Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, mostly, but other pairings will probably be integrated as we go along.
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter, but it will get higher later on. Rated mostly for kissing.
Word Count: 3,892
Summary: Each season comes with new weather, new feelings, new people. It's Kurt and Blaine's last year as a high school couple - can they make it?
Author Notes: I have no idea where this plot bunny came from - I was actually just starting a college!au when this hopped into my brain and wiggled it's cute little tail at me. This is essentially my headcanon for season 3. It does contain spoilers, and may branch off canon if certain aspects of it don't agree with the writers. At the moment there are spoilers for 3x05 and this current season (fall, or autumn) is based around what goes down in that episode. Feedback is always lovely!
Kurt would say his favourite season is fall – he loves the rich browns and orange of the leaves on the ground, the sunlight that dances through the reddened and severed foliage before the afternoon can catch up with it. He loves the clothes that go with it – more sweaters, more knitwear, new suede boots and, maybe, a new coat. It’s not cold enough yet that he has to button his coat up all the way and wrap scarves tightly around his neck, but it’s not still so warm that layers are impractical and leave him stifled, suffocating.
Blaine likes fall, too. Fall means school, and school means new pens and a new bag, new teachers, new classes. This year the subjects he’s being taught are substantially less challenging, but he still likes school. School means Kurt, mostly. And fall and Kurt meet in a collision of more kisses pressed close against each other, more arms around shoulders and waists, still feeling the lines and shapes of each others’ torsos through the two or three layers of clothing. Fall means Kurt in red, Kurt in big jumpers with his shoulders bare, Kurt in Blaine’s old Dalton hoody while they sit, entangled, in front of a movie.
Blaine’s first day at McKinley is terrifying and exhilarating – he powers through his impromptu audition routine and shoots Santana a huge, grateful smile afterwards (he smiles at her in the hallways whenever he sees her and he likes to see if her smile back is getting any bigger each time). He receives a tackling hug from Rachel and Brittany each, a pat on the cheek from Mercedes and a shy wave from Tina. He spends most of his time in between classes glancing around him, checking that a football player with a brightly coloured cup isn’t stalking towards him.
It takes him a week or two, but he slowly falls into the routine of McKinley – he knows which way to go to avoid Azimio and his cronies, he knows his locker combination off by heart, he knows where to sit at lunch and he knows which teachers will actually care that he writes his notes out using coloured markers and flow charts.
The one thing he hates about McKinley is that he can’t kiss Kurt goodbye, can’t hold his hand on the way to Glee or lunch, can’t sneak up behind him and loop his arms around Kurt’s slim waist. In glee club they can dance together, sing together; Kurt can take his hand and hold it on his knee, Blaine can shuffle their chairs closer and rest his head on Kurt’s shoulder. Paired with the fact that the New Directions are like a huge, happy, dysfunctional family and almost half of them seem to like him, glee club is the best part of his day.
He and Kurt still get coffee together; they’re back to their regular non-fat mocha and medium drip after a summer of iced tea and frigid frappuccinos. They’re still too hot to drink as soon as the styrofoam cups are pressed into their hands, so they take them back to Blaine’s car (sometimes Kurt’s, but Blaine lives further away and it’s much more environmentally friendly than if Kurt were to pick Blaine up first) and sip at them on the way to school. If glee club ends late they’ll make a pit stop, too, so they can spread their books and papers out in front of them once they arrive at Kurt’s house, and work until the sky is dark and Carole is calling them for dinner.
Kurt prints off his campaign posters and Blaine happily pastes them everywhere he can (though he does feel guilty if he overlaps Rachel’s or Brittany’s posters). He’s voting for Kurt, of course, and not just because he’s biased and he can’t even imagine putting a cross next to anybody else’s name, as much as he adores Rachel and Britt. Kurt’s fighting for equality – for the chance for kids like them to hold hands with whoever they like, for better anti-bullying schemes, for educating people.
And as much as it’s going to hurt – Kurt needs to go to New York.
Blaine still feels guilty whenever he tells Kurt he has rehearsal with Rachel and Kurt’s smile is just that tiny bit forced. He knows Kurt winning senior class president is literally his last chance at New York – at least the New York he dreams of (Broadway lights and stages, the apartment with the view, everything magnified at least ten times). Playing the Tony to Rachel’s Maria leaves him torn between the fact that he likes Rachel; and that she’s Kurt’s opponent. Kurt is still miffed, indignant at Rachel’s selfishness, and Blaine has to sneak smiles at her.
