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When Blaine comes home from rehearsal to find old reruns of I Love Lucy playing on the TV, he doesn’t even have to look towards the couch to know that his husband is curled up and buried under a mountain of blankets.
He doesn’t have to ask either, to know that he’s upset.
He looks anyway, of course. Kurt’s laying on his side, nothing but a head poking out of blankets with sad blue eyes that stare straight ahead at the TV. His hair is free of product and falling into his eyes, and when Blaine toes off his shoes and walks over to the couch, his gaze flickers up to meet him.
“Any room for me in that blanket fort?” Blaine asks softly, gently, and though it’s a teasing question, there’s a larger unspoken one behind it that they both know he’s really asking.
The I Love Lucy is a telltale sign to Blaine that something is wrong; it was Kurt’s mother’s favorite show. Blaine knows that they used to watch it together when he was little, and that Kurt has a memory for every single episode, can quote most of them with exactness.
The show is sentimental and sacred for Kurt, a comfort and pick-me-up like nothing else that provides an easy escape to get lost in episode after episode, which is usually the case as he watches them in long binging stretches whenever he puts it on.
Which is how Blaine knows he’s sad. Not angry, because when Kurt’s angry he organizes, rearranges furniture and clothing and the shelving system of their books and photo albums. Not anxious, because when Kurt’s anxious he bakes obsessively, plates of cookies and batches of muffins enough to share with all their neighbors.
And sometimes when Kurt is sad, Blaine’s touch isn’t welcome immediately. He needs space to process without being smothered, something they’ve learned how to work together through over the years. Blaine’s question is a system of gauging whether or not Kurt is ready for the comfort Blaine is willing to give, or if he still needs more time alone.
But when Kurt sits up with a sniffle, Blaine reads in every open line of his husband’s body how badly he needs him, his touch and his concern and his care. Kurt nods his head, says quietly around a slow breath, “Please.”
Blaine presses a soft kiss to his cheek before sitting, grabbing a fallen pillow off the floor and placing it over his lap. Kurt lays back down, resting his head on the pillow and bending his arm, the one that isn’t pressed into the couch, at the elbow so Blaine can lace their fingers together over his shoulder.
Blaine’s other hand finds its way to Kurt’s hair almost immediately, stroking through the thick strands and massaging his scalp. Blaine loves when they sit like this, when he can gaze down at the slender side profile of Kurt’s beautiful nose, the clear, curving lens of the cornea of his eye and the flash of blue iris just behind it. The bloom of his fanning eyelashes above that and the thin line of half of his pink lips.
He’s yet to find an angle where Kurt doesn’t look astounding.
They watch a handful of episodes before either one of them speak. Blaine gets lost in the show; he loves it, too. It’s classic and hilarious, even more so since getting married, but what he loves most about it is how, even in his saddened state, Kurt can’t resist his occasional giggles at Lucy's antics.
Blaine traces the scar on Kurt’s neck with his thumb in gentle sweeps, knowing that it soothes him, and it’s just a small moment between them in the flow of day to day life, not anything anyone else will ever see or some grand romantic event, but when Kurt pulls their laced hands up to his mouth and kisses the knuckle of Blaine’s thumb, Blaine feels more in love with him than he ever has before.
After some time, Kurt grabs the remote at the end of an episode and pauses the TV.
“What’s on your mind, honey?” Blaine asks, fingers still carding through Kurt’s hair.
Kurt lets out a small, heart breaking sigh, clutches Blaine’s hand tighter in his.
“It’s… It’s so silly. It’s so stupid, I know it is, but I just.” He closes his eyes and Blaine waits patiently. “You know those curtain call photos Playbill posted on their Instagram from the opening night of Virginia Woolf?”
“Mhmm,” Blaine hums in affirmation, nodding even though Kurt’s not looking at him. He loves those photos. They both look absolutely overjoyed, full to the brim with emotion from finally getting to achieve their dreams together, proud and indescribably happy and rushed with the adrenaline that comes from performing. Blaine’s not entirely sure where Kurt’s going with this.
“Well… and believe me, I know I shouldn’t have done this… but I was reading through the comments earlier today. Most of them were really positive.”
He leaves it there, a tremor cutting through his voice. Blaine swallows. Now he’s pretty certain he can guess what Kurt’s going to say next. He gives a long, slow, brush of his fingers through Kurt’s thick hair before prompting, “But?”
“But there were a few that were--” Kurt’s voice cracks fast and shaking, breaking like glass beneath Blaine’s hands. “That were really cruel... and um, making fun of my smile.”
And then he abruptly bursts into tears.
“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine whispers. Kurt’s sobs break in little squeaks, much like the sound of his laughter, only nothing like that at all, and Blaine’s chest constricts, feels like his heart is clenched in a tight fist.
Kurt turns his face into the pillow, skin flushed red and shoulders shaking as he weeps large, loud tears, tears of someone whose feelings have been so evidently and genuinely hurt.
