Disclaimer: If I owned Glee... well, let's just say a few things would be different.
Spoilers: Set between 2.18 and 2.19, mention of events from both episodes.
Summary: When Blaine gets stuck at Dalton to work on a project on date night, Kurt goes for a visit - French homework and pizza is a totally acceptable date, after all.
Author's Note: Sometimes fic is required to make canon make sense in my head. Today was one of those times.
Thanks to: My lovely beta pinkfairy727, who bounced the original ideas for this with me this morning on twitter!
After nearly two weeks back at McKinley, Kurt feels a little peculiar being back here. Odder still is the act of signing the visitors log while he waits for Blaine to reply to his text and tell him where in the vast building he is.
Instead of a message, Blaine himself appears a few moments later, breathing hard, a grin spreading across his face when he spots Kurt leaning against the reception desk.
Kurt meets him halfway, clinging tight for a few seconds when he is snatched into a hug hello. Blaine’s breath is hot against his neck, and Kurt lets his eyes drift closed just for a moment while he soaks him in.
“I’m glad you suggested this,” Blaine says quietly as they pull apart and head towards the stairs, hand in hand. “I’ve missed you.”
Despite the warm glow the words rouse inside him, Kurt can’t resist teasing, just a little. “You do know it’s only been three days since we last saw each other, right?”
Blaine squeezes his hand and shoots him a look. “Three very long days,” he protests gently. “And don’t even try to pretend that you don’t agree with me completely.”
Kurt says nothing, shrugging one shoulder in acceptance. He can’t exactly deny it. It may only have been three days, but it’s the longest he’s gone without seeing Blaine since they became a couple – the longest since winter break, in fact. After months of having him there, seeing him every weekday – and occasionally on Saturdays – the separation is taking a little getting used to. Even when it’s just a matter of a half-hour drive.
“I really am sorry we can’t go out somewhere like we’d planned,” Blaine continues as they reach the top of the staircase, crowding together against the wall to avoid a frantic-looking student running the other way. “Between all of our various extra-curriculars there really was no other time my French group could…”
“You’ve already apologised for this,” Kurt cuts him off. “Twice. And I’ve already told you that it’s not your fault. So please stop saying sorry.”
Blaine smiles self-depreciatingly. “Sorry,” he says, the quirk of his lips telling Kurt that yes, he does recognise the irony.
Their hands drop as they enter the Warblers’ practice room, Blaine stuffing a pile of sheet music into the satchel he had evidently abandoned on the table when Kurt had texted his arrival.
“And anyway,” Kurt picks up as Blaine scans the room once more for anything he might have forgotten. “I’m here now. It doesn’t matter that we can’t go anywhere. I get to see you, that’s the most important part.” He feels his cheeks heat a little at the gushy statement.
Blaine spins around to face him, a soft look in his eyes that has rapidly become one of Kurt’s favourite sights in the world. “You’re right,” he breathes, brushing Kurt’s hair back where it has started to fall across his forehead. “It doesn’t matter where we are, as long as we’re together.”
Which is perhaps veering a little too far into High School Musical territory for Kurt, on a normal basis, but the rules are different when it comes to Blaine. Things he knows he should find sickeningly sweet seem adorable instead, and even the cheesiest comments don’t seem too much. He sways helplessly into Blaine, fingers grasping the edges of his blazer; he can’t tear his eyes away from Blaine’s.
“Exactly,” he whispers, the sentiment of the moment too private for anything louder. His head dips almost without conscious thought as Blaine’s shoulders rise, their lips meeting gently in a move they’ve almost perfected in the last few weeks. Kurt shuffles closer, releasing Blaine’s blazer to settle his palms underneath, on the warm curve of his hips, instead; the angle is a little steeper, but extensive experimentation has assured them that neither of them are in danger of a crick in the neck.
He’s not sure he’ll ever get over the tingly feeling he gets when he kisses Blaine – he hopes he doesn’t. Having him so close, his lips warm under his own; it melts something inside him that he hadn’t even known existed. Sighing into it, he deepens the kiss, Blaine following the change eagerly. There’s a soft moan as their tongues meet; Kurt doesn’t know from which of them, but he’s past the point where he really cares.
