twentysomething

Title: No Regrets, Just Love

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Kurt/Blaine

Summary: "It doesn't help that Kurt is totally Blaine's type. Wes and David, who have been through Steven, Eric and Rory, with little more than a running treasure box of designer scarves stolen from former loves, both stare at Blaine skeptically."

Length: 2500 wordsish.

Warnings: SUGAR I'VE ROTTED ALL THE TEETH THIS IS SO CUTE I PUKE BLAINE IS A DORK

Notes: So, because I should be writing papers and doing research and shit, I'm obviously going to be writing a lot of fic. And voting is still RAGING ON over for the WIPVEMBER winner over here, so you should do that, too. Anon commenting enabled and shit. FYI. Anyway, because Kurt and Blaine make me want to vomit rainbows, this happened.



Less than twenty seconds after Kurt leaves Dalton, Wes gives him the hairy eyeball.

"I swear to high holy Jesus, Blaine, if you take advantage of that boy, you're going to the Special Hell." Wes proclaims solemnly. David nods like Wes is preaching from the Gospel According to St. Bitchy Roommate.

"Are you- I wouldn't," Blaine protests, because seriously, he wouldn't. "Also, quit ripping off Firefly to prove your points."

It doesn't help that Kurt is totally Blaine's type. Wes and David, who have been through Steven, Eric and Rory, with little more than a running treasure box of designer scarves stolen from former loves, both stare at Blaine skeptically.

"Your mouth says no, but you touching all over his Lanvin for H&M coat say yes," David says mournfully. Blaine pretends they're dead for the rest of the afternoon.

And it's not like Blaine is trying to live vicariously through Kurt.

Okay, it totally is.

But Kurt has the chance to stand up to his oppressors and get resolution and the satisfaction of never backing down, and Blaine wants that for him, even more than he wants to drag Kurt behind the bleachers, so to speak. And for that, he'll need a mentor, not a boyfriend. (Even though his Katy Perry seduction never fails.) So, instead he watches To Kill a Mockingbird twice to perfect Gregory Peck's smooth, affectionate lecturing tone and texts Kurt a simple "Courage."

Of course, the best laid plans of mice and dapper gay men always go awry, so Blaine finds himself skipping class- which is extremely hard to do at a boarding school, might he add- and drives to McKinley High School before he can think better of it, because he's 5'9" when he lies about it, but two heads are harder to beat up than one, right?

u r a crazy person u r still not allowd 2 touch him perv buzzes where his iPhone is slipping out of his bag on the passenger seat. Blaine sighs. He needs more supportive friends who are less likely to think he's a sexual predator.

The confrontation is sadly predictable- and looking around McKinley High and Lima, OH, Blaine isn't exactly surprised that Karofsky was Kurt's first kiss. And while the part of him that's certainly going to the Special Hell would like to kiss Kurt, right here, right now, it's not What Gregory Peck Would Do, so instead he takes him to lunch.

Breadstix is like an Olive Garden with delusions of class, but it's sort of wretchedly charming and so when Kurt texts him later and asks him if he'd to go again and come meet his BFF, Mercedes, Blaine finds himself ponying up the gas money again. And exchanging prison favors for Wes and David to cause enough of a distraction to make Blaine probably being missed at curfew a non-issue.

On the one hand, it's probably good that Mercedes is there, because otherwise it'd inescapably be a date, and Blaine is Not Allowed, although he's never seen someone so disinterested in Patti LuPone. On the other hand, he convinces Kurt to let him take a picture of the three of them in a grainy, Steve Jobs-limited camera phone pic and now there's not a flash of his regular iPhone background when Kurt calls in a whisper at midnight to make sure that Blaine got back to Dalton safe. So not a total wash.

Blaine may be in denial.

Again.

He hears about Kurt's dad finding out about Karofsky and Karofsky getting expelled and Karofsky getting un-expelled all via increasingly frantic and capitalized texts and he's thinking about what Sir Alec Guinness would tell Mark Hamill when his phone buzzes in Calc.

Dad and Carole are sending me to Dalton

Well, that was unexpected.

Wes levels him a painfully judgmental look at lunch.

"Okay, we've been letting you nurse this crush, because it's increasingly fiscally irresponsible, if nothing else, and we thought the sheer cost of driving to Lima would burn it out, but now that Kurt is coming here, we clearly need to lay some ground rules," he states. David nods his sycophantic agreement.

"You're not my father," Blaine says blankly after a moment, because this is ridiculous. Wes just sighs at him. David echoes it sadly.

"Your father would want you to be a gentleman," David goes on, and Blaine wonders who he fucked over in a previous life, the Pope?

