Pairing: Klaine+Jesse, canon couples as of 2x22
Notes: Finally. Finally, finally, finally.
Blaine had an unspoken agreement with his parents: if he put up with his grandparents during his pre-birthday dinner, they made themselves scarce during his actual birthday.
Kurt had had some thoughts about what he and Blaine could do in a guaranteed-empty house all day, but that would have meant one of two things: 1) that they would have sex immediately before Blaine's party, and God, the last thing Kurt wanted to do after losing his virginity was hang out with two dozen other people and act natural, or 2) that they would cancel the party altogether, and Kurt wasn't going to ask Blaine to do that. Between Six Flags and spending time with Kurt he hadn't seen much of the Warblers (with the exception of Thad, who'd made it even to the performances Kurt had missed), and half of them would be shipping off to college before the summer was over.
So Kurt was lounging out on Blaine's deck rather than his bed, just out of the splash zone of the overcrowded pool. To his left, Sam was "platonically" rubbing sunscreen on Mercedes' back. To his right, Tina was stabbing at the ice in her glass and glaring at Wes because he'd put a padlock on the kayak shed. Blaine was still at the barbecue, poking at the last round of hamburgers and hotdogs with a spatula.
Kurt wondered why there weren't more teen movies he could turn to for guidance about people who wanted to lose their virginity and kept failing. And not those flicks about the sad virgin boy that was desperately trying to woo an uninterested girl, because that couldn't be less helpful to Kurt's predicament. He couldn't be the only one in the world who had a sweet, loving, sexy boyfriend that he really wanted to climb on and do things to, and knew the feeling was mutual, and yet kept getting foiled at every turn.
Why didn't their parents work all the time? Why did their friends demand they socialize with them? Why weren't they upstairs right now making a boy burrito out of Blaine's bed?
Kurt put his chin in his hands and let out a massive sigh as Sam snuck a daring finger under the back strap of Mercedes' bathing suit and they both went into a round of giggles that were the furthest thing from subtle.
Blaine was in the middle of eating a barbecued hamburger when Wes cleared his throat. Blaine raised his eyebrows, silently encouraging him to continue while he chewed.
"Warbler Blaine," Wes said, crossing his arms. "We need to have a discussion about you fraternizing with the enemy."
Blaine swallowed and washed down his food with a swig of soda before he replied. "The enemy?" Blaine repeated, coughing delicately. "That's pretty harsh, you guys, Kurt was a Warbler for months—"
"We're talking about Jesse St. James!"
"Oh, him," Blaine said. His eyebrows furrowed. "He's not even in high school anymore. I don't think we're competing against him."
"Have you forgotten his past crimes?" Wes said severely. The rest of the Warblers nodded vigorously.
Blaine sighed. "Don't you think you're being a little overly dramatic about this?"
"Overly dramatic? I don't think you understand the severity of what Jesse St. James, and the rest of Vocal Adrenaline, did to our school."
"They spray painted John Dalton, yeah, I know."
"They maliciously hand-sprung over the gate meant to protect us from such lowlifes and desecrated the symbol of Dalton's commitment to excellence and fair conduct!" Wes snapped. He drew himself up straighter and said solemnly, "I am not ashamed to say I wept that day."
"Are you even sure Jesse was involved? He would have been an underclassman…"
"Jesse mocked us in email the following day," Wes said, glaring.
Blaine winced. "I know that Jesse is kind of an asshole—"
"'Kind of?'" Wes repeated disdainfully.
"It's not like I'm seeking out his company! Even if I rudely blew him off I don't think he'd get the hint."
"You could have written him a strongly worded letter," David said. "Did you ever try that?"
Blaine sighed. "No, I never wrote him a strongly worded letter."
"It's like you're not even trying!" Trent said, throwing his hands into the air.
"We call your judgement into question," Wes said. "Your loyalties clearly aren't to the Warblers first and foremost. We no longer think you would make a suitable member of the council."
Blaine's mouth fell open. "What?"
"You're charismatic, Blaine, considerate, and clearly an accomplished singer. But your indulgence of Jesse St. Statue Defiler is too great a indiscretion to overlook. The group doesn't have their confidence in your leadership abilities anymore."
"You're revoking my seat?"
Thad was wringing his hands, looking desperate to comfort Blaine. "Well, you were never officially placed on it, since school hasn't started yet, so at least it won't go on the official record that you were removed!" he said, looking at Blaine hopefully, like he wanted that to make Blaine feel better.
Blaine sat numbly on his seat beside the barbecue. He had been banking on that. Blaine wasn't a terrible student, but he didn't especially stand out among all of the other private school boys. Being the show choir's lead singer was impressive, but they'd never gotten past Regionals. He'd been counting on being one of the council leaders next year.
Kurt marched over, cutting a swath through the Warblers. "Excuse me, did I hear you correctly?" he demanded, coming to a stop at Blaine's shoulder and spinning around so that he could face the group of boys. "You're kicking Blaine off of the council?"
"Technically—" Thad began.
"If he doesn't show proper fortitude in the face of his opponents—" Wes began.
"You are not going to kick Blaine off the council!" Kurt said, crossing his arms. "First of all, if you saw everything that he's put up with from Jesse since he arrived, you would never question his fortitude again. And secondly, Blaine is currently the only one of you to successfully apprehend a spy," he added, coloring a little at the memory but standing firm.
"Kurt does make a compelling point," Thad said eagerly.
Wes' face was wavering.
"Let's put it to a vote!" Nick declared.
"Fine," Wes said. "All in favor of preserving Blaine's position on the council?"
Every hand shot up. Wes sighed.
"Very well. David, please note the results on this napkin," Wes said, handing him one. David carefully jotted down the ayes (seventeen) and nays (zero) and then folded it up and pocketed it.
"Great…" Blaine said. "Uh, thanks," he added, as the group dispersed after a couple among them clapped Blaine happily on the back (and Thad gave him a hug).
