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It’s too easy.
He hasn’t seen Blaine since Christmas, despite their routine phone calls and occasional Skype sessions. But his visit in December, assisted by the buffer of his dad, reassured Kurt that he and Blaine could be friends — in-person friends — without succumbing to the magnetic tether that’s never left them.
Kurt knows it’s there. He knows that Blaine knows it’s there, too. They both know that it’s not going away, no matter the months or miles of distance between them. But acting on it is a different story — he’s still living in New York while Blaine is in Lima, and they’re living very separate lives now. Separate, happy lives.
And besides, they’re both growing up. Kurt even has Adam, and while he knows he doesn’t love him (the voice in the back of his head never fails to remind him that he probably never will, not in the way that he loved and loves Blaine), it’s nice and grown-up to entertain mutual attraction without turning it into exclusivity right away.
But it’s still too easy.
He’d been the one to suggest a duet at the reception, two days before his flight to Ohio. Blaine had grinned — wide enough that Kurt knew even over the phone — and took it upon himself to pick out the song so they could practice as soon as Kurt arrives in Lima.
Wednesday night, Kurt pulls up in front of Blaine’s house because his parents are out — and while that used to be a welcome invitation for a night alone, Kurt almost wishes they had decided to practice at his own, very full, home. His restraint might’ve been stronger there.
The door to the house opens before Kurt can even ring the doorbell, and Blaine doesn’t even look embarrassed at Kurt knowing that he was waiting for him. His eyes are sparkling, lips pulled tight into a beam, and he’s bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet as he holds the door open for Kurt.
“Hi,” Blaine says, and his arms twitch after the door is shut behind them, a learned response to the years of pulling Kurt close as soon as they’re inside.
Kurt isn’t one to deny himself or Blaine a hug. It’s what friends do, anyway.
He’s relieved when the hug feels normal — no one held on too long, no one looks longing or forlorn, so he rides that confidence all the way up to Blaine’s bedroom.
It’s a mistake. Because it’s too easy.
The song choice is perfect, of course. “Just Can’t Get Enough” is dance-y enough for a reception, easy to sing after a few rounds of dancing and punch, and the parts that Blaine’s laid out for them fit their vocals seamlessly.
Practicing is familiar. It brings Kurt’s guard down, makes him forget that he’s still supposed to be ignoring the inevitable pull between them. But at the same time that his brain reminds him that he’s no longer angry at Blaine, that he has forgiven him and is beginning to believe that he can trust him again, his heart reminds him that he still loves him.
And just when Blaine’s leaning in for a platonic, boundary-respectful hug, Kurt has to go and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
It’s too easy. And Blaine looks stunned.
Kurt’s a bit stunned himself. He recognized that he and Blaine have toed the line with some flirty over-the-phone banter since Christmas, but he didn’t expect himself to act on it so soon. But what shocks him the most is that he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt.
So, in all his newfound, adult confidence (that’s very much shaken up under the surface, but he has to pretend), Kurt just smiles softly, squeezes Blaine’s shoulder, and tells him he’ll see him tomorrow for the wedding.
On his way home, he picks up a box of condoms and some lube.
It’s too easy.
They didn’t even drive together to the wedding — but the second Kurt sees him step out of his car in the parking lot, his feet have a mind of their own and carry him to Blaine. They’re not the only part of his body betraying him, because talking is only a pretense before he’s pushing Blaine into the backseat, reduced to instinct and the reality that separating himself from Blaine is nearly impossible when they’re this close.
He still stutters his way through that self-soothing mantra of “this doesn’t mean anything; we’re just friends” and Blaine smiles and nods like he knows, saying that he does, and that’s all Kurt needs to forget that actually acting on his simmering need for connection with Blaine might make things more difficult.
Tina tries to interrupt them with some pathetic banging on the window, but Kurt still holds enough power over her to get her to relent with just one withering glare. Mercedes, however, doesn’t go that easily, and she has the strength to actually open the door, effectively ending their hurried reunion.
And yeah, it’s definitely “trashy blasphemous.” And yeah, it’s too easy to glance Blaine’s way out of the corner of his eye throughout the entire disastrous ceremony.
And yeah, the duet is fun. But what really grips Kurt, what really takes a hold of him and doesn’t let go, is the slow dancing.
Blaine’s cheek pressed against his, dancing closer than even some of the couples in the room. It’s intimate, familiar in an aching sort of way, and if Kurt genuinely thought that the kiss last night was a fluke and that the planning and the heated makeout in the car were both products of simmering desire and nothing more, he’d be kidding himself with the slow dancing.
Kurt stops himself from reiterating what Blaine already knows, and instead lets himself press a kiss right under Blaine’s ear where he knows will make him shiver. He’s right, of course he is, because he knows Blaine and Blaine’s body better than anyone else in the world. Maybe even better than himself, because he’s continually surprising himself in the past two days.
“I have a room,” Kurt murmurs, and he hears the hitch in Blaine’s breath. “Would you want to join me?”
Blaine nods, quick and clipped, but his eyes are dark and so, so hopeful. Kurt has to look away, because he knows what this means to Blaine. And he’s doing it anyway.