“Baby, c’mere.” Blaine helps Kurt sit up a little and shift around so he can hold him better, wrap his arms around Kurt’s trembling frame and let him bury his face into Blaine’s neck.
Kurt this unguarded and self conscious is an extremely rare sight, and the fact that Blaine is trusted enough to see him so completely defenseless is not something he takes lightly, and never will.
“I’m sorry,” Kurt chokes between cries, pressing his hands to his eyes in an attempt to slow the tears. “It’s so s-stupid. I don’t-- I don’t need their validation… I don’t know why I’m being so damn sensitive.”
“Kurt, honey.” Blaine pulls his hands away from his eyes gently. He’s well acquainted with the way Kurt always feels guilty for having emotions, like he’s not allowed the same right to be hurt as everyone else. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel upset. Please don’t try and bottle it up.”
Kurt bites his lip, blinks a few tears away before nodding and settling his head back on Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine rubs up and down his warm back as he cries.
The internet is a nasty place. They both know that, have dealt with bullies and comments and insults their entire lives, and Blaine knows it isn’t worth it to be filled with rage or anger like he so desperately wants to be. It won’t do either of them any good and it won’t change anything that’s already been said.
But it’s terribly difficult to see it affecting his husband so deeply and personally. They both have had their fair share of practice brushing off hateful comments, learning how to fortify themselves against it, but there’s certain things for both of them that strike a little too painfully, in ways that are almost impossible to ignore.
Blaine’s is his stomach. Kurt’s is his smile.
“I love you,” Blaine breathes, kissing into Kurt’s hair and the top of his forehead. Kurt takes in a breath, exhales around a whimper.
“I wouldn’t care if it were anything else but, God, Blaine, you know how I feel about my- my s-smile. And it was such a good night, too. I was just so happy, I couldn't con-control it. And I k-keep thinking… I can’t stop thinking about something Santana said to me once--”
Blaine pulls back a little at that, frowning. “What? When did Santana say something about your smile?”
Kurt looks utterly distraught, like he’s recalling a terrible memory, and Blaine figures he must be because he knows enough about the tears rolling in fat droplets from Kurt’s eyes to know that they’ve uncovered some pretty substantial wounds.
“I… I’ve never told you about this before.” Kurt’s gaze is focused downward on his hands, so Blaine grabs them in his, threads his fingers through Kurt’s. “But back when we were broken up, and you were still coaching at Dalton, when Santana proposed to Britt I kind of… freaked out after. It was extremely inappropriate timing and I was s-such… such an asshole, but it just hurt so badly, seeing them happy and together after I had just lost you. I was so bitter and angry and I let it get the best of me.”
“Have you apologized?”
“Profusely,” Kurt nods, as another slew of tears leak hot and fast down the slope of his pale cheeks. “But Santana found me after and just… I mean, I know I deserved it, but the things she said were so a-awful, Blaine, I--"
Blaine stares at him intently. “What did she say?”
“A lot, God. I don’t remember most of it.”
Blaine can tell just by the way Kurt shudders out another sob that that’s far from the truth.
“She um… she said that you didn’t want to be with s-someone who looked like they just removed their top row of dentures every time they smiled.”
Blaine’s mouth physically drops open in complete shock.
“She… what? What the hell?”
Blaine’s blood feels like it’s boiling hot just beneath his skin. He aches unbearably with the sudden realization that he’s been completely oblivious for years that any of this ever occurred, that Kurt was lonely and hurting when he had these words spoken to him, and Jesus, no wonder he’s self conscious about his smile.
“What else did she say to you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Kurt shakes his head. Blaine cups his jaw gently in his palms, brushing his leaking tears away with his thumbs. “We’ve both moved past it. And I get it, you know? You know how defensive Santana can get, especially about Britt, and I crossed a line, I know--”
“Okay,” Blaine interjects, because as defensive as Santana can get about Brittany, Blaine can get pretty damn protective of Kurt, and right now he feels nearly dizzy with anger. “Regardless of what you did, no one deserves to be insulted like that, honey. I mean, has she ever apologized to you?
“Blaine, that’s not the point,” Kurt sighs heavily. “It’s in the past and Santana is still my friend. I just… try not to think about it anymore.”
Blaine swallows, takes a moment to regain his composure. Kurt’s right. They can revisit this discussion later, and Blaine fully intends to, but right now his husband doesn’t need him to be angry. He needs his reassurance and love.
He brushes a lock of Kurt’s bangs out of his eyes, settling his hand on the junction of Kurt’s shoulder and neck so he can continue to stroke his scar with his thumb.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Blaine says softly, with as much conviction in his voice as he can possibly instill because every part of his beating heart throbs for Kurt. Always has and always will. “I’m so sorry that anyone has ever said something to make you doubt how unbelievably beautiful you are.”
"It's true though.”