"They always come around when you speak up," he noted, looking up at Kurt, who shrugged.
"I'm a very persuasive person."
Blaine's lips curled up. "Hmmm."
Kurt glanced down at him. "What?"
"Just thinking about some things you could persuade me to do."
Kurt bit his lip to hide a smile. "Well, stop. We are in public, Blaine."
Blaine leaned into his side and raised a hand to rest on his opposite hip, rubbing his thumb lightly against the bone. Kurt let out a soft exhale and rested his hand on Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine nuzzled into his wrist. "Food's off the barbecue, the party's winding down… we could think of something that would clear them out—"
"Hey!" called out a boisterous voice as the gate swung open and Jesse strutted into the backyard with a wide smile. "The life of the party has officially arrived!"
Blaine let his hand drop. He planted his forehead into Kurt's side and groaned piteously. "We are jinxed," he declared in an undertone.
"He is the walking embodiment of If You Five a Rat a Cookie," Kurt said, glaring across the yard at him.
"That's 'Mouse,'" Blaine corrected.
"I said what I meant."
Jesse stalked farther into the backyard, unconcerned with the fact that everyone was glaring at him—everyone except Rachel, who was looking wary but concerned, and said, "Oh, Jesse, did you come because you smelled barbecue? I'm afraid everything was eaten, but I'm sure there's something in the kitchen…"
"Your concern is truly touching and appreciated," he said, flashing her a thousand-watt smile, "but I have been eating well at the hotel. Probably better meals than any restaurant you've ever been taken to before. You should come by and try it to compare, the room service is impeccable…"
"What are you doing here, Jesse?" Blaine asked wearily, interrupting Jesse before Finn (who had turned a funny color) pushed him in the pool and Jesse decided stripping in front of Rachel and everyone was a good countermove. He stood up to face him.
"Oh, I just got a little tired of April and Josh's company, you know how it is," Jesse said with a careless flap of the hand.
Blaine frowned. "Who?"
"My fellow artists, my costars, Blaine, do try to keep up," Jesse sighed. "What, did you think I was the only one that took some personal time when the musical was put on hold due to that unfortunate accident? We're certainly not trying to skip out on insurance fraud," he said with a loud laugh.
Blaine stared at his as the pieces slotted into place. "Wait, April Rhodes and Josh Groban are in town, too?"
"Of course. April felt like recharging her Lima-heartache batteries for a fresh performance and Josh Groban felt like having sex with her. He loves blowzy alcoholics."
Blaine scowled. "You had my mom thinking you'd be sitting in a hotel room alone if she didn't invite you out with us!"
"Well, I would," Jesse huffed. "They've been enjoying each others company, shall we say? And they do get rather loud in the adjoining room, so I've been finding other places to be all day rather than ask them to keep it down. I wouldn't dream of interrupting a couple's intimate moments."
Kurt contemplated shoving him in the pool.
"Jesse!" Wes barked, apparently able to stay silent no longer. "On behalf of the Dalton Academy Warblers, in response to your crimes against our campus, I officially challenge you to a contest of musical skill to restore honor to Dalton!"
Blaine groaned and covered his face with a hand. "You guys—"
"I accept!" Jesse said, before Blaine could voice any objections. "Jesse St. James never backs down from a sing-off."
"You guys, I promised my mom we wouldn't do any advanced choreography in the garden," Blaine said, speaking up in a vain attempt to gather the partygoer's attention. They all ignored him, save Kurt, who squeezed his arm in sympathy.
"As Dalton rule dictates, we will allow you to name the time and the location," Wes said stiffly.
"No better time than the present," Jesse said. "Rachel, is your basement free?"
"What?" Rachel blinked, thrown off at being addressed. "Why my basement?"
"For the impeccable acoustics and the karaoke machine, of course," Jesse said. He smirked at the group at large but at Finn in particular. "We made sweet music in Rachel's basement."
"You're not going to Rachel's house!" Finn scowled and crossed his arms.
"It's not my fault Blaine didn't build a stage back here. Where else can we go?"
"Anywhere but here," Blaine suggested.
"I'm still barred from most places in town," Jesse admitted. "It really shows how cultureless this cow town is, when a barber shop doesn't even appreciate a one-man quartet."
"There's no such thing," David said, looking offended that Jesse was spreading miscommunication about the history of a cappella.
"What can I say; I'm a trendsetter."
"Why don't you just go back to the hotel?" Kurt suggested.
"You know, when I said that, I didn't mean we should all come along," Kurt said fifteen minutes later, having been herded into the lobby bar of the most elegant hotel Lima had to offer.
"I know," Blaine—who was the only one who'd been listening to him—said comfortingly, rubbing his arm.
All of New Directions, the Warblers, and Jesse were assembled around the stage, which was usually reserved for paid performers doing afterdinner entertainment. Jesse had slipped the manager what Kurt assumed to be an insane amount of cash for the privilege of using it, because he knew that he at least would demand serious reparation to let this go on if it were his choice. Kurt and Blaine—whom had both been jostled into cars and dragged along despite their protests—were standing apart from the rest of the group, watching warily as the Warblers pulled out their emergency ties and New Directions clustered around like a bunch of observers at a collision site.
"So," Jesse said, "one against sixteen? Are you sure you wouldn't like some more help? You can wrangle up some complimentary female voices to supplement the failings in your group arrangement, if you'd like. But I should warn you that I intend to bring Broadway-stage caliber dancing to this showdown, so allow me to give you some sporting advice and recommend you not pick Mercedes."
"Excuse me?" Mercedes snapped.
Jesse sighed. "You can't just stand there. Adele can get away with it, but then, Adele is very talented."
"Excuse me?" Mercedes seethed.
The Warblers glared at him. "I will be dueling you," Wes said, stepping forward, "as the one who issued the challenge and the representative of the group. A fair, one-on-one exhibition of vocal prowess."
Jesse smirked. "Oh, this is going to be far from fair. But I'll let you pick the weapon," Jesse said with condescending smile. "Something pop, I assume?"