And really, he'd already agreed- hands off of Kurt and his delicious issues and Marc Jacobs jackets, this is overkill.

But then Kurt arrives at Dalton and the half a year it took Blaine to de-fetishize their school uniforms goes right out the window the first time he sees Kurt adjusting his striped tie.

"You know, you really don't have to guide me around, it's not really fair to you for me to treat you like my lifeline," Kurt admits, even as he keeps close enough to Blaine's side for Blaine to feel the body heat radiating off him.

"I'm just glad you're here." Blaine says, belatedly adding, "Where you're safe." It's not a particularly smooth save, but Kurt just hums speculatively at him.

"Me too," Kurt says firmly, and if it sounds like he's trying to convince himself too, well, Blaine will do him the courtesy of not pointing it out.

Blaine is equal parts unsurprised and pleased that Kurt makes it into the Warblers, because now Kurt has 20 new friends and an instant-in with the student body. And he thinks the coal miner joke is funny, even if he knows better than to laugh out loud about it, because he'll get his head bitten off for it. He doesn't know how to explain that while yes, they do Katy Perry covers without changing lyrics, they're also not a Broadway cabaret- but Kurt takes things- honestly- a lot better than he'd thought.

"I really am sorry about today," Blaine offers, along with a skim chai. Kurt just sighs, and smiles slightly. Blaine pretends Wes and David aren't watching them completely un-surreptitiously from two tables over.

"Growing pains, right?" Kurt says softly. "It's not McKinley. Just because I didn't succeed straight away doesn't mean I'll never get there." Blaine nods, maybe a little too eagerly.

"I didn't get a solo for months," he confirms, because a capella groups thrive on hierarchy and making newbies suffer. Hence the bird, and all.

"You? Never," Kurt demurs, all sweet and sassy mockery and Blaine laughs and can't help but gently kick his loafer at Kurt's.

"You bitch, these are Bruno Maglis," Kurt hisses at him, but not without affection, Blaine likes to imagine, even as Kurt tucks his feet under his chair.

Wes shakes his head sternly from over Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sure," Blaine teases, anyway.

They have Sectionals in about a week, which is how Blaine justifies how much time he spends in extra rehearsals with Kurt.

"He has to learn the choreography!" Blaine insists, throwing his hands up in the air when David looks at him like he's shot all the puppies ever and is eating the kittens. "What do you want from me?" Wes shakes his head.

"Less this," Wes sighs. Kurt comes back in with his water bottle refilled.

"From the top?" he asks brightly, briskly adjusting his headband, taking a swig, then bending over to put the bottle down. Blaine- who has a healthy sex drive, thank you, takes the amply provided opportunity to watch Kurt's yoga-panted derriere. Wes just slaps at Blaine's arm.

"No," he reminds Blaine. Blaine wishes he could short-sheet their beds or something.

Kurt gets increasingly drawn and consumptively pale in the days immediately preceding Sectionals.

"I'm fine," he insists, even as he pushes his breakfast around on his tray in the dining hall. Blaine decides that discretion is the better part of valor, and lets Kurt get away with that one.

And if he circles around Kurt, carrying half of his books and deflecting all other human beings, that's totally normal behavior.

Denial.

Sectionals dawns bright and early, and Blaine lets himself tug on the ends of Kurt's Dalton Red tasseled scarf.

"Carole made it," Kurt mumbles, his cheeks flushing red under their normal pink, and Blaine grins even as David mouths "No means No" behind him. "Apparently she's been extremely bored without me."

"I like it," Blaine chirps, nudging Kurt onto the bus.

When he collects Kurt from Rachel- she must be Rachel, no one else could look that high-strung- he looks strangely at ease.

"You know, I thought you'd be a complete wreck right now," Blaine confesses, glancing sideways at Kurt as they wait backstage.

"This is a very weird sentence for me to say, but I think talking to Rachel made me feel better," Kurt says slowly. Blaine raises his eyebrows.

"There's a first for everything," he suggests. Kurt's eyes flick out toward the stage.

"Yes, there is," he agrees quietly, and then they're on.

It's hard not to connect with Kurt while singing. Kurt always seems surprised and pleased, like Blaine is unexpected and interesting, and Blaine likes that. That being said, this is a real performance, not a teenage dream in the commons, so he at least attempts to play to the crowd.

Their numbers go great- better than great. And because he thinks Kurt might need some fortitude to watch his old group perform without him, Blaine shooes Kevin away so he can sit next to Kurt. And for no other reason whatsoever.

A tie is the last thing he expected, honestly, but it's worth it for the way Kurt's face lights up completely, with no trace of reservation.