Because it’s just too easy.
When the first words out of his own mouth once the door’s shut behind them are “God, I’ve missed you,” Kurt finally knows what this means to him, as well.
Blaine echoes his sentiment and lets Kurt take, lets him push him up against the door and then against the wall and then onto the bed, so willing and eager and as adoring as he’s always been.
Kurt never thought about sex as taking, necessarily — he always considered it an act of giving, of giving yourself over to another person, of giving up your trust to be in your most vulnerable state, to show and demonstrate the gift of your love to another person. He and Blaine would always sit sweetly in that equilibrium, always giving to each other.
Blaine’s still giving. He gave himself over to Kurt when he kept their interactions to innocent hugs, when he let Kurt make the first move in the parking lot, when he didn’t book the room tonight even though Kurt knows he wanted this just as badly from the beginning.
And now, he’s letting Kurt set the rules, the tone, and it’s overwhelming in a way that “casual” sex shouldn’t be.
Kurt gets a quick glance of himself in the mirror when they’re scrambling around on the bed, pushing off the heavy comforter because it’s just-too-scratchy and it gives them a short break from the heat that’s risen so fast it’s almost suffocating.
He’s almost terrified, for a split second, because if he thought Blaine looks vulnerable, he should see himself.
And then Blaine’s kissing the back of his bare shoulder, telling him that he’s beautiful, and Kurt bites back the urge to turn and sob into his familiar arms. He’s breaking down, moment by moment, and he could let Blaine hold him and comfort him and give and give and give.
Blaine would let him take. And it’s almost too easy.
But instead, he takes a deep, shuddering breath and steels himself, knowing that Blaine saw every tiny detail of his soul in that moment of collecting himself, but he can’t bring himself to care.
Blaine, sweet Blaine, with his understanding and deep, true knowledge of Kurt, doesn’t say anything. He just guides him back to the task at hand — the much baser, instinctual task.
Finally, Kurt lets himself give a little bit more of himself to Blaine.
It started with that phone call around Thanksgiving. Kurt gave a little piece of himself back to Blaine, let him slip back into his life slowly, and moved forward.
Kurt gave even more of himself back to Blaine at Christmas. He let himself recognize just how much he missed him — not just talking to him, but his physical presence.
And now, it’s unfair, because hindsight isn’t always 20-20 and he should’ve seen this coming. Kurt knew that seeing Blaine again would break the dam holding him back, even if he also knew that he would still cling to the safety of his words and their touted friendship. He knew he would give him everything but his assent to a relationship.
Blaine still asks, afterwards, but the look in his eyes tells Kurt that he knows he’s already won. Kurt aims for flirty, succeeding in diverting the subject by using his last shred of leverage over Blaine in this whole situation by telling him that “I’ll see you downstairs.”
Kurt plans on returning to the fading reception. He even plans on another dance or two with Blaine. But just outside the reception hall, he realizes that he can’t go back in there, facing his friends and pretending like his world hasn’t just been thrown off its axis.
He reaches up to fix his hair and straighten his bow tie, a nervous tick of adjusting the last few things he can control about himself, when he realizes that he never even put his bow tie back on.
Oh, god, he definitely can’t go back in there.
“Looking for this?”
Blaine’s smile is soft and teasing, dangling the bow tie out in front of him. “You left it on the nightstand.”
“Thank you,” Kurt sighs, taking it from his gratefully and glancing back to the reception as he moves to tie it around his neck.
“Here, let me,” Blaine take a step closer, and Kurt’s helpless as Blaine reaches out and ties it cleanly. “There. As good as new.”
“Blaine, I —“ Kurt’s surprised to see a knowing smile on Blaine’s face — but really, should he be, at this point? “I think I’m going to head out.”
“Me too,” Blaine agrees, toying with his keys in his pocket. “I’m exhausted.”
Kurt catches the innuendo and laughs, louder than he probably should in a hotel at night. “You said you’ve been working out more. What happened to all that stamina?”
“Well, the Kurt Hummel experience has always been my weakness,” Blaine responds easily, and Kurt ducks his head and smiles as they walk out to the parking lot together.
“Hey,” Blaine says after a short stretch of silence. “I love you, Kurt. You know that.”
“I know,” Kurt nods. “And you know I do too.”
Of course Blaine knows, even if Kurt can’t say it now. He said it too many times into the electrically-charged space between them back in the hotel room.
Blaine smiles gently. “Yeah. I do. Hey, there’s a double feature at the revival house tomorrow, would you want to come with me? They’re doing student discount tickets on Fridays now.”
“I’d love to,” Kurt replies honestly. “I’ll stop by McKinley and we can go from there?”
“Sounds perfect,” Blaine agrees. “Good night, Kurt.”
“Night, Blaine,” Kurt tries not to look too fondly at Blaine when he lights up at the kiss that Kurt ghosts to his cheek, failing miserably.
Neither his dad nor Carole make mention of his terrible attempt at acting normal when he gets home, but he knows they see right through his bland, uninspired answers to their questions and lack of interest in the real drama of the day — that Ms. Pillsbury left Mr. Schue at the altar, god.
