Disclaimer: If I owned Glee... let's just say a few things would be different.
Spoilers: Through 3x12
Summary: Kurt pays a recovering Blaine a visit, and explains a few messages he's sent...
Author's Note: I seem to have accidentally dropped a 3x11 reaction fic into my 3x12 reaction fic. Oh well. Thanks to forgiveninasong for the lightening fast read-through she gave this for me :)
Who Needs Pictures?
“Hey,” Kurt says softly as he nudges Blaine’s bedroom door closed behind himself. “How you feeling?”
Blaine smiles over at him, Kurt’s voice evidently alerting him to his presence and drawing his attention away from whatever is playing quietly on his TV. “Better now you’re here.” His hand skitters searchingly across the comforter on the empty side of the bed.
Kurt drops his bag and crosses to the bed, picking up the remote from where it lies just out of Blaine’s reach and thumbing the television off, recognising a flash of an old Project Runway re-run as the screen goes dark.
“I wanted to come visit yesterday,” he says, toeing off his shoes so he can slide onto the bed next to Blaine, “but visiting hours were already over by the time your mom phoned to say you were out of recovery.”
Blaine hums affirmatively and shuffles closer, leaning a little against Kurt’s side.
“She said it went well, though?” Kurt continues, unable to keep the questioning note out of his voice.
“Textbook, apparently,” Blaine answers. “Not that I’d know if it wasn’t. They sent me home, though. And downgraded my painkillers from those ones that made me loopy, so that has to be a good sign.”
Kurt reaches for Blaine’s hand, clasping it between his own and resisting, barely, the urge to bring it up to his mouth to kiss. “Definitely a good sign,” he agrees. “And as adorable as you were all loopy from the painkillers, it’s nice to have regular you back again.” High on painkillers, Blaine had been even more sappy and affectionate than usual. Not that Kurt had taken issue with that at all; he loved Blaine’s soppy side. He just wasn’t used to it making quite so obvious an appearance around their friends – or Blaine’s parents.
“Well, according to my doctor, if everything continues to go smoothly, you’ll have me back full time very soon,” Blaine says, knocking his foot against Kurt’s ankle. “I’ll probably be allowed to go back to school next week sometime, although it’s going to take a while longer for my vision to get completely back to normal.”
Just for a moment, Kurt entertains the fantasy that McKinley is the sort of place where he could get away with leading Blaine around by the hand until his eyesight is fully restored. Not that it would be practical in any case, but such trifles as logistics don’t matter in fantasy-land, and he lets himself imagine entire days glued to Blaine’s side, looking after him, keeping him safe.
Pulling himself out of it, he gives in to his earlier temptation and tugs Blaine’s hand up so he can press a warm kiss to his knuckles. “Half-blind or not, I can’t wait for you to be well enough to come back to school,” he murmurs. “I miss seeing you in the corridors, and at lunch. Miss being with you in glee. None of it is the same without you.” Even surrounded by his friends, the halls of McKinley feel that bit emptier knowing that Blaine isn’t around.
“I’m surprised you noticed, what with whatever-his-name-was you sent me all those pictures of around.” Blaine’s elbow nudges against his side as evidence that he’s only teasing, but Kurt can’t help but come to his own defence anyway.
“The school could be filled with a hundred Mr Martinezes and I’d still notice if you weren’t there and miss you,” he assures Blaine. “Although I can’t say I’d be complaining too much about the consolation prize.” He turns his head just in time to catch Blaine’s smirk.
“Hey!” He jostles Blaine gently with his shoulder. “Don’t you go giving me that look. I know you, Blaine Anderson, so I also know exactly what you would have been saying if you’d been there this week.”
“Oh really, you think so?”
Kurt twists so he can look at Blaine properly, raising his eyebrows. “Who was it, again, that watched X-Men First Class with you nine times so you could ogle Michael Fassbender in a skintight jumpsuit? Might that have possibly been me?”
Blaine, as it turns out, can’t really pull off his normal fond glare with one eye bandaged up, but he tries anyway; Kurt fights off the grin the resulting lopsided expression elicits and waits. “You know you enjoyed that movie too,” Blaine insists.
“I’m not admitting anything of the sort.” Kurt had, actually, enjoyed it – surprising himself by enjoying the plot as well as the attractive stars and barely veiled homoerotic subtext – but he’s loath to give up an excuse for teasing Blaine. “I’m just saying that I know what you’re like, and you would most definitely have had something to say about Mr Martinez.”
Blaine drops his head to the side and shrugs a shoulder, twisting his hand in Kurt’s grasp so he can tangle their fingers together. “Okay, maybe. Judging from the pictures you sent, at least. There’s only so much you can tell from a cellphone photo.”
Kurt knows he has ‘smug victory’ written all over his face, but he really doesn’t care. “Oh trust me,” he smiles. “It’s a good thing he’s not your Spanish teacher, or you’d get nothing done.”
Blaine smirks. “You mean like the sort of nothing I get done when you come over to study and my parents are out?”
“Well…” Kurt can see where this line of conversation is heading, and he sees absolutely no reason to complain – even if, tonight, Blaine’s parents are right downstairs, hovering closer since Blaine’s injury than they have in all the time he’s known him. “Maybe not exactly that sort of nothing. But you should tell me more about that.”
When Blaine tugs him closer and draws him into a soft kiss, Kurt doesn’t resist.
Comments are absolutely adored. Concrit welcome.