Plus Kurt would have been a magnificent Tony – he’s absolutely sure - and in the week after the casting Blaine whispers it into Kurt’s shoulder as many times as he can manage (Kurt stops blushing after the tenth time and it loses its appeal).
Kurt insists on manipulating his Officer Krupke costume by himself, assuring Ms Pillsbury that while he appreciates her help he alone knows how fitted the pants need to be, and the hat just needs a little less glitter.
He keeps swaying his hips and tapping Blaine on the shoulder with his baton, and he’s evil.
When he visits Dalton in early November, homesickness infests itself in his muscles and he finds himself slightly jealous when Nick steps to the front and leads the Warblers in a phenomenal rehearsal of Uptown Girl. However, Jeff grabs his hand and pulls him into the second row before they hit the second chorus, and the second part is easy to pick up. Slipping back into the familiar acapella beat causes a thrill of pride to rise in him, as well as a pang of guilt that he squashes before it can hinder his enthusiasm.
Two-step, change, hop; it’s so simple. He finds the spot behind Nick is comfortable and safe – he is hidden from scrutinizing eyes and the glare of the spotlight. He’s part of the unit, the machine that makes the Warblers work so well. He’s not a huge part, but essential anyway.
Soon they reach the final chorus, losing the hard bass, the soft off-beats, before slowing to one drawn out note behind Nick’s final lyrics.
The group breaks out in loud applause and Nick launches himself at Blaine for a hug.
The new Warbler – Sebastian, he assumes, from the directions that were being given out – keeps back, but Blaine can feel his eyes trained unrelentingly on him. It reminds him slightly of when Kurt was at Dalton and Blaine would go a bit pink when he looked up to find
Kurt staring at him. It made him flustered, flattered, then – mostly because his stomach would flip over every time Kurt so much as walked into his line of sight.
(He really had been quite, quite stupid)
But when Sebastian approaches him after the Warblers finish congratulating each other on a good rehearsal, the way his eyes drop to his feet and drag slowly all the way up again makes Blaine uncomfortable and guilty. His mind is flashing an alarm at him – Kurt, Kurt. Only Kurt is allowed to trace his body with his eyes; and that only really happens after a particularly satisfying make-out session or when Blaine turns up at Kurt’s locker in the morning for his routine outfit check.
“Blaine Anderson,” Sebastian leans on the chair next to the one Blaine is perched on again, the corner of his mouth curling upwards. “I finally get to put a face to the legend. It’s good to meet you. I’m Sebastian.”
Blaine smiles nervously. “You, too. Nice high kick there.”
“Thanks,” Sebastian is smirking now. “I’ve been working on it. Not much, I’m already quite… flexible.”
His eyes are dark and his gaze is locked securely on Blaine.
“Oh?” Blaine glances behind Sebastian in the hopes of finding another Warbler. “That’s great.”
“Blaine,” Sebastian is suddenly in his space, hands clamping down on his shoulder. “You’re hot. I’m hot. We’re both very talented. I think you coming here today really is proof that the universe is trying to tell us something.”
“He has a boyfriend, idiot,” Jeff calls from the doorway. Blaine jumps. “How many times do we have to tell you?”
“I think Blaine should be the one to clarify that,” Sebastian pats Blaine’s shoulder.
“No, really,” Jeff comes over to them and pulls himself up to his full height – two inches taller than Sebastian. “I caught them making out in Blaine’s dorm room, like, five times.”
“Kurt Hummel,” Blaine interrupts, sensing an oncoming battle and fishing his wallet out of his bag. “If you’ve heard of me you’ve heard of him – he’s the only countertenor the Warblers have had for years.”
“There,” Blaine proudly thrusts his wallet towards Sebastian. “That’s Kurt.”
“Oh,” Sebastian cocks his head. “Well, he is rather gorgeous.”
“He is,” Blaine takes the wallet back and looks at the picture. It’s from the summer, when Kurt’s family had left for the day and they’d spent hours in Kurt’s bed. They’d done new things that day – discovered new ways to touch each other, hold each other. The photo in Blaine’s wallet is of Kurt smiling up at him from his pillows, hair askew and lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Kurt had protested loudly when he’d found that picture in there three weeks ago, but Blaine bites his lip, now, still struck dumb by the beauty of Kurt. Because he’s beautiful, truly.