Wes glared at him. "Broadway."
"You're going to need a judge," Lauren pointed out. Kurt did a double-take and noticed that she and Puck both had glasses of clear liquid in front of them—apparently one (or both) of them had convinced the bar tender that they didn't need to show ID.
"Of course," Jesse said, smoothly, "and I can't think of a better judge than one with a perfect ear…" he began, turning to Rachel with a wide smile.
"No," Wes said flatly. "We need an unbiased party."
"I am offended that you would call Rachel's integrity into question…" Jesse began with a dramatically wounded tone.
"No one you've kissed," Wes said sternly.
"Oh, very well," Jesse said. "We have kissed a lot, after all." Rachel sighed and Finn fumed. "I suppose that rules Blaine out as well."
"We did not—" Blaine began a little shrilly as the Warblers' heads swiveled toward him as one.
"I'm a very open-minded person," Jesse told a curious-looking Rachel.
"I'll judge!" Tina offered loudly, thrusting her hand in the air.
Jesse blinked at her in bemusement. "You can talk?"
"Very well," Wes began, straightening his cuff links and approaching the microphone. "Let's begin."
"Hold my leather jacket," Jesse demanded, stripping it off his shoulders and chucking it at Blaine. Blaine sighed, plucked it off of his head, and folded it over his arm.
"Let's get a drink," Kurt suggested.
"That sounds like a great idea," Blaine said, as Kurt took his hand and led him to the bar.
"Mmm… but maybe it's better if we stick to something non-alcoholic…"
"I didn't kiss him!" Blaine groaned, and Kurt laughed and squeezed his hand.
"I'm just teasing, Blaine, come on…" Kurt said. "Besides, no one will ever believe I'm twenty-one." He turned toward the bar, smiled brightly at the bar tender, and said, "Two sherry temples, please."
The bartender grunted and reached for the grenadine.
Kurt and Blaine sat at the bar stools, idly sipping their drinks (Kurt's was almost more cherries than liquid, which charmed Blaine in that glowing, full-body way that nothing but Kurt could) and watching from a distance as Wes and Jesse launched into a sing-off. Kurt's eyebrows rose as Wes seemed to keep pace with Jesse. It was worth it just to see the slightly surprised and peeved look on Jesse's voice when he couldn't roll right over him.
"I had no idea Wes was that good," Kurt mused, looking on in wonder.
"The Warblers don't do a lot of Broadway."
"Yeah, I got that," Kurt said, feeling a ghost of embarrassment over his solo audition and stabbing a cherry with his straw. He resumed watching Wes. "Why did he never sing lead, though?"
"The council decides who gets the solos." Blaine shrugged. "It's considered bad form to give them to themselves."
Kurt paused, a furrow appearing in his brow. "You're going to be on the council next year."
Kurt turned away from the production on stage and stared at him. "You not going to be singing next year?"
"It's a cappella, everyone sings—"
"Oh, damn, did you want them to kick you off the council? Hold on, I'll go tell them to—" Kurt said, sliding off of his stool.
"No, no," Blaine said, snagging his sleeve. "I already did the lead singer thing. I think proving I'm a good group leader, too, will look better to colleges."
Kurt stared at him as he eased back onto his stool. "But you love to sing."
Blaine smiled. "I really want to go to New York."
Kurt bit his lip, though that didn't do much to hold back the undoubtedly dopey smile on his face as a warm flush of pleasure spread through him. He glanced away, lest he do something unwise, like kiss the daylights out of Blaine in the hotel bar, and let his gaze settled back on Jesse and Wes, who were each trying to outdo the other's "throw head back and yell a note into the mic" move. "It's too bad Tina's going to vote against Wes," he commented. He had zero doubts that that was the reason she had volunteered, to pay him back for cockblocking her. Kurt couldn't say that he could entirely blame her.
"God, Jesse's going to be insufferable. Even more so, I mean," Blaine sighed.
"I'm sorry he crashed your party," Kurt said, turning back to him now that the fierce spike of amazed love had abated and it felt safe again. He reached out and laid a comforting hand on Blaine's forearm, squeezing softly.
"It's okay," Blaine said with a mild shrug. "This isn't even my worst birthday."
Blaine grinned at him and brought his hand down to cover Kurt's own. "You're here."
"And that's sappy." Kurt grinned back, however. He was a fan of sappy.
But then, he was also a fan of sexual—or at least, he had the strong suspicion that he would be. And of all the ways he wanted to spend Blaine's birthday, watching Jesse show off was at the bottom.
Kurt didn't want sex to be a part of his amorphous future anymore, he wanted it to be his present. When he thought about his future with Blaine he pictured ten, twenty, fifty years down the road. He didn't feel like a half of a high school couple. He felt committed. He felt like someone who was already all in, who was already living his "forever."
He felt like a half of a couple that was having sex, was sharing that sublime intimacy—just without the actually having it. It was very frustrating.
"What is it?" Blaine asked, swirling his drink and taking a sip. "You glazed over a bit and I can't imagine it's from being lulled by Jesse's voice." He plucked his own cherry from his drink and sucked it into his mouth while Kurt watched his lips and a brief hint of tongue enviously. Oh, to be that cherry…
Kurt glanced around, but the bartender was down at the other end of the bar, wiping out a glass, and Wes and Jesse were making enough of a racket to cover anything they said, anyway, so he leaned into Blaine and complained, "I really want to have sex."
Blaine bit his lip, a curious expression on his face, like he was holding back an amused grin but also wanted to groan in commiseration. Commiserating about not getting laid. Kurt was pretty sure that most guys who did this were not dating each other.
"Maybe we just aren't meant to have sex," Blaine mused, turning his glass around in his hands.
Kurt frowned. "Excuse me?"
"You know… maybe we're meant to be a couple that just watches TV and goes antiquing and takes long walks. Which would be fine!" Blaine said. "I love long walks. I'd be totally happy walking forever, if I got to with you."
