seat, the rows filling up nicely around them, and swallowed down the swell of sudden emotion. He had the capacity to make a little girl’s day and by the look on Bella’s face, she’d remember it for a long time. It felt like a great privilege.
The lights gradually went down and Kurt felt that familiar tingle, wishing he was taking the stage too. Bella leaned forward, neck craned for a better view.
The show suited the group’s name perfectly. It was a mix of performance styles, genres and soloists: one girl was nasal and Kurt cringed his way through her slaughtering rendition of Memory from Cats but the rest was a showcase of some impressive talent. Kurt felt secretly smug at their utter lack of males capable of providing anything but baritone and smooth altos, though.
Every so often, Kurt found himself glancing over at Bella who looked simply enchanted.
It wasn’t until just before the intermission when Blaine took to the stage, the rest of the group arranged in formation behind him. He was dressed in a delicious navy suit complete with complimentary white handkerchief detail and Kurt felt himself clutch the arm rests to stop himself from leaning closer. Everything about Blaine shone. His smile beamed out bright with his introductory speech about the power of a love song and no sooner had Bella slapped Kurt’s arm in excitement or the audience applauded him, the opening bars of music began.
Kurt could pin point the first time he ever heard Rachel Berry sing. She’d been completely obnoxious and Kurt had wanted to force feed her one of her disgusting knee socks but nobody with ears and a modicum of taste could deny her talent. She’d wowed him and still did. He could remember the way the hairs on his arms stood on end, skin flushing warm with wonder as he watched her effortlessly hit notes he’d worked for years to reach.
Watching Blaine sing was a similar experience. He was melted butter on toast, fluffy blankets by a crackling fire, a flirtatious smirk in a crowded room and everything Kurt had dreamt he would be. As he attacked the opening of Buble’s rendition of Cry Me A River, Kurt stopped fighting the tingling sensation and just let it take over. There was an excuse to watch Blaine and his gorgeousness in full swing and, my god was he going to take it.
After a pretty adaption of Somewhere That’s Green by a blonde with the unnerving voice of a child on helium, Blaine appeared once more and Kurt barely had time to quieten Bella’s wooping as he was half tempted to join in.
That, or drool.
Seeing Wicked with Rachel on their very first weekend of being fully-fledged New Yorkers, had been a moment to remember but it was Fiyero in his tight white pants that had provided Kurt with weeks of devastatingly hot images to use whenever Rachel left The Broom Cupboard or he had time to take an extended shower. Seeing Blaine in trousers no less clingy was a little too much to handle.
His moves were… unhelpful too. Everything was fluid and swaying to the beat of the music, his hips cocky and wiggling with every syllable. It was then that Kurt wondered why Blaine was studying anything but musical theatre because to deny audiences a glimpse of what Kurt was witnessing felt catastrophically criminal. He swallowed and felt his skin burn hot throughout the entire number.
They received a rapturous applause including plenty of noise from Isobelle. She gripped the sleeve of Kurt’s dark tartan blazer and positively vibrated with enthusiasm.
* * * * * * * *
Immediately after the show ended, Bella’s eyes were on stalks, her hand clasped tight in Kurt’s as they made their way through the crowds following Blaine’s instructions on how to get backstage.
Bella tugged on his sleeve. “Do only famous people get backstage?”
“No, no. Families and friends can come back and when it’s a big theatre like the ones I showed you on Broadway where famous stars perform, then sometimes they can invite fans back to meet them.”
She gasped in awe, eyes darting around. “When you’re famous can I come backstage?”
Kurt smiled fondly down at her as they reached side stage, tickling her head. “Only if you bring me flowers as pretty as the ones you picked out for your brother.” She got the joke, giggling happily.
It wasn’t difficult to locate Blaine in the Green Room. He was still wearing those white pants and clearly Kurt’s brain was well in-tune with them to be able to spot Blaine in a room crammed with people.
The power of indecently fitted clothing be damned.
Blaine was still flushed when he spotted them; Kurt took a steadying breath at the face splitting grin that Blaine cast their way. He fought his way through the crowd and before he had the chance to open his mouth to speak, Bella launched herself at him, squashing the flowers in the process.
Kurt winced, attempting to drag them out unscathed but Blaine simply laughed, shaking his head lovingly.