“Well,” Sebastian coughs, too, making Blaine look up from his wallet. “I suppose he can come too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was going to invite you out to this little place I know. I can get us all in. Plus it’s a little more suited for guys like us,” Sebastian winks and Blaine flushes. Ohio may be distinctly hostile when it comes to being accepting of differing sexualities, but there isn’t a shortage of gay bars or clubs.
“I don’t know,” Blaine starts, knowing Kurt will sniff and ask him exactly how sanitary this place is, and it’ll all go downhill from there.
“Come on,” Sebastian holds out a flyer to him. “I bet you guys never get to do anything in public or kiss during movies or cuddle in booths at restaurants. Just one night where you can dance and drink and kiss as much as you want – wouldn’t that be fun?”
Blaine takes the flyer tentatively, and smiles wistfully. “We’d need fake ID, or something.”
“I know a guy,” Sebastian shrugs. “Will you think about it?”
“Yeah,” Blaine stands up, phone in hand, and hooks his bag on his shoulder. “Here, put your number in – I’ll talk to Kurt and let you know.
“No, don’t – oh, never mind,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hey, I’ve got to go. It was great seeing you, man.”
Blaine grins at him and passes the phone to Sebastian. “I miss you guys a lot. Say goodbye to Nick for me?”
“Sure,” Jeff waves and strides out of the room, humming Uptown Girl to himself. Sebastian clicks the button on top of Blaine’s phone and gives it back to him.
“Well, Blaine,” Sebastian flicks his hair back and straightens his blazer. “This has been delightful. Allow me to escort you back to the parking lot.”
“Sebastian, I went here for two years-“ Blaine tries, but Sebastian takes his arm and tugs him into the hallway.
“Just in case,” Sebastian smiles charmingly at him. “We wouldn’t want you to get lost. Who knows what would happen to you?”
When Blaine drops the flyer into Kurt’s lap at Glee practice the next day, Kurt simply raises an eyebrow and picks up the flyer gingerly with his thumb and index finger.
“What,” he says. “is this?”
“It’s a bar,” Blaine says bluntly, eyes huge and hopeful. “When I went to Dalton yesterday this guy – Sebastian – gave it to me.”
“And this would be of interest to me because…?” Kurt’s stomach clenches guiltily at the way Blaine’s mouth turns down slightly, but he stands his ground. He’s working on staying strong when faced with Blaine’s scarily accurate impression of a puppy.
“Because we could go there and dance and stuff,” Blaine grabs Kurt’s hands. “And – and we could make out and nobody would care.”
“We’re not old enough to get in, honey,” Kurt squeezes Blaine’s fingers gently.
“Sebastian said he’d get us some fake ID,” Blaine points out, his face still terribly optimistic. “He knows somebody.”
“Who is this Sebastian?” Kurt’s eyebrows are slowly heading upwards.
“He’s a Warbler,” Blaine explains. “He came and talked to me yesterday; it was weird, I think he was hitting on me.”
Kurt stares at him for a few seconds before tearing the flyer in half. “Definitely not.”
“Kurt,” Blaine whines.
“He was probably hoping to grind against you while Lady Gaga plays in the background, get you wasted, then take you to a hotel and have
drunken, sloppy sex with you.” Kurt bristles. “Does that sound fun, Blaine?”
“I wouldn’t - you know I wouldn’t-“ Blaine looks quite hurt, and his bottom lip is decidedly wobbly, and now Kurt feels awful.
“No, no, I’m sorry,” Kurt takes Blaine’s hands again and presses his mouth to the knuckles. “That was mean. I’m sorry, honey.”
“If we did go, and we did get drunk,” Blaine says quietly. “I’d just latch myself onto you. For the whole night. That’s what I wanted to do last time.”
“Really?” Kurt blinks and strokes his thumbs over Blaine’s fingers.
“Yeah,” Blaine settles back into his chair as Mr Schuester arrives. “I just knew I couldn’t because we weren’t together. And then I kissed Rachel and-“
“Yes, yes,” Kurt generally isn’t a fan of any reminders of Blaine’s brief phase of questioning his sexuality, mostly because of the awful fight that followed. They hadn’t spoken to each other for a week after that, until Blaine had tentatively approached Kurt’s table at lunch and asked if he could sit with him, eyes big and red and puffy.