When Blaine gets Kurt's text, he has a horrifying mental image of the two of them sneaking out to a pet shop to buy a new canary and illicitly bury a sacred bird. Luckily, Pavarotti is just molting, and Kurt's relief is so cute that Blaine has to pat him on the knee and run out.

This whole abstaining from the Kurt thing would go a lot better if Kurt wasn't pretty much gagging to be kissed.

When the Council announces the dates for the holiday concert, Blaine is sort of preoccupied by the fact that he and Kurt are apparently singing a duet.

"Enjoy your ode to date rape," Wes hisses at him on his way out. David mutters, "Roofies, that's what's in that drink," and Blaine really needs new friends.

"Well, this would never have happened at McKinley," Kurt sighs, but it sounds happy and sort of content and Blaine thinks Kurt might stay, after all.

"You should see our Shakespeare," Blaine jokes. Although, True Life, Twelfth Night was a trip last year. Kurt just laughs and sort of half-smiles to himself and Blaine doesn't just want Kurt to stay, he wants to keep him.

Which is probably why Blaine finds himself breaking into Wes and David's room.

"I've got feelings," Blaine blurts out. David raises his eyebrows.

"Is this like finding a hair down there, because there are pamphlets-" he starts and Blaine just shakes his head and cuts him off.

"No, no, like, I like Kurt," he says and Wes and David exchange a long look before Wes gets up from Halo and claps a hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"Go forth my son." he says lowly. "Hit it like the fist of an angry God." Blaine nearly falls over.

"So, wait, after a month of telling me Satan will roast my soul forever, that's it?" Blaine demands. Wes and David shrug in sickening roommate synchronization.

"That was different," David protests earnestly. "We thought you were going to lead him on and then maybe fool around with him and then forget about it." Blaine gapes at David.

"Serious- wait, seriously?" he shouts. "What the hell!" Wes just crosses his arms.

"Exhibit A- Steven. Exhibit B- Eric. Exhibit C- Rory." Wes says in a monotone. David sighs.

"And Rory was a crier," David adds accusingly. "But if you actually like Kurt, go for it." Wes nods.

"We actually respect Kurt." Wes points out. Blaine just scrubs at his face with his hands.

"Oh my god, I hate you guys," he moans, running back out of the room.

That crisis averted, he's now totally at a loss for how to proceed.

And fuck those guys, he didn't fool around and then forget his boyfriends.

But none of his traditional approaches feel right, and while even a week or so ago, he would have felt totally sure that Kurt reciprocated, or would welcome his advances, Blaine finds himself uncharacteristically awkward- well, maybe characteristically awkward, but uncharacteristically unable to hide it- and contemplating running away to like, Swaziland.

About three days into his self-imposed failure, Kurt corners him before their next scheduled duet rehearsal.

"Okay, don't get me wrong, I really appreciated it when you didn't call me out on the fact that I was clearly insane before Sectionals, and I will probably start acting like a tragic heroine again before Regionals, fair warning, but you are kind of being a crazy person right now." Kurt says, his arms crossed fiercely. "So, I'm just saying. If you have something to say, you should say it before I make you say it."

Blaine tries to laugh, but it sort of sounds like someone strangling a hamster. Kurt gives him a supremely unimpressed look.

"So, I this might come as a shock to you, but I'm actually not very good at being a mentor," Blaine stutters out. Kurt smiles a very little bit.

"I don't know, I think you did a pretty good job, myself," Kurt allows, and Blaine swallows thickly.

"Yeah, well, it's probably not because most of the time I'm busy trying to convince myself not to kiss you," Blaine explains and then ponders all the ways that was the stupidest thing he could have possibly said. And possibly grammatically confusing. Kurt just stares at him for a long moment, giant surprised doe eyes and all, and Blaine thinks he should probably book his tickets to Swaziland.

"It's a good thing you're so pretty," Kurt finally says, taking a big, shaky breath. Blaine blinks.

"What?" he asks, totally confused and Kurt rolls his eyes and puts himself right into Blaine's personal space.

"Because it means I can forgive you for how spectacularly dumb you are," Kurt says, right before he leans in and kisses Blaine.

Kissing Kurt is pretty much as great as Blaine thought it would be. Kurt tucks his fingers into the lapels of Blaine's blazer, and he realizes for the first time that Kurt is actually probably an inch or so taller than he is.

But more importantly, Kurt is bright pink and not kissing him anymore, a hint of apprehension crossing his face in the way he bites at his lower lip.

"Good," Blaine manages belatedly and Kurt laughs and leans his forehead against Blaine's shoulder.

"You know, I used to think you were so smooth," Kurt teases, but shows no sign of running from the room screaming or anything and Blaine grins sheepishly.

"I may have been imitating Atticus Finch," he admits and Kurt just laughs and kisses him again.