“Bells, you’re squashing your beautiful flowers. Hey, hey,” he warned softly, peeling her off him and grinning madly. “Thank you for these. Did you choose them yourself?”
“No, K – “
“She chose them all herself, yes,” Kurt rushed, grinning. The blush rose at Blaine’s cheeks as he looked up at Kurt with a dizzying expression.
“Well they’re very pretty,” he spoke into Bella’s hair then caught Kurt’s eyes again, mouthing, “Thank you.”
There wasn’t a wall to lean on or something to cling to so Kurt settled with a jittery smile, nerves as plain as day. Gone was the demure facade he spent so long perfecting. All over a pair of white pants and a charming smile.
Smitten, he reminded himself bitterly. Typical. He was cursed with a heart so capable of love but it was the task of allowing it the freedom that caused problems.
“What did you guys think of the show?” Blaine asked as Bella ceased her cuddling.
Kurt coughed sarcastically. “Have I ever mentioned how obsessed I am with Wicked?”
Blaine eyes crinkled in amusement. “No. Never. What level of obsession are talking?”
“Multiple playlists dedicated to every recording every made. I’m talking Broadway, West End and every cast combination to run. I have Kristen Chenoweth and Idina Menzels’ rehearsal videos uploaded to my iPod, a bootleg of the whole show – not that I approve but I physically couldn’t resist – and I once sang on the Gershin Theatre stage amongst their set pieces.”
Blaine’s eyes grew. “You are kidding me? When? How?”
“Just before Senior year, we competed at Regionals in New York and Rachel and I managed to sneak in. It was one of those moments in life, you know? Goosebumps. Uncontrollably sobbing. Risking criminal charge in the name of showbiz.” He curtseyed much to Bella’s delight.
Blaine seemed to muse thoughtfully before asking, “So did I do Fiyero justice because I’m kind of in love with the role as arrogant and egotistical as he is.”
Hyper-aware of the sheen of sweat on Blaine’s forehead, his hand on his hip making his bicep entirely too distracting, Kurt had a wild moment of weakness in which he pictured being close to Blaine. Really close. There was something about him so inviting, warm and the niggling idea that Blaine craved such contact too was a constant annoyance. Picturing Blaine curled in bed alone on an evening had caused Kurt to lose sleep, hugging his own pillow instead. Now, Blaine looked edible and glittering from his moment in the limelight. It was just another mental image to have to pretend not to think about.
The silence was a little tense and Kurt laughed nervously, pushing every inappropriate thought down away just like the butterflies in his belly. It was unfair. Why couldn’t humans have better control over themselves?
How maddening the human brain could be sometimes.
“You portrayed him just fine. Perfect actually.”
At this, Blaine’s fact lit up. “Oh thank god. I wasn’t sure” he pondered, hoisting Bella up to his hip. She giggled and Kurt wanted to huff in frustration at the glorious view of those pants stretching with exertion. “But if I have a Wicked connoisseur’s thumbs up then I feel better about it all. I love Broadway but I wouldn’t call myself an expert, you know?”
“Oh well, consider me your resident know-it-all. I’m a student of the theatre, don’t forget.” Kurt flourished playfully, mentally groaning at how terrible he surely was at flirting. Still, he held his head high and enjoyed the momentary twinkle in Blaine’s eye.
Bella began playing with the hard edges of Blaine’s hair, her face screwed up in disgust. “Yuck,” she spat out, pulling her hand away.
“Thank you, Bells. Such a self esteem boost.”
She stuck out her chin defiantly and Kurt chuckled. She looked like he had at her age: bold and brilliant with eyes as naive as a baby deer. “Well, you used to have curly hair like me but now you don’t.”
Kurt reached for her, lifting her down. “It’s called product, sweetie,” he explained, “and your brother could maybe use a little less but we don’t criticise others for their appearance.”
She frowned up at him. “But you said that lady in that magazine had a ‘face stretched like a balloon’ and you said that that other lady we saw outside of Jamba Juice looked as if she’d covered herself in glue and rolled around at the Good Will.”
Kurt stared, mouth agape. Her memory was unrivalled and slightly terrifying. Laughter burst from Blaine’s mouth but he slapped his hand across it, smirking hopelessly. He talked through his fingers, eyes wild. “You said that to my little sister?”