“I think I groped you in the night. It made sense to me at the time,” Blaine muses, grinning when Kurt goes pink and narrows his eyes at him. He certainly remembers Blaine’s wandering hands over his waist and chest, Blaine’s murmurs of how beautiful Kurt was. He had left Kurt trembling, desperate for Blaine to repeat those words while sober, desperate for Blaine to touch him like that without the loss of
inhibition that came with drunkenness.
“Why do I have the feeling that if we do go to this bar,” Kurt lowers his voice so that they can continue their conversation while Rachel makes an announcement. “You’re going to sit on my lap all night and try to suck my face off?”
“Sounds like me,” Blaine pulls their joined hands onto his lap and beams at him. “So you’ll think about it?”
“As long as you’re not sucking Sebastian’s face off,” Kurt says, freeing one hand and pointing a finger imperiously at him.
“Yes, sir,” Blaine leans on his shoulder and listens to Rachel arguing with Mr Schuester about potential set lists for Sectionals. Kurt refrains from informing her that Sectionals are five weeks away and presses his cheek to the top of Blaine’s head.
Kurt gives in eventually, of course, and Blaine promises to not let him have any Chablis and make sure he avoids Ms Pillsbury on the Monday afterwards. He checks over the text Blaine sends to Sebastian, checking for anything that could come across as flirty that Blaine wouldn’t pick up on. The smiley-face is removed. Sebastian texts back fairly quickly with a date early in November.
Kurt assesses Blaine’s closet via skype the night before, pursing his lips when Blaine holds up an ugly shirt and nodding eagerly when he brandishes his tightest pair of jeans.
“Make a pile of possibilities and we’ll decide tomorrow,” Kurt says. “This is important.”
“You know you’re going to look better than me no matter what,” Blaine slumps in his computer chair, leaning his chin on his hand. “Why are we even bothering?”
Kurt’s image is pixilated and blurry, but Blaine can make out his eyes shining brightly.
“Sweetheart,” Kurt’s head tilts. “You’re going to look amazing. You’re very handsome, you know.”
“Really?” Blaine looks down at himself and then the tiny picture in the corner of his screen.
“Really,” Kurt smiles at him warmly. “I can’t really blame Sebastian.”
Blaine bites his lip, blushing furiously. “N-no, I’m not – Kurt.”
“Trust me,” Kurt’s voice is especially soft. “Would I lie to you?”
“No,” Blaine’s throat feels tight. “It’s just – no one’s ever-“
“Me neither,” Kurt frowns at him. “Clearly I need to tell you this more. You’re always telling me I’m beautiful.”
“Because you are,” Blaine says, like it’s obvious (and it is).
“Same goes for you, honey,” Kurt turns around sharply, calling something downstairs. “Dad wants to talk to me – I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Definitely,” Blaine catches the kiss Kurt blows at him and holds it to his heart. Kurt rolls his eyes but sends him one last soft smile before
the screen goes blank and it is the silence of Blaine’s bedroom filling his ears, not Kurt’s quiet, melodic voice.
Kurt picks out the dark green, long-sleeved shirt and finds him a simple black button-up vest to go with it. Blaine is already wearing the black skinny jeans and he squirms a little in them; they’re tighter than what he’d normally wear and he ends up staring at his legs in the mirror and biting his nails while Kurt tugs the three hangers he needs out of his wardrobe.
“Kurt, are you sure these pants work?”
Kurt stares at him and raises an eyebrow. “I picked them out. Of course they work.”
“But,” Blaine swallows and wrings his hands, eyes fixed on the shape of his thighs in the mirror. “I just – they feel weird.”
“Oh, are they not comfortable?” Kurt sets the clothes down and then moves behind Blaine. “I’m sure we can find something else, honey.”
“It’s not that,” Blaine fidgets and settles back into Kurt when he cups Blaine’s elbows. “Do they look okay? On me?”
He looks upwards to his face in the reflection and Kurt sighs.
“Blaine, you look wonderful,” Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and presses his mouth to his cheek. “Okay? You have nothing to worry about. Your legs look great.”
“Thanks,” Blaine murmurs, smiling feebly at Kurt’s reflection. “I’m not – I don’t know how to dress like you do.”
