Fic: A Place That's Safe and Warm (6/10)

[mshoneysucklepink]

Jane Bradley @jane_bradley This guy was interviewed on BBC about the Boston shootings. See top right hand corner - he’ll never live it down: pic.twitter.com/kE59zfLmLU 5:47 AM - 19 Apr 13

“I’m bored,” Santana groaned, leaning on the door frame to Kurt’s room.

Kurt raised his brow; “What do you want us to do about it?” Blaine and Kurt had passed the time swimmingly. They had done three loads of laundry, watched two movies, and polished off the last of the frittata for lunch in between. They were currently sitting against the headboard next to each other, watching that week’s episode of “Mad Men” while commenting on the fashions and the bad-assness of Trudy Campbell.

Santana walked in and flopped herself across the foot of Kurt’s bed. “I got up to Level 150 of Candy Crush Saga, I’ve read everything I can find online about Chechnya-- thank you, by the way, for telling me that “Chechens” aren’t actually from the Czech Republic--and I refreshed YouTube and still no one’s autotuned Uncle Ruslan yet. I called Artie; he said if I send him the link he can probably do it and email it to me. Oh, and I did an image search on that dildo on top of the BBC interview guy’s fridge to see if I could find it on Amazon.”

By the look on her face, Blaine guessed she didn’t. Kurt must have seen it too; “So I guess your phallic quest was unsuccessful?” he said.

“Maybe it was a novelty water bottle after all, I don’t know,” Santana said. “All they’re showing on the news is reporters moving back and forth, behind the barrier, over the barriers, it’s like fucking musical chairs.” She reached over and slapped at Kurt’s foot. “Entertain me. Put on a show.”

“I think I know what kind of show you are implying, and the answer is no,” Kurt admonished as he got off the bed. “I’m going to make another pot of coffee. Santana, play nice.”

“Jeez, Kurt, I meant singing, get your mind out of the gutter,” Santana rolled her eyes. She leaned on her elbow and looked up at Blaine, who was suddenly nervous about being left alone in a room with her. “So, have you exhausted him yet?”

Blaine didn’t know how to take that question, but either way he didn’t want to answer. “I’m, um, going to help Kurt find some clean coffee mugs,” he said, getting up from the bed and walking out of the bedroom.

“Aw, come on, tell me your secrets!” Santana chased after him into the living room, teasing him. “Why did you guys have to wash Kurt’s sheets all of a sudden, huh?”

“Oh my God, seriously? I have no clue how he lives with you,” Blaine said, exasperated at Santana’s joshing.

“Um, Santana?” Kurt walked out of the kitchen holding an empty coffee canister. “Where’s the coffee?”

Santana said in an irritated tone, “What coffee?”

Blaine turned to look at Kurt, certain he was about to witness him having an aneurysm. “The coffee that you were supposed to get. The coffee I put on the list the beginning of the week because we were low. The coffee that we now don’t have, because you brewed the last of it this morning!”

“Oh, I was going to go last night, but then Brittany called and I figured it could wait until today, but then the lockdown and…um, oops?”

“Oops? That’s all you have to say is fucking OOPS?!?!”

“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know they’d shut the city down? Besides, we had enough coffee, until you decided to invite your little boy toy java addict over last night!”

Blaine bristled at both terms, “I am NOT a java addict!” He then stuttered, “and I am…not Kurt’s ‘boy toy’.”

“Well then what are you?” Santana smirked, her arms crossed as if to challenge him.