"Blaine, you're describing a married couple—no, actually, you're describing a retired couple."
"Well," Blaine said with a shrug and a beatific smile. "I like the sound of that."
"No," Kurt said. "I mean, yes, but—we are going to see each other naked, and have orgasms, and it is going to be romantic and intimate and love-affirming! And when we're retired we are going to have sex in the middle of the day, in private, in our home that none of our friends will know the address of."
"Then how are we going to throw dinner parties?" Blaine asked, pouting a little.
"Okay," Kurt relented, "they'll know our home address. But we're getting a chalet. Somewhere cold enough that Jesse won't visit because it would dry out his hair. Maybe Vermont, we could watch the leaves change and tap our own maple syrup…" Kurt mused, already losing himself in the picture he was painting in his mind—him and Blaine cuddled up by a fireplace in their spacious-yet-cozy cottage, impeccably decorated… and then cuddling would lead to a romantic, soft-lit, private, hot dirty fucking.
The flush was back. Kurt pressed his hand, cool from holding his glass, to his cheek, and noticed that Blaine's pout was more pronounced. "That would ruin my hair too."
"Your hair is going to be the last thing on your mind," Kurt swore.
A moment of silence passed between them, comfortable at first, until it sunk into their conscious minds that they'd been openly talking about married life, and not as a joke. Of course they had already discussed next year, and New York, and living together, but planning to cohabit in a year's time at college and planning a marriage were two different things.
They both snuck glances at each other, grinning loopy grins when they caught the other looking, basking in the giddy surety that they were on the same page and had no need to be worried that one was more serious than the other.
The moment was broken when a boisterous voice hollered, "Look who it is!" Kurt and Blaine looked over their shoulders as April Rhodes stumbled toward them, an enormous smile on her face. She came right up to Kurt and tweaked his nose. Kurt jerked back, looking mildly horrified. "Now your name is, don't tell me… Matt?"
"Kurt," Kurt corrected.
"Of course, of course," April said, patting him on the arm. "And who is this cutie?" she asked, fixing her slightly hazy eyes on Blaine.
"Blaine. This is April Rhodes," he added to him.
"I know," Blaine said, a friendly, polite smile on his face. "I recognize you from your show's CD."
"You are such a dear," she said, pinching his cheek, which Blaine endured with a slightly surprised expression. She plopped down on the stool on the other side of Kurt, took a tiny mini-fridge-sized bottle of champagne out of her purse, and swallowed it with one gulp.
"So…" Kurt said. "You're here."
"Josh Groban finally passed out on me," she sighed. "That man may be able to sing, but he just does not have the stamina I've come to expect from Broadway men."
"Um…" Kurt and Blaine shared a mildly grossed-out look.
"So I thought I'd come down and try some topless sunbathing," she went on, and Kurt and Blaine's shared look intensified. "But apparently bare breasts are only acceptable if they're sagging off of a man, not these pert, ten-grand babies," she said, gesturing to her chest. She huffed. "I'm a star now, I shouldn't have to put up with this sort of treatment. But," she said, warming up and smiling at Kurt, "here I come to the bar for a drink to soothe my disappointment, and who should I find but one of Will's kids! How is he?"
"Uh… Good, I guess," Kurt said. It wasn't like he kept up with his teacher during the summer. Actually, now that Crossrhodes had taken off he wasn't so sure of that generality, but he shrugged it off. "We ranked twelfth at Nationals."
April tsk tsked. "What a disappointment!"
"It wasn't, actually…"
"Poor Will," she went on, "he's so afraid of taking chances he'll never get anywhere. I mean, just look at me: I've done nothing but taken chances my whole life. Tried a whole lot of careers that fell apart. Took a lot of risky investments that left me homeless. Went out to dinner with a lot of strange men because I was hungry. And now, twenty years later, I'm a millionaire Broadway star! And poor Will, stuck with his tedious job security and a lease."
Blaine and Kurt exchanged glances as April retrieved yet another tiny bottle out of her bag and drank it, and then flagged down the bartender. "Barkeep! Give me your most expensive, most alcoholic drink!"
"So how good does it feel?" Kurt ventured after a bout of silence in which April got her drink and began to chug it, and because he honestly wondered. "Finally getting everything you've ever wanted?"
April put her glass down, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and sighed. "Ugh, it's exhausting. Who could have known being a Broadway star would be so much work?"
"You don't say," Kurt said, keeping his sarcasm mild.
"Yeah," she sighed, setting down the glass. "Things were so easy back in high school…"
Sometimes Kurt forgot that, back in the days of April Rhodes and Will Schuester, McKinley's glee club had been cool. That they had garnered as much respect from their peers as the Warblers and Vocal Adrenaline did.
"Honestly," April said, stirring her drink, "I miss being a producer."
"Really?" Blaine asked. "I was under the impression that your first passion was performing."
"Sure. Don't get me wrong, The Wiz was a disaster," April slurred. "But there's something enjoyable about throwing around money and watching things just happen for you."
Kurt couldn't say he agreed; he was a much more hands-on type, and his father had installed a better work ethic than that in him.
"And I don't think there's another role on Broadway that requires a three drink minimum," she added, beaming and clinking her glass against Kurt's before throwing back the rest of it and slapping a hand against the counter. "Barkeep! Gimme another!"
"So you don't want to keep on Broadway after Crossrhodes?" Blaine wondered.
"Eh," April said. "I achieved the dream. Now I think my dream is having other people beg me to help them be stars. Ask me to finance their scripts..." She grasped Kurt's shoulder with a surprising strong grip for a tiny woman that was listing in her seat. "You know what I learned doing this musical?" April said, sloshing her drink around as she gestured. "You can't make it out of a pit without someone there to give you a boost. Oh, I may have the death of my rich lover to thank for my fortune, but you know what? I have Will to thank for the death of my rich lover."
"Uh…" Blaine said, looking alarmed.