“The woman was wearing fake Chanel, Blaine. Bad fake Chanel. It looked as if she’d quilted her own purse and not only was that nightmare inducing enough, she’d literally thrown it together with a jumpsuit even Tom Cruise would have wrinkled his nose at. It had no shape, no style, no place in this world never mind the streets of fashionable New York.”
Kurt sucked in a breath after his rant and watched Blaine’s eyes slide from horrified to impressed to something completely unreadable - but still charming.
“Remind me again why you’re not a fashion major?” Blaine asked, beaming.
Kurt attempted a nonchalant shrug. “They couldn’t handle all of my fabulous.”
“Right. I’d forgotten,” Blaine chuckled softly, scratching at his neck. He glanced up with a bashful smile and didn’t look away, the air growing thick in an instant.
Kurt remembered – just – to breathe when Blaine broke the silence. “I’m, um, I’m really pleased you came. Both of you. Like I said, it means a lot to me. I just… I guess its nice having you around.”
The sweetest, most radiant smile spread across Blaine’s face.
Kurt could feel Bella’s eyes on them, like a tennis spectator flitting between them both and that was when the blush began to betray him. Again, let down by his own body, Kurt smiled and tried with great difficulty not to swoon. “Why thank you. It’s nice being around too. We had a lovely night, didn’t we Bella?”
“You looked like a pop star,” she sang, tugging on Blaine’s arm and, with that, the moment was gone.
Kurt spent the rest of the time pretending he wasn’t watching Blaine’s shadow change behind the partition and regulating his breathing so that during their taxi ride home he didn’t resemble a stuttering social disaster.
* * * * * * * *
Blaine didn’t take long to change and all the while, Kurt couldn’t help but wonder exactly how long it would take for Blaine to realise his parents weren’t present.
Not long, it seemed, because as soon as Blaine was cleaned up, changed and around the corner - sans white pants much to Kurt’s dismay – to where Kurt had taken Bella for a seat, Blaine tugged on his jacket and quirked an eyebrow.
“Did you sit with my mom and dad or did you not see them? I presumed they’d come backstage but they’re not the type to make a fuss even though my mom used to when I was small.”
Bella looked frantically up at Kurt. “Mom and dad are here? Are they?”
Kurt’s stomach fell, hand clutching the hard leather of the seat. “No, honey. They aren’t.”
With a slow inhale, Kurt feared seeing Blaine’s eyes but when he did his heart ached desperately. Disappointment. Anger. Frustration. Sadness.
“They didn’t come?” Blaine asked. Kurt winced at the crack in his voice and the way it frayed at the edges of the words. Blaine’s entire face crumpled and fell in a split second.
“No. I’m sorry.”
As seamless as a Broadway scene chance, Blaine’s face changed. It hardened, jaw set and solid. “It’s ok. They only said they’d try to make it, Bells. It’s not a big deal. Come on, we’ll go home and you can choose your late snack. Ok?”
Kurt watched Bella’s expression glow at the prospect but Blaine didn’t acknowledge Kurt, nor did he pause for a second before walking straight out of the doors to the sound of Bella’s lamenting her brother’s dancing abilities.
The one thing that Blaine couldn’t mask, however, was the shake on the fingertips of his empty hand.
Once a cab was hailed and Bella suitably impressed for taking charge, Kurt slid in after them both and gasped as he found himself squashed close to Blaine, their sides pressed together. They were so tight that even the material of their jackets curled around each other.
Kurt gazed between them in wonder for a brief moment until he felt watched. Blushing and grateful for the dark, he looked up to find Blaine looking at him, his eyes dark but gently exuding such emotion that Kurt caught his breath.
“Thank you for coming,” Blaine whispered, his face as pale as the moon. Kurt shivered, feeling every word tingle over his skin and right down to the tip of his toes.
With the most genuinely sincere smile he could muster in return, Kurt added a soft “you’re welcome” and allowed his hand to fall gently onto his lap.
About half way home, a sudden expense of warm skin pressed lightly against Kurt’s wrist and folded towards his hand where it rested. Without glancing down, Kurt closed his eyes and breathed.
With each bend and bump in the road, Kurt felt his body fizz alive with every shift of their fingers.
TO PART 4C
For those who aren't familiar with the part of Fiyero and/or his pants : EXHIBIT A. You're welcome.
Please let me know what you think!
Thank you for all of your lovely encouragement and sweet comments about this story. I can't wait for you to read the next few Chapters. It all gets a bit intense...