“You’re learning,” Kurt kisses him on the cheek again before letting go and picking up his clothes again. “Now, are you going to be respectful and go pee while I change?”
“Yes I am.”
Blaine obediently tends to his bladder (he did need to go anyway) and returns to find Kurt buttoning his shirt, a sleeveless coat slung over the chair next to his vanity.
“You nearly done?” Blaine leans against the doorframe, admiring the lines of Kurt’s body and raking his gaze down his legs. His mouth goes dry; Kurt’s wearing the tightest jeans he has ever seen.
“Hm? Oh, nearly, just let me fix my hair,” Kurt replies distractedly, his tongue sticking out as he wrestles with the last button on his shirt.
“Honey, come help me with this button, my nails are too long.”
“Wha – oh, sure,” Blaine moves closer and gently takes Kurt’s hands away from the button. Kurt’s skin is still perfectly soft and Blaine kisses Kurt’s fingers before letting go and slotting the button neatly into the slot. “There.”
Kurt’s face is inches from his – Blaine can feel Kurt’s breath on his cheek and the warmth Kurt’s body is emitting makes him want to curl closer and tuck himself there. Kurt smells wonderful –like his favourite cologne and fresh laundry. Kurt’s soft, pink mouth parts slightly and his eyes cloud over with something dark that sends a thrill straight through Blaine. Kurt’s hand reaches up again to fiddle with Blaine’s collar; the darkness in his eyes is warm now, simmering with affection.
“It’s such a good colour on you,” he murmurs, his fingers smoothing over Blaine’s vest and down to his waist. Blaine says nothing, but stretches up on his tiptoes to kiss Kurt’s mouth, lips closed. Kurt sighs into the kiss, cupping Blaine’s cheek and letting his palm slide down to the small of Blaine’s back. They pull away, still pressed close together, and Kurt kisses Blaine’s temple before resting his forehead there.
“I love you,” Blaine mouths; it’s so quiet even Kurt strains to hear it, but he’s heard it so many times that he doesn’t need perfect articulation.
“I know,” Kurt closes his eyes, his hand on Blaine’s back pushing him even closer to his body.
Blaine leans upwards again, capturing Kurt’s bottom lip and kissing him deeply. Kurt responds eagerly, his tongue soon slipping into Blaine’s mouth. It’s a longer kiss this time; fifteen seconds long where the previous one had been two. Kurt tastes like the cookies he had baked earlier and his regular mocha. Blaine arches into him, curving against Kurt’s hand splayed on his back.
Kurt hums and opens his eyes, separating their mouths again. “We’ll be late if you keep doing that.”
“You drive pretty fast,” Blaine is cradling Kurt’s neck and he tries to pull Kurt down again. Kurt just smiles and kisses him on the nose.
“Come on,” Kurt releases him and picks up his long, sleeveless coat, threading his arms through the gaps and adjusting the neckline. “There’s fashionably late, and then there’s late.”
Kurt picks up his phone and his car keys, shoving them into his pocket and then taking Blaine’s hand.
“Ready?” he tugs Blaine out of the door and down the stairs. Blaine finds his shoes and Kurt slips on his boots, writing a quick note to his dad to let him know that there’s pizza in the fridge and he’d call the next morning. They’d agreed to go to Blaine’s house after – Blaine’s parents were in New York at a conference and it was closer to the bar than Kurt’s.
Blaine checks his hair in the mirror one last time (he’d used less gel, and Kurt had been delighted, so he didn’t mind the odd looseness as much as he could have done) and Kurt joins him, twirling and preening. Blaine pulls out his own phone and tugs Kurt to his side.
“Smile, gorgeous,” he murmurs, grinning widely and sensing Kurt’s reluctant amusement. Kurt kisses his cheek for the picture but wipes the remains of his chapstick from Blaine’s cheek after, tutting.
“What? If we’re drinking I’d like some evidence that I looked composed at one point,” Blaine shrugs and pockets his phone. Kurt shakes his head and throws Blaine’s jacket at him.
They do leave, eventually, piling into Blaine’s car and turning on the radio. They bicker over stations and end up plugging in Kurt’s phone. Kurt selects the Wicked playlist, and then turns the keys in the ignition. He finds Blaine’s hand and they pull out of Kurt’s driveway, humming quietly in the cold November evening.