"She gave him an ultimatum and he had a stroke," Kurt explained under his breath, and Blaine relaxed again, smiling at her blandly.
"Will gave me that boost out of Lima, and if he'd let me, I would have given him one, too." April looked pensive for a moment, then smiled widely and reached out to pat Kurt on the cheek. "Tell you what: when you get to New York, you look me up. I'll make sure you get your turn. If Will's going to throw away his stardom for you kids, I guess the least I could do is make sure you all don't end up losers, too."
Wes and Jesse's sing-off, which had faded into background music as Kurt and Blaine focused on the garish appearance that was April Rhodes, registered again as they hit their last note with a flourish and glared at each other, breathing hard.
"Encore!" Lauren shouted, clearly enjoying watching them dance around each other, and that was all Jesse needed to start up again, saying something that Kurt and Blaine missed because he hadn't yet picked up the mic that he'd dropped dramatically at the end of his number. Wes glared at him and raised his own (a Dalton man would never disrespect equipment like that by dropping it).
Wes started to sing "Home" and April made a face, throwing back the rest of her drink. "Ugh, that production is going to haunt me forever. Excuse me, boys, I'm going to go play a game I like to call 'hot tub fishing.'"
She slid off of her stool, wobbled a little, and made for the exit. Kurt stared after her, sight unseeing.
"Blaine," he said, dazed. "Did a reckless millionaire Broadway producer just offer to be my benefactor?"
"I think she did, yeah."
"Oh, my God. I mean, this depends on about a million things, the least of which being whether she even remembers making the offer an hour from now, but… oh, my God."
Blaine took his hand and squeezed it, grinning excitedly. "I'm sure she'll remember. I mean, who could forget you?"
"Oh, hush," Kurt said, but he was too excited to get properly bashful. Jesse's smug assurance came back to him: no one would ever cast him for a role, they'd never put on an all-male production of something, or even write new, original roles for him… But April would. April totally would. And he knew he would be a much better investment than an all-white production of the Wiz.
This was his moment. This was his dead millionaire lover, this was his being pushed onto a bus bound for New York because he had nowhere else to live. He had the talent and the determination, and now he had his chance, too. He may have found the answer to all of his hopes and dreams in the form of a sloshed, middle-aged sex addict.
"I could see one of my plays on Broadway. I could star in one of my plays on Broadway. Maybe not Pip Pip Hooray," Kurt said, "Since that's a female part. Maybe something else. But I could, Blaine, I could totally be on Broadway this way."
Blaine was grinning like he'd just been offered the opportunity of his dreams, and Kurt was grinning back, feeling like his own excitement was feeding off of Blaine's and looping back around on him.
However, their moment was interrupted (Kurt supposed he really should start to expect that) when the barkeeper said loudly and irritably, "Hey! She didn't pay for those drinks!" He fixed an angry stare at Kurt and Blaine, as if it were their fault.
"So just charge her room," Kurt said tetchy. Why couldn't he and Blaine just have an uninterrupted minute to themselves? Was sixty seconds alone seriously too much to ask for?
"Hold on," Blaine said, holding up a hand and grasping Kurt's arm. "She did just offer you a job, let's not stick her with the bill." He smiled widely. "Jesse can cover it."
Kurt smiled back as Blaine reached into the leather jacket that he'd left on the bar top, reached into the pocket and pulled out his wallet. "How much?"
The bartender huffed out a price and Blaine flipped through the bills and pulled out the appropriate dollar amount. The bartender took it, his grumbling soothed by the tip Blaine had slipped in, and walked off to the cash register.
"A toast," Blaine suggested, lifting his glass with an emorous grin, "to generosity."
Kurt laughed and clinked their glasses together. They both took generous drinks, laughing and grinning at each other as Kurt contemplated his unbelievable luck.
Kurt broke off chuckling abruptly, his glass hitting the table with a loud clank.
"Kurt?" Blaine asked, instantly concerned. "What?"
"You have Jesse's wallet."
"We have a key to an empty hotel room, Blaine."
They stared at each other for a beat, and then they broke into a flurry of movement.
"Oh, my God, we're morons," Blaine groaned, throwing back the rest of his drink as he grabbed Jesse's jacket.
"Hurry, hurry," Kurt was hissing, both hands flat on Blaine's back and pushing him toward the door as he tried to hunch down. "Hurry, before any of them notice we're leaving and try to stop us." If they could just make it to the entrance that separated the bar from the lobby, and through the lobby to the elevators… Kurt held his breath as they neared the threshold, feeling his adrenaline spike as he expected someone to shout out to them, or for Josh Groban's body guard to accost them, or something...
"Oh, wait," Blaine said, twisting away and reaching toward the right just as they were about to pass through the doorway.
"Where are you going?!" Kurt hissed as Blaine turned around.
"I had onions on my hamburger!" Blaine said, seizing a handful of complimentary dinner mints and nearly emptying the bowl. "I want to be able to kiss you when we're…"
"Okay, okay, but come on—" Kurt interrupted, feeling as though they'd jinx it if one of them actually said it out loud. He grabbed Blaine's elbow and pulled him through the lobby, the both of them speed-walking to the elevators as Blaine fumbled with the wrappers.
Kurt stabbed the elevator button with excessive force, his nerves making him jam it a few times in quick succession.
He'd never noticed how slow elevators were before. God, was the thing stopping on every floor? Beside him, Blaine was radiating nervous energy, stuffing wrappers in his pocket as he popped what had to be at least a dozen mints into his mouth at once, causing his cheek to puff out.
When the doors finally dinged and slowly rolled open, Kurt and Blaine practically leapt into the (thankfully empty) elevator. Kurt's hand slapped the "close door" button, and he was actually shocked when Jesse didn't throw the toe of his designer boots in between them before the doors could fully close.
"What's the room number?" Kurt asked breathlessly.
"409," Blaine read off the card, voice somewhat garbled. Kurt punched the button for the fourth floor.