Blaine realized… he didn’t have a very clear answer to that. He and Kurt were friends, for sure. They were compatible sexually, that was a given. But he didn’t know how Kurt really felt about him, except all those years ago after the first time they had been together, when he said he didn’t want to screw things up between them, that he cherished their friendship too much. Blaine understood and respected that, which was why it always bewildered him that they kept falling into bed with each other. Well, maybe bewildered wasn’t the right word, he knew why. Because Kurt knew how to put him back together when his heart was broken, and how to still him when his frustration with his parents left him shaking. Somehow he knew that sometimes Blaine needed a way to let go of everything that stressed him out, made him afraid, inhibited him, and just be, and Kurt provided that outlet. Blaine was happy to do the same thing for Kurt. When Adam moved back overseas, Blaine could take Kurt’s pain and bury it for him. When Mr. Hummel lost the election Blaine saw Kurt’s disappointment, and just wanted to soothe it away. Even last night, seeing Kurt spiraling into sadness broke Blaine’s heart and he just wanted to see him happy all the time, the way Kurt made him happy, even in these ridiculous out-of-the-ordinary circumstances, and…

Oh.

Oh.

Oh Jesus shit fuck holy crap Blaine loved Kurt. He was in love with Kurt Hummel. Had he been in love with him this whole time? Did Kurt love him back? Oh God, what if he didn’t? What if Blaine really was just Kurt’s boy toy, to him anyway? What if Kurt was yelling at him…wait why was Kurt yelling at him?

“Blaine? Blaine!”

“Huh? I’m sorry, what?”

Kurt looked exasperated. “I said, you have to go to Dunkin’ Donuts with Santana to get coffee.”

Santana whined, “Wait, why am I going again? And why do I have to take him?”

“Because A., I’m waiting for a call from my dad, and I can’t have my phone going off while sneaking out. B., someone on the lease needs to stay behind in case the police come to do their check while you guys are gone. C., between your Lima Heights upbringing and your overall underhanded sneaky ways, you’re the best qualified to make a surreptitious errand. D., it was your responsibility to get the coffee in the first place. Oh, and E., Blaine’s going with you to be a lookout.”

Blaine was very confused right now; he had apparently missed a lot while he was having a major emotional realization. “Wait, what the hell is going on? What is this about me being Santana’s lookout? I thought we were in a lockdown; we can’t leave, remember? Besides I thought everything was closed.”

“Not Dunkin’ Donuts,” Santana said, lightly punching him in the arm. “Don’t you know? If Dunkie’s closes, the terrorists win.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Kurt said. “I think cabin fever and caffeine withdrawal has gotten the best of us, and that maybe we all need a break from each other before someone gets choked. Santana and you will sneak down to the Dunkin on Broadway, get coffee, maybe enough carbs and sugar so we can get through the rest of today, or at least until they temporarily lift the lockdown. They have to at some point, right? You’ll look out for any police so she doesn’t get busted for breaking a curfew. That and help her carry the coffee.”

“Shit, Hummel, how much coffee am I buying anyway?”

“Enough to keep up an elephant!” Kurt snapped, pausing before he sighed, “At least enough so we don’t have to buy anymore for a couple of weeks, okay?”

“Fine, let me get dressed. I’ll put a couple of extra razor blades in my hair in case we run into any stray bombers.” Santana went to her room to change out of her tank top and boy short PJs.

Blaine looked toward Santana’s room. “She’s not serious about the razor blade thing, is she?”

“Of course not, “Kurt said. “She only does that at night.”

He could tell by Kurt’s teasing tone that he was just kidding. Still, he prickled at the implication that coming across a terrorist-on-the-run could very well happen. “Kurt, are you sure about this? I mean, I don’t know how safe it is out there.”

“Boston is crawling with police all looking for the same guy. I think the numbers are pretty favorable. I know you’ll be careful, and you’ll look out for her in spite of yourself. Besides, Santana knows I’ll kill her if anything happens to you.”

Blaine softened at Kurt’s protective phrasing. He thought about his epiphany and thought, maybe Kurt did feel the same way about him, or would be willing to explore the possibility. Going on this coffee errand would give him time to plan; perhaps even pick Santana’s brain about where Kurt’s head and heart may be. He just knew didn’t want to screw this up.

“Okay, let’s get a move on.” Santana came out of her room, wearing a tight mini-dress and high-heeled booties. “The sooner we get this over with the sooner I can get back to live-tweeting my death from boredom.”

Kurt cast a skeptical eye over Santana’s ensemble. “Are you sure that’s appropriate attire for a covert mission?”