“It isn’t true.” Blaine shakes his head vehemently. It's so far from the truth that Blaine feels like laughing with the unreasonableness of it, that anyone would ever think that or say such a thing to Kurt. It's nearly unfathomable to him. “Not for one second.” He ducks his head a little to catch Kurt’s eyes. His lips are quivering. “Will you look at me, baby?"
Kurt raises his head, pale cheeks flushed and face utterly downhearted, chipping away right at the thickest center of Blaine’s heart. He holds Kurt’s gaze deeply, staring straight into his eyes.
“You already know that I think you are the most beautiful person on the entire planet. Right?”
Kurt nods slowly, eyes wide and wet and crumpling around the corners.
“There could be a million other people around you, Kurt, and I would only ever choose to look at you. Because I love you. Every single part of you. Especially your beautiful smile.”
“But I don’t know how to feel that way myself,” Kurt sniffles.
Blaine wishes he could make Kurt understand how absolutely beautiful he is just by virtue of feeling it so intensely himself. But he knows that there are also things about his own body that he can’t seem to like no matter how many times Kurt tries to reassure him that he’s perfect the way he is. He doesn't doubt the truthfulness of Kurt's words, or the way he feels, he just can't find his way to those same conclusions on his own.
Blaine can’t force Kurt to like his smile, but he can continue to remind him at every given opportunity that he loves it, that he loves him unconditionally.
And maybe, one day, if he says it enough times, Kurt will begin to see himself the way Blaine sees him.
“I know, Kurt. I know.” Blaine smiles sympathetically at him, leaning forward to kiss a dripping tear away slowly. When he speaks again, it’s warm and soft, right into the curve of Kurt’s silky ear. “It’s not fair that anyone can just say whatever they want online. But I can tell you one thing. What Santana said was wrong. I do want you. I will always want you, no matter how you look. That will never, ever, change.”
He pulls back a little. The way Kurt’s staring at him, heart in his eyes and so completely unshielded, like he’s tumbling into Blaine’s words and warmth and love with his entire body and mind, makes Blaine so warm inside he almost feels a little sick, like he's been sitting near a heater for too long.
“And as it is, what you look like is beautiful. So much so that I have a difficult time comprehending it sometimes. I adore your smile-- your true, genuine smile is so gorgeous, Kurt. It captured my heart at sixteen years old and every single time I see it, it steals it all over again.”
And for the first time that whole night, Blaine sees the hint of a smile in the curve of Kurt’s lips, upturning the edges. He can’t help but immediately smile back at the sight of it.
“Mmm, there it is,” he says in a sing song voice, leaning forward to kiss at the corner of Kurt’s lips, and his smile only grows when Kurt’s lips spread, probably against his own will, under Blaine’s mouth.
“Stop it,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t push Blaine away, just turns his face into the side of Blaine’s and nuzzles their noses together comfortingly.
“When you smile,” Blaine speaks softly, lips brushing Kurt’s smooth skin. “I know you’re happy. And all I ever want, more than anything else in the world, is for you to be happy. Every time I see that beautiful smile, my heart feels like singing.”
“You make me happy,” Kurt replies quietly, and Blaine knows his own smile is positively goofy and ridiculous at hearing those sweet, sincere words.
And because his heart is always beating in the same rhythm of love he speaks freely with, the love he's never had a problem giving to Kurt like a fountain that spills and spills and never runs dry, he stands, grabbing hold of Kurt’s hand and urging him to stand, too.
“C’mere, darling husband,” he whispers with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows. Kurt rolls his eyes affectionately, but comes immediately when Blaine pulls him close. He laces his right hand with Kurt’s left, keeps their arms up and their hands connected as he loops his other arm tight and low around Kurt’s waist. Kurt hooks his other arm under Blaine’s, curls his palm up and around Blaine’s shoulder, and rests his chin on top, body leaning fully into Blaine's support as he begins to sway them together.
They dance in small, tender circles for a moment before Blaine begins to sing softly, “Someday, when I’m awfully low, when the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you. And the way you look tonight.”
Kurt sniffles, lets his body be rocked and guided under Blaine’s touch, and before Blaine continues singing he inhales deeply, takes in a breath full of vanilla and Kurt’s cologne and their detergent that’s always a little too expensive for the budget, but that Blaine never calls Kurt out on for buying because he knows how much Kurt loves the scent of it.
“Yes you’re lovely, with your smile so warm.” He squeezes Kurt’s hand. “And your cheeks so soft.” He cranes his neck back and turns his head, kissing at the bottom of Kurt’s delicate temple. “There is nothing for me but to love you and the way you look tonight.”
They’re a lot of things together, and far from perfect is one of them.
But in Blaine’s eyes, Kurt will always be the most perfect thing he knows, not in spite of but rather because of everything that is imperfect about him.
And if Blaine has to spend his entire life providing enough love to chase away all the cruel comments on the internet toward his husband, then he can think of no better mission to devote his time to.
Because if Blaine could only choose one thing to see every day for the rest of his life, it would be Kurt’s beautiful smile.