The elevator ride was silent save for the crunching sound of Blaine hurriedly eating breath mints and the sound of their quickened breathing.
They held hands as they just-shy-of-sprinted down the hallway, nearly overturning a service cart as they took a corner too fast. They managed to stumble away with only a banged shin (Kurt's), however. They skidded to a stop in front of door 409. Blaine fumbled with the card, slid it through the lock on the door, and both of their hearts skipped a beat when they heard the click of the lock slide free. They wrenched the door open together.
They both collapsed against the other side of it, holding it closed, staring into the empty room with their hearts racing.
"I can't believe we made it," Blaine said.
"I thought the key wouldn't work," Kurt said.
"I thought the elevator would get stuck."
"I thought someone would follow us."
"I thought the guys would insist I defend our honor."
"I thought that cleaning lady would have us removed."
Their heads turned, staring at one another in open bafflement that nothing was stopping them. It took a moment to realize that nothing was stopping them, and they lunged at each other.
Blaine's mouth felt good and long overdue underneath Kurt's own. He pulled Blaine closer, kissing him harder as Blaine's hands scrabbled at his sides for a moment before he got a tight hold on his shirt, bunching it up in his fists and pulling his shirttails free from his jeans as a result. Kurt let go of his lapel to wrap his arms around his shoulders and drag him even closer, until their hips were bumping and their chests were tight together and he was pressed between the door and Blaine's hot, solid body.
"Wait, is this okay?" Blaine asked, pulling his mouth away.
"Do you really have to ask?!"
"I know you said—we both said—no motels…"
"Hotels are totally different," Kurt assured him quickly. "That is. Unless for you…?"
"No, no," Blaine rushed to agree, "hotels are completely different."
"Good," Kurt said, reclaiming his mouth, but as he tried to slide his tongue inside Blaine broke away again. "Blaine," Kurt groaned.
"Is my breath okay?" Blaine murmured, not an inch away from Kurt's lips, their noses brushing.
"Yes, it's fine, Blaine, just keep kissing me."
"Okay," Blaine said with a wide grin before he pushed up to take Kurt's mouth again. Kurt groaned, one of his hands slipping from his shoulder to his cheek to hold his jaw tight against him in place.
Blaine's hips wiggled closer, and then they were grinding into his, and wow, that was Blaine's dick rubbing up against him, not entirely unfamiliar but still a jolt every time, and Kurt's head swam as he experienced all of his blood racing down to his cock like it was an olympic sprint. He broke away from Blaine's mouth with a gasp and Blaine, true to his promise, didn't stop kissing him: his lips roamed from his chin down to the spot on his neck just below his ear.
"Oh my God," Kurt gasped, hips instinctively rocking in a counter pace to Blaine's, feeling like he was burning up in his thin summer clothes and feeling both overwhelmed and desperate for more. "Oooooh… no, wait, clothes off," he gasped. "We're supposed to take our clothes off before we have sex."
"Okay," Blaine groaned into his ear, and Kurt shivered all over. "Okay, well—you need to let go of me, then."
"Okay," Kurt gasped, even as his arms tightened reflexively around Blaine's shoulders and he hauled him closer. Blaine let out a shaky laugh and Kurt groaned, "Oh, shut up. You let go of me."
Blaine's hands unfisted his shirt—but then instead of backing up his fingers curled around Kurt's waist and he rubbed his hands up and down his sides. "…Okay," he admitted, "this is harder than I thought."
Kurt burst into a mortifying, uncontrollable bout of giggles. "I—God, sorry—" he gasped, trying to cut himself off without hiccuping. "Oh my God, Blaine, shut me up—"
Blaine kissed him, hard, hands coming up to cradle his face gently as his tongue pushed into his mouth and his lips slid against his firmly. All of the mirth evaporated as Kurt kissed him back feverishly, and when Blaine released his lips again he laid his hands on the door and pushed his body backwards.
"Okay," Kurt gasped. "Clothes off first. And then bed. Lying on it. Then sex."
"That sounds like a really romantic, elegant plan," Blaine said in a breathless voice without a trace of sarcasm as he took a step backward. Kurt followed him, feeling an irresistible draw as sure as if he were being pulled by a fishing line.
Blaine blinked, and then some of the haze seemed to clear.
“Oh, wait,” Blaine said suddenly, stretching an arm behind Kurt and reaching for the door. Consequently, he also stepped right back into Kurt's space. “Wait, lock the front door,” Blaine said.
"We have the key."
"Just a precaution," he said, flipping the lock over to halt the door from being opened from the hall. "Do you think we should lock the windows, too?"
"We're on the fifth floor," Kurt said, as his hands—of their own accord—slipped into the back pockets of Blaine's jeans and squeezed. Blaine jumped, squeaked, and then let out a shaky laugh.
"Yeah, that's uh… good point."
They stumbled toward the bed blindly kissing, narrowly avoiding Jesse's ironing board falling on them, and although Kurt couldn't find it in him to let go of his hold on Blaine, Blaine managed to unhook nearly half of the buttons on his twenty-five-button shirt. ("Why," Blaine grunted, "did you wear this?" "Well I wasn't expecting you to take it off!")
The back of Blaine's legs finally hit the (thankfully freshly made) bed and he fell back against it hard, dragging Kurt down with him. His legs wormed open, one of them immediately wrapping around the back of Kurt's leg and hooking him there, as he sucked on his bottom lip and yanked the rest of the buttons free. His slid his hands—burning hot, blood-hot—up Kurt's bared chest, staring up at him with his mouth bitten red and slightly open, and then slowly back down, feeling up his abdomen before they slipped up behind his back and tugged him tighter against him.
It was amazing, being pressed so close to Blaine like this, feeling the way their legs interlocked—but his back was also starting to hurt from being bent over the bed like that with his feet still on the floor, and the heel of Blaine's shoe was sort of hurting where it was pressing into his calf, and while the material of Blaine's polo pressed against his bare chest wasn't uncomfortable, it definitely couldn't feel as good as the hot skin Blaine was hiding underneath it.
