A/N: So, really late in the game, I know! I felt like writing a Klaine reaction fic to 4x14. There’s another little Blina drabble brewing in my head, so that may come out in the future.
This one is a little off the cuff. Basically, I’m in love with those two moments in 4x14 where Blaine presses his lips together and tries not to smile. So, that’s what this is about.
Thanks for reading!
But Wouldn’t It Be Funnier To Go And Watch A Funeral?
Kurt says “we’re just friends” like it’s his job, informing everyone who’s ever so much as caught them brushing shoulders that they’re participating in entirely platonic relations together, nothing romantic or together about them at all, thank you very much. Every time he says it, something giddy and warm and disbelievingly amused bubbles up Blaine’s throat, and Blaine has to press his lips together and swallow it back before it bursts out of him. It fizzles out like pop rocks on his tongue when he finally opens his mouth to speak, sending jumping sparks of electricity down his body. He thinks it’s probably the leftover buildup of the one-hundred degrees proof joy Kurt had taken to feeding to him via mouth every day. It certainly explains why it hasn’t faded yet (seriously, the amount of times they’ve had sex this weekend is ridiculous.)
It’s funny, because he’s been positive that seeing Kurt again was going to be just as awkward and strange and complicated as Christmas Eve had been; their texts and phone calls before Christmas had been friendly enough, but when they actually met up, the shadow of Burt’s diagnosis and the shock of finally seeing each other again dampened the fire they’d just begun to try to rebuild. Since then, they’ve been flirting pretty obviously over text… but up until the moment they actually saw each other, Blaine has been pretty positive something similar was going to happen again at the wedding. It’s funny, because it didn’t.
(Not that he doesn’t appreciate being wrong once in a while.)
The second they set eyes on each other, it was like someone had doused gasoline over their growing camp pit. They’re burning so hot they’re probably scalding the air around them, and Blaine’s just been waiting for Kurt to yo-yo again like he’s been yo-yoing all year—to pull back again, just a few minutes after Blaine begins to let himself trust that he won’t this time, just late enough in the game to hurt like a barbed arrow.
But Kurt doesn’t seem to want to turn down the heat. In fact, Blaine’s blaming their continued roaring flames entirely on Kurt’s willingness to search for firewood in the darnedest places. (He doesn’t think Finn will ever forgive him for making out in that stall in the bathroom, but seriously, that one was all Kurt. At least Blaine had the clever idea to sneak upstairs before things got too heated.)
And, honestly. Kurt had rented a room already. Blaine couldn’t stop himself from giggling at the presumptuous fore-planning the entire length of the hallway.
It’s funny because Kurt is so damned insistent that it doesn’t mean anything, when Blaine knows without a doubt that it does. Of course it does. He knows Kurt Hummel, and he knows what Kurt’s been giving him every day this weekend, and there’s no way that it’s all meant nothing to him. Blaine’s seen Kurt’s eyes when he looks at him. He’s felt Kurt’s grip while they’ve had sex. And he knows. Kurt can hide from himself all he likes—fool himself into thinking he’s the only reflection in that mirror—but he can’t hide from Blaine.
When Kurt’s hand slips down his pants during Showgirls, Blaine closes his eyes and suppresses a smile and pretends he’s not mentally adding “with benefits” to the end of Kurt’s new mantra.
It’s funny because Blaine doesn’t mind waiting. He thought he might, back when waiting seemed an insurmountable task; when Kurt wouldn’t answer any of his calls; when he had begun to feel like someone had thrown an invisibility cloak over him one day when he wasn’t looking. But now… he’s fine with it.
Yes, he’d love to date Kurt again. Yes, he sometimes misses him with an aching yearning that wrings itself out of his heart too tightly. But at the same time, he’s in no rush. For the first time in a long time, he has close friends. He has people who care about him. He has drive and ambition and a firm belief in the inherent goodness of himself and those surrounding him. He has confidence in himself again, and more than that: he has a life again. He feels like he can change the world.
On top of all of that: Kurt Hummel is still in love with him, and he’s begun to trust Blaine again. One day, they are going to retire in a lighthouse somewhere in Maine. Blaine simply knows it, as he knows the shape of his own hands.
So Kurt can continue to shout his disclaimers to the rooftops. Blaine will continue to shake his head, and press his lips together to keep in the truths that want to spring out from behind his teeth. He’ll continue to live his life. And one day, Kurt will stop hiding behind “we’re just friends”, and will instead begin to finally see Blaine standing right next to him in the mirror.
It’s not waiting—not really. He’s not putting his life on hold or anything. He’s just content to stop fighting. Kurt will come when he’s ready. Blaine knows it.
And it’s funny.
It’s funny because Kurt doesn’t get the joke yet.