“I’ll give you a covert boot up your ass…”

“Come on, Santana, let’s go,” Blaine said as he took Santana’s elbow and led her to the door, in an attempt to defuse the situation before it got any worse. “Bye Kurt…I’ll text you when we leave Dunkin’s.”

“See you later, and be careful!”

Blaine shut the door behind him and caught up with Santana on the sidewalk. Maybe this was his chance. “Okay, so which way…”

“Rule Number One, no talking.”

“Um…okay?”

Santana turned on her heel and spun around, immediately in Blaine’s face with a well-manicured finger pointed right at him. It was intimidating, to say the least.

“I don’t like you,” she said. “I don’t like your ties, your boat shoes, your hair, or whatever small creatures you have trapped and gasping for air underneath all that gel, and I sure as hell don’t like how you jerk my boy Kurt around. You will quietly serve as a lookout for any cops. You will only open your mouth and your wallet when I ask you to, and you are paying for the coffee, as well as anything else my sweet tooth might crave when we get there. Do we have a mutual understanding?”

Blaine gulped and started to say “yes,” but thought better of it and simply nodded in the affirmative.

“Good,” Santana smiled and winked, turned, and headed in the direction of the shop. “Let’s get coffee.”

This was going to be a long walk. Blaine had no idea how they were supposed to be inconspicuous with the click-click-click of Santana’s boot heels striking the pavement. The sound of her footsteps echoed down the deserted street, seemingly amplified by the lack of ambient noise. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to keep up, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone that might see them. What would happen if they were caught, he wondered? Would they be arrested? Maybe they could get away with just a ticket or a citation? Oh, God, what if Santana really did have razor blades in her hair? Would they be considered a weapon? Duh, of course they would! They’d get hauled off to jail, probably get interrogated. He’d seen The Town, if for no other reason than he had sort of a thing for Jon Hamm. Hmm, being interrogated by Jon Hamm wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen…who was he kidding? He’d probably get tasered or waterboarded or something, and then he’d never get to tell Kurt that he was in love with him. What the hell did Santana mean by “jerking him around,” anyway? Blaine would never…

“We’re here,” Santana announced.

Blaine looked up and realized he was in the Dunkin Donuts parking lot. Huh. That didn’t take long. Worrying apparently was not only something he got from his parents, but also a great way to make the time pass quickly.

“You grab the coffee. Two bags whole bean original, bag of dark roast, bag of vanilla. I’m going to get my donut fix on.”

Santana sauntered up to the register, clacking her nails on the counter. Blaine quickly grabbed the coffee bags and joined her. The radio in the shop was tuned to one of those easy listening stations, and Blaine could hear a familiar song playing; “turn down the lights, turn down the bed, turn down these voices, inside my head...” He shook off the melancholy feeling, directing his focus to the variety of baked treats behind the counter instead. Santana was already putting in their order, the cashier filling a box with chocolate glazed Boston Kremes, Strawberry Frosted, Maple, Coconut, jelly-filled…she was seriously racking up a bill, on Blaine’s dime, he realized. Come to think of it, he could use something sweet; if he was buying he should at least get something for himself. His eyes glanced over to one item that he couldn’t resist.

“Is that…is that a bowtie donut?”

Sure enough, there was a tray of larger pastries that looked like they had been twisted into a knot resembling a bow. Santana rolled her eyes, before nodding her head, and telling the girl “alright, and a couple of Bow Ties.”

Blaine grinned. “Thank you, Santana…”

“Don’t thank me; it’s not like I’m paying for it.”

He tried not to let his annoyance show, deciding to wait until they’d paid and left before confronting her. He gave the cashier his card, then took out his phone to send off a quick text.

4:25 p.m. Mission half accomplished! Coffee and donuts obtained, on our way back to HQ.
4:25 p.m. HQ?
4:26 p.m. Headquarters!
4:26 p.m. I’m rolling my eyes at you right now, jsyk. Hurry back but be careful!