He wormed his hands free (Blaine groaned at the way they rubbed against his butt), used them to pry Blaine's leg off of him, and stood up.
"What?" Blaine panted, sitting up on his elbows to look up at Kurt with mild concern. Kurt flushed at the way he look sprawled out on the bed, legs hanging open unselfconsciously, the bulge of his hard cock in his pants obvious and making Kurt's burn to look it. He climbed onto the bed, straddling Blaine's lap (Blaine stared up at him like there was nothing else in the world), grasped his chin and kissed him, kissed him, kissed him until he had to break apart so that his tugging hands could pull Blaine's shirt up and over his head. He threw it aside and went back to kissing him as he shrugged his own off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Blaine's bare arms wrapped around his middle and pulled him closer, and lower, until his cock was pushed up tight against Blaine's belly and he could feel Blaine's straining underneath him.
"We were going to lie down, right?" Blaine murmured, sounding dazed.
"Yeah," Kurt breathed, "let's do that."
Blaine slipped his arms off of Kurt and scooted out from under his head and back on the bed, until his feet were on the bed—and his shoes. "Oh, we forgot shoes," Kurt said, slipping back off of the bed. He grabbed Blaine's foot without asking or being asked and tugged first one shoe off and then the other. He tucked his fingers into the band of his sock and peeled it off.
"That's hot," Blaine blurted out.
"Me taking off your shoes?" Kurt asked, blinking at him. "More than taking off your shirt?"
Blaine smiled bashfully and shrugged. "Well, you've never done it before. It's… you're really undressing me."
"Yeah," Kurt breathed out. "I really am."
His own boots unzipped, however, and he didn't bother giving Blaine the option of returning the favor—not when he felt feverish and the only cure for it was to get his hands back on Blaine. He hopped back onto the bed and crawled up until he was stretched over Blaine.
"Okay," Blaine gulped, "never mind what I said before, that was hot."
Kurt was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt a little, but there was no helping it with Blaine. "Hi," he whispered.
"Hi," Blaine said softly, his hands coming up to fan over Kurt's cheeks.
"I love you," Kurt said. "I'm going to take your pants off now."
"Yes," Blaine said; looked like he wanted to say more but had been struck silent and could only arch his hips up off the bed helpfully, relying on the gesture to convey how badly he wanted whatever Kurt wanted to give him.
Kurt swallowed back a flurry of nerves. It was like the tizzy of anticipation he felt when he performed, like when he'd been kneading his hands before he'd gotten up to sing "Candles," center stage for the first time in a singing competition, having to be judged for the thing that he loved to do…
But Blaine had been there with him, and he was there now, too, thumb rubbing softly against his cheeks, fingers sunk into the hair at the back of his neck, and smiling at him blissfully, hips still raised helpfully.
Kurt let out a breath, smiled back, and ran his hands down Blaine's chest until his fingers closed over his belt. He slid the buckle open with nimble fingers, pulled it free, and dropped it over the side of the bed.
Blaine let out a little snort of laughter and Kurt froze.
"Sorry, sorry. I just pictured Jesse calling the room to sing Hawksley Workman's 'Striptease' into the answering machine for us."
"Don't jinx us," Kurt said, squeezing his hips.
"Okay, sorry. Okay, you can keep going, I promise, no more giggling."
"That's okay," Kurt said. "I'm glad I'm not the only one that's nervous," he admitted with a whisper. He wanted it, to explore this new venue to making Blaine feel good, to embrace a new intimacy—but he was still be so anxious about it. One would think that surety would be enough to be confident.
Blaine smiled at him so gently and pressed down on his neck. "Come here," he said, and kissed him long and slow and soothingly, and as the tension leeched out of Kurt his hands went to work steadily, unbuttoning Blaine's pants and pulling down his zipper, tucking his fingers into the hem of his pants, snagging the top of his underwear, and peeled them both down… and when he finally broke off from the kiss, Blaine's pants were down to his knees.
Kurt stared at Blaine's eyes for a couple heartbeats, feeling his blood pound with anticipation, and when Blaine blinked he finally looked down.
"Oh, wow," Kurt whispered.
Blaine let out a breathy laugh, his hands sliding down to squeeze Kurt's biceps. "Well, that's reassuring."
"You're just… wow, Blaine," Kurt said in a reverent hush, staring at the thick, flushed shaft that flared into a rosy head, curving up toward his belly between them. He peeled Blaine's pants slowly down his legs and off his feet, and then he crawled back between Blaine's now-naked legs. He couldn't stop staring—there was so much skin, all of these dips and contours of muscle that has been smoothed over by fabric, and his eyes were drawn irresistibly to Blaine's cock, paradoxically both the most powerful and vulnerable part of him. It made Kurt's mouth water and his hands itch. "Can I touch you?"
"Yes," Blaine said immediately, and Kurt did, his hesitation suddenly gone, feeling almost hypnotized. Blaine gasped and his hips jumped, and Kurt stared, amazed. Blaine felt so soft-yet-firm, silky skin and hard cock, and he was so hot. He stroked his hand up, feeling the glide of skin against his hand, and Blaine groaned like he was in delicious pain. "Kurt… Oh, my God…"
"That's reassuring," Kurt said, unable to curb a giggle but less self-conscious about it now that Blaine was panting and rocking and making noises like this was the best thing to ever happen to him: Kurt's inexpert hand slowly stroking up and down his bare cock.
Blaine had held Kurt's hand a lot in the past few months. It was definitely their most common physical display of affection, if only because hand-holding was a lot more permissible in semipublic places than kissing, and they could do it while simultaneously doing other things—it didn't impede talking the way frenching did, for instance.
So Blaine knew that Kurt had really, really soft hands. It just hadn't been fully prepared for the reality of one of them wrapped around his cock.
"Here," he murmured shakily, shifting his head to kiss at Kurt's ear, since he was still intently sucking on his neck. He reached a hand down to correct Kurt's grip a little, to slow his pace down, and as soon as Kurt made the adjustment Blaine sagged against the bed, a groan rumbling out from his chest.
It was amazing. It was absolutely the most amazing thing Kurt had ever seen, hovering over Blaine and feeling him shudder underneath him, eyes jumping from the new faces of pleasure that were almost silly but so sweet and arousing, seeing Blaine undone like that, to the sight of his hand on someone else's cock, marveling that this was actually happening, that he was happening to Blaine but to himself, too.
Blaine's hands scrambled at the small of his back, slipping down, and Blaine groaned when his hands slipped over the denim-covered top of his ass… and then he was pushing Kurt back by the hips. "Wait," he gasped. "Oh, God… stop a second, Kurt," he moaned out frantically, sounding wild and urgent, and Kurt let go of him and sat up, panting.
"What? What?" he asked, looking down at Blaine with a bit of worry as Blaine flung a forearm over his eyes and was panting hard.
"I was about to come," he admitted, lifting up his arm to peer at Kurt, and Kurt's worry twisted up into a hot craving in his gut immediately.
"You should, then," Kurt said, a little breathlessly, his hands sliding up to cup and squeeze Blaine's knees. "Not stopping this time is the point, Blaine."
Blaine cracked a smile and sat up as well. "I want to get you naked before I come."
Kurt swallowed. "Oh," he said. He'd been so caught up with Blaine that he'd forgotten about that.
Blaine's hands slid up his thighs and came to a stop on his hips. "Can I? Or do you want to?"
"Go ahead," Kurt said, voice high. He rested his hands on Blaine's shoulders as Blaine tugged down his zipper, staring as Blaine stared, face transfixed as he got Kurt's pants open and tried to tug them down.
They didn't go anywhere.
Blaine groaned and his face planted in the center of Kurt's chest. "Kurt…"
"Don't pretend you don't like my tight jeans," Kurt said, still flushing a little. "If I'd had any idea this was a possibility today I would have worn more accessible clothes."
Blaine laughed, his shoulders shaking under Kurt's hands. He planted a kiss on his sternum and then looked up at him with a goofy, besotted grin. "Help me help you out of these things."
Four sets of hangs digging into the hem and pulling as Kurt wiggled his hips in a way that he was unfortunately sure wasn't sexy managed to make the pants ease off his hips and down.
"Oh," Blaine whispered, "Kurt."
And then he lunged forward, kissing him hard as Kurt bent back against the mattress and Blaine fell/sank over him. Kurt's legs slipped and unfolded, kicking his pants off, and then they both broke off with a loud groan as their cocks brushed against each other with nothing else between then. Blaine reached down to cradle him and Kurt whimpered.
Blaine pressed his forehead against Kurt's. "Tell me what you want me to do," Blaine murmured, and a groan swelled out of Kurt. He murmured instructions into Blaine's ear, until Blaine was jerking him off with a flourish and all he could do was pant against Blaine's neck, coherency leaving him. Blaine was trailing sloppy kisses along his own, making him shiver every time he whispered his name.
Kurt reached down between them to take Blaine back in hand, and Blaine whined and bucked into his palm. His own cock head bumped into the groove where Blaine's thigh met his hip as they pushed closer, and that was it: Blaine grabbed at his shoulders, choked out his name, and came with a shock of warm, wet mess all over Kurt's hand. Kurt let go as Blaine's hips rubbed into his, smearing come into his abdomen as Blaine came in jerks and his cock ground against his navel.
"Blaine," he gasped, feeling overwhelmed as Blaine shivered and panted over him, but then Blaine pulled back with a hot, determined glint in his eye and slid down his body, and Kurt learned the real meaning of the word overwhelmed when Blaine's lips closed over the head of his cock. He gasped and grabbed Blaine's hair, hips jumping and pushing an inch inside, and when Blaine's tongue brushed against him and he sucked Kurt pitched face-forward into the fastest orgasm that his addled mind could remember.
Blaine sat up with a delicate cough and wiped off his mouth before he collapsed on his side and fumbled for Kurt's hand lying lax on the mattress between them. Kurt frowned and pulled his hand away when Blaine's fingers slid through his come. They both looked at their hands helplessly for a moment before they simply wiped them off on the sheets and grasped each other again. Kurt fumbled with his free hand for a corner of the sheet and wiped the rest of his stomach off, then melted into the mattress, listening to Blaine breathe as Blaine rubbed his thumb over his knuckles.
Kurt glanced over at the clock. Including the stops and starts, it had taken about six minutes to lose his virginity.
Blaine was just trying to think of a polite way to say, "since we have the time, can we do that several more times?" when Kurt blurted out, "Wow, that was fast."
Kurt dropping a hand onto his face and groaned, "Oh, my God, I did not say that," as Blaine started to laugh. He propped himself up on an elbow, pulled Kurt's hand away by the wrist, and kissed him, still half-snickering through it.
He pulled away after a while to grin at Kurt, who still looked a little sheepish. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like—I am not complaining. I am so not complaining. I'm not at my best right now."
"No, you really are," Blaine denied. Kurt's expression gave way to a soft, adoring smile, and then Blaine let out an unbelieving laugh.
"Wow. I can't believe I lost my virginity on my birthday."
Kurt ran a hand carefully along Blaine's chest, glancing down at his cock. Just looking at it, rather than rubbing against it, felt strange in a good way.
"I don't think that counted."
Blaine craned his head up. "Huh?"
"As a blow job."
Blaine's eyebrows lowered, the corners of his lips twitching up. "Really."
Kurt trailed his fingers a little lower. "Do you think—maybe, instead of birthday spankings, maybe…"
"Have I ever told you how much I admire your ambition?" Blaine asked, and rolled them over.
They only did manage seven (combined), but Kurt was confident they'd get to the rest later.