He falls asleep thinking of Blaine, but he figures after the day they’ve had, he’s allowed to.
The next day, it’s too easy to tell Tina that they’re just friends, but he doesn’t miss the look on Blaine’s face that lets Kurt know that he’s still just as determined as ever to change that.
He’s going to have to wait a little longer. But Kurt’s more inclined to let him bask in the potential than he was even a few days ago.
The double-feature is fun — Kurt never doubted that it would be. Blaine is always great company, and together or not, Kurt stands by the fact that he’s still his best friend.
Blaine drives them home, singing along to the radio together like everything’s normal and they weren’t hooking up in a hotel room just twenty-four hours ago. When they reach the intersection before Kurt’s little neighborhood, however, Blaine turns to him at the red light with an apprehensive smile.
“I know it’s totally cliche and not at all the ideal situation, but you’re leaving tomorrow and if you want, we could take a detour to The Spot for a little bit.”
The Spot, as they had dubbed it the summer before Kurt’s senior year of high school, is a secluded, tree-covered stretch of road in the back of the nearby community park that’s rarely frequented by casual travelers. They’ve only ever seen another car parked on that street a few times, and it’s been a relatively consistent place to pull off for a quick makeout session before returning home.
As they grew older, The Spot allowed for a bit more than a makeout session, though they tried their best to keep those activities contained to parent-free houses. That being said, desperate times call for desperate measure, and they were always careful not to stay for too long.
Kurt knows he should say no, should say that their hookup and (numerous) kisses were a one-time/one day situation.
But it’s too easy. It’s too easy to say yes.
Kurt nods, suppressing a grin. “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay,” Blaine echoes, flipping his turn signal on and making the detour, the music long forgotten and the car buzzing with anticipatory quiet.
The minute they’re parked, Kurt’s pushing the passenger’s seat back and Blaine’s unbuckling frantically, climbing into Kurt’s lap with a hurried “Is this okay?” even though he knows it absolutely is.
Kurt thinks he does a bit better today when he walks inside after Blaine drops him off, engaging in casual conversation about his day with his dad and Carole.
He does catch Carole’s wink, though, when he heads upstairs. He really hopes that she’s just winking because he spent the day with Blaine and not because she’d accidentally seen the way-too-heated kiss they shared in the driveway before parting ways.
It was like they weren’t even trying to be “just friends.”
The bright hickey at the base of his neck says the same. Kurt’s eternally grateful for the February cold and the cozy turtleneck he has on, because he couldn’t bear to tell Blaine not to leave a mark. In some backwards, possessive, and definitely beyond “just friends” way, they both subconsciously wanted the physical reminder of each other when Kurt returns to New York — it’ll still be there when he lands tomorrow, and will probably be visible but fading the next day. But he’ll know it’s there, and so will Blaine.
Blaine texts him good night and wishes him a safe flight home. He asks for Kurt to text him that he’s home safe once he is back in the apartment, and Kurt tells him he will — but when he arrives home to a surprisingly empty loft, he does him one better and calls, against his better judgment.
“Hey,” Blaine sounds happy, always happy, albeit a little surprised. “Are you home?”
“I am,” Kurt answers. “I don’t know why we didn’t talk while I was home, but we need to.”
“Okay,” Blaine replies carefully, shifting around on the other end of the line. “I think I know what this is about, but you go first.”
Kurt laughs slightly at that. “I figured as much. Well, there’s no use dragging it out. I missed you, Blaine. A lot. I missed connecting with you... in that way. But I’m not ready for relationship, I’m not sure if I will be —“
Kurt knows that he will be. But not yet. It’s too fresh, this realization. He needs to let himself sit with it, to let himself have something casual for once, to let himself really long for Blaine again, and not in this thrumming, insistent way that dawned upon him the minute he walked into Blaine’s house. He needs to make sure that he’s not just missing the sex or the friendship.
He knows he’s not. But he also knows he needs more time.
“I know, Kurt,” Blaine says, calmly and sweetly, and it positively soothes Kurt’s buzzing nerves. “I understand. So... are you asking for us to be friends with benefits?”
“I guess,” Kurt admits before he can stop himself and word it differently. “But you need to understand that it’s not changing things, it’s just... for fun, I don’t know —“
“You know,” Blaine murmurs. “And so do I. But I’m okay with it, if that’s what you need. But, since we’re being honest, it means something to me. And I think it is changing things. So... as long as you know that, I’m okay.”
“Yeah,” Kurt responds simply. “I do.”
“So, bro. Are you alone right now, bro?”
Kurt laughs into an exasperated groan. “Absolutely not. That will shut this whole agreement down so fast, I swear to god.”
“What? I thought you liked it when I talk fratty?” Blaine teases.
“I can be persuaded in the moment —“
“Uh huh.”
“Stop it!”
“Stop what... bro?”
“Blaine.”
“Fine, fine, but you at least have to answer my question.”
Kurt sighs amusedly. “Yes, I am alone.”
“Great. Then let me help you, bro.”
And of course, it’s all too easy for that little voice in the back of his head to remind him once again — you are so in love with this man.