The sound of voices and footsteps at the end of the corridor breaks him out of his little bubble where nothing exists but the two of them. He pulls back and stares dazedly at Blaine’s hair for a few moments, catching his breath. They’re a respectable distance apart by the time the group passes their doorway, although their hands have found each other once again.
There's no explicit rule at Dalton about public displays of affection, but they don't want to push their luck. Besides, they don't want to sully their moment with the presence of others; it's theirs alone, too precious for the public gaze.
“Right,” Kurt eventually says, long after the hallway has emptied again. “If you still want me to have a look at your part of this project, we should probably.” He waves his free hand vaguely in the direction of the East wing, where most of the study rooms are located.
Blaine nods. “Yeah, yeah, definitely.”
Their hands swing carefree between them as they make their way to the study rooms, hoping to find one empty or at least quiet. “I called in some pizza for us, by the way,” Blaine says as they peer in the first door, finding a crowd of seniors talking over each other around a table. “Should be here in about…” He glances at his watch. “Twenty minutes, or so. They’ll call my cell.”
Kurt frowns involuntarily. “Where did you…?”
Blaine swings him to a stop between two open doors. “Your favourite place, don’t worry.” His free hand spreads across his own chest. “I like to think I know you well enough by now to know never to feed you anything from a place you hadn’t already approved.”
Kurt leans back and just observes Blaine’s sincere face. “When you put it that way, I sound so high maintenance.”
One shoulder lifts. “Maybe a little, about some things,” Blaine admits. “But you’re worth it.”
“I don’t meant to be,” Kurt says apologetically as they start walking again, although if he’s being brutally honest with himself, that might not be entirely true. “But in this case, they really do make the best pizzas in the area. Everywhere else…”
“…puts on too much cheese and are far too greasy,” Blaine finishes for him. “I know.”
Kurt smiles wryly. Perhaps he’s mentioned it a few too many times.
The next room they look into is, thankfully, deserted. Blaine unpacks his project work while Kurt settles onto the sofa, taking the opportunity to watch Blaine move around him.
“So,” Blaine says as he finally settles down close beside him, handing him a stapled pile of typed papers. “This is the bit I’m not sure about. I’m fairly confident on the topic, but I swear I’ve conjugated something wrong somewhere and I might have made up a few words of vocab.”
Kurt leans into him, holding the paper so they can both read it. “I thought I’d told you before, that’s what the dictionary is for.”
“I know, I know,” Blaine sighs, his head dropping to Kurt’s shoulder as he settles against him. “But it’s so much more fun for you just to tell me what I did wrong.”
Kurt shakes his head and starts reading.
They’ve made it through three pages, several misuses of être as an auxiliary verb, one made-up word and Kurt’s utter relief that he’d been placed in French 4 rather than French 3 – why anyone would want to do a project on any of the topics Blaine’s group is covering is beyond him – by the time Blaine’s phone chirps from his pocket.
The conversation is short, a few ‘yeah’s and an ‘I’ll be down in a minute’.
“I’ll go,” Kurt jumps in before Blaine can say anything. “It’ll let you get started on fixing the rest of those ‘être’s before I get to them.” He grins and kisses Blaine’s cheek to soften the remark, even though he’d been making similar comments on the state of Blaine’s French homework for months before they started dating.
Blaine scrambles for his bag as Kurt stands up. “Hang on, let me just…”
Kurt holds out a hand for him to stop. “I’ve got it, seriously. I’m sure it’s my turn, anyway.”
Blaine looks for just a moment like he might protest before visibly giving in. “Hurry back?” He pastes on his most winning smile, and it’s all Kurt can do to make himself leave the room without making a detour to kiss it off his face.
The hallways are even quieter than they’d been before, more and more students beginning to drift home as clubs and sports practices finish up.
He smiles pleasantly at the bored-looking porter as he passes the desk; he gets no response, but he didn’t expect one. One day he’s determined he’ll get a smile, but he knows it’s a slim chance now.
The pizza delivery boy is easy to spot the moment he steps out of the front doors – if nothing else the pizza box in his arms gives him away.
“Hi,” he says as he starts towards him. “How much do I…?” As he gets closer he realises he recognises that face; it’s not a face he ever expected to see attached to a pizza delivery boy. “Sam?”
Sam’s face freezes when he recognises Kurt in turn. “Please. You can’t tell anyone.”
Kurt nods and steps closer. “Sam? What’s going on?”
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