Blaine signed the receipt, pocketed his phone and card, and held the door open for Santana. As they walked out of the store she turned around and piled the entirely of their purchases in his arms. Blaine had had enough.

“Okay, what is your problem with me?”

“I thought I said no talking, Blaine.”

“No, we are going to air this out before we get back to the apartment, and not in front of Kurt. What did you mean earlier about ‘jerking him around?’ I would never do that.”

“Wouldn’t you? What have you been doing the last three years?”

“I…” Three years. Three years since the first time he and Kurt had slept together. “It’s what he wanted! He said our friendship was too important to screw up by trying to have a relationship.”

“And why would he say that?”

“I…I don’t know? Maybe he was afraid of what would happen if we broke up. Maybe he just doesn’t like me that way and was trying to let me down easy, I don’t know.”

“So, let me get this straight. This whole time, you’ve been ‘just friends,’ according to you,” Santana emphasized with air-quotes…easy for her to do since her arms weren’t full of donuts and coffee, he thought. “Yet you fuck like rabbits.”

Blaine scoffed, “We don’t fuck—” He suddenly looked around, realizing his surroundings and that his voice had gotten louder. He hissed, “We don’t fuck like rabbits. Yes we have sex, not that it’s any of your business, but not all the time.”

“No, just when he gets dumped, or you get cheated on, or something happens in his family, or your family. Seeing a pattern here, Blaine? He’s my friend too, and I live with him, so as far as I’m concerned it is my business. Let me ask you something. Have you bothered to ask him in the last three years if anything has changed?”

Blaine was floored. Did he miss something this whole time? He couldn’t have. “No, Kurt would have said something. He would have told me.”

“Told you what, exactly? That he’s never gotten any signals other than friendship from you? That once you graduated he figured you’d probably forget about him and be wrapped up in post-college life? And then how amazed he was that that didn’t happen and you were still there? Or that it’s too late to tell you he loves you because oh, he’s moving to New York after graduation so why bother?”

Blaine was flabbergasted...and then elated. Kurt did love him back! This was possibly the best news he could have received, from Santana no less. Wait a minute…

“Wait, why would he tell you?”

“He didn’t,” Santana shrugged. “I eavesdrop on his phone calls. That, and every time you leave, or he comes home from your place, he mopes for a couple of days like someone burned his whole collection of McQueen scarves.”

Blaine looked over the armload of donuts and through Santana like she wasn’t even there, seeing all of the missed opportunities with Kurt, “Holy shit,” he whispered, as his eyes began to water.

Santana stared at Blaine, with an inquiring furrow in her brow. She whistled and muttered, “Damn, that hair gel must have actually seeped into your brain. You really didn’t have a clue, did you?”

Blaine gasped out a small giggle and broke out into a grin; seeing Santana’s reaction, he realized he must have just developed a major case of heart eyes. “He loves me. Oh my God Santana he loves me!”

“Oh God, shut up, Blaine, you’re going to get us busted…”

“HEY!” an unfamiliar voice called out. “Boston P.D., stop right where you are!”

Blaine and Santana froze. They turned around to see a lone officer with his gun drawn. Shit.

“Hands where I can see ‘em!”

Blaine fumbled for words, trying to get his brain and his mouth to work at the same time. “Um, can we, uh, put the donuts down? Wi-wi-without dropping them, I mean?”

“Slowly, you can. But n-n-no sudden movements!”

Blaine carefully bent with his knees and set the box of donuts and the bag of coffee on the sidewalk. As he slowly rose back to his feet with his hands raised he saw Santana out of the corner of his eye, who looked petrified.

The officer approached them, silently patting them both down with one hand; he noticed that the officer seemed nervous and shaky. To Blaine’s relief, he put his service arm back in his holster.

“Now, what are you two doing out here? You know there’s a lockdown, and that means no one’s supposed to be outside.”

Blaine looked over at Santana, who was still rendered mute. He decided to be proactive. “Officer…” he glanced at the name badge, “…Bamboo, I apologize. We are law-abiding citizens, and we would never, ever think about circumventing orders of the governor if it wasn’t an emergency.”

The officer looked skeptically at the Dunkin Donuts containers at Blaine’s feet. “Um, what kind of emergency?”

Shoot. “Well, uh…she’s pregnant?”

Blaine was almost certain that if looks could kill, the one Santana was giving him would reduce him to a smoldering pile of dust and hairgel on the pavement.

“She’s in that craving phase, you know? For some women its pickles and ice cream, for my Tana it’s Dunkins!” Blaine probably earned that stink-eye he was getting from Santana right now. “We thought we could get through today, but then she just had to get her fix. Doctor says it’s better for the baby to indulge the cravings. Plus you know today’s just been so stressful for everyone…”

Officer Bamboo held up his hand, “Hold it right there.” Blaine stopped. God he hoped he pulled it off. “You don’t have to say anything else.”

“I don’t?”

“He doesn’t?” Santana echoed.

“Nope. I’ve got two little ones at home, and my wife’s expecting the third any day. I know about the cravings; for Terri it’s cannolis from Mike’s. And they have to be from Mike’s; I got her the ones from Modern Pastry once? Cause it was too late on Saturday and Mike’s was closed, you know? Big mistake.” 

Blaine was stunned, surprised, a little guilt-ridden (but just a little). Santana was even smiling in spite of it all. “Oh, I believe you. So…you won’t arrest us?”

“No, as long as you don’t have far to go. Um, you don’t have to go far, right?”

Santana and Blaine looked at each other. “No, sir, just another couple of blocks.”

“Good,” he said, picking up the packages and giving them back to Blaine. “Just go home, watch the news, they’ll tell you when the order is lifted. Oh, one more thing?”

Blaine turned, “Yeah?”

“Take a lesson from me. Next time, buy extra donuts.”

“We will. Thank you officer!”

“Yeah, thanks,” Santana mumbled. As soon as the officer was out of view, Blaine was able to breathe…and then felt a sharp pain against his bicep.

“Ow!” he said recoiling.

Santana punched him in the same spot again, this time twice. “That’s two for flinching. Pregnant, Blaine, really? What the fuck made you think of that?”

Blaine rubbed his arm and hissed, “It was the first thing I could think of when he asked what the emergency was that wasn’t caffeine withdrawal. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Santana sighed. “Fine, Blaine. Thank you for your quick thinking. Even if there’s no way I could be mistaken for preggers in this outfit. That cop must be really dumb to not notice.” She held out her hand and took the bag of coffee from Blaine. “Let’s head home and get this back to Kurt then. Speaking of Kurt…you were awfully excited before, yelling that he loves you. So, I guess that means the feeling’s mutual and you aren’t just using him?”

“Of course I’m not using him, Santana. I mean, I knew something had changed, my feelings for him changed, or came to the surface anyway. But I didn’t know if that even mattered if Kurt didn’t feel the same way. But according to you he does.  So now…” Blaine drifted off.

Santana quirked her brow, “Now…what?”

Blaine’s shoulders sagged with the weight of the uncertainty. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Santana; he was sure she was being as honest as she could with what information she thought she had. But there was hearing it from Santana, and then there was hearing it from Kurt. “Now...I don’t know? He’s still graduating and going to New York, which I know is just a couple of hours by train, but it wouldn’t be the same…what if he doesn’t want to do long distance? Hell Santana how do I tell him? I should just say it, right? No, wait, I should sing it…”

Santana held up her hand, “Whoa, hold up, Princess Gisele, don’t go busting out with ‘True Love’s Kiss’ or anything. Not every cop in Boston has a pregnant wife…I don’t think.”

Blaine scoffed, “Please, Santana. You obviously don’t know me that well…I would at least consider ‘I See the Light’ from Tangled.” Santana let out a little laugh, and it made Blaine do an internal happy dance that he got that out of her. “No, but really…how do I tell him?”

He looked up and realized they were at the front door to the apartment; Santana took out her key and started to unlock the door. “You’re a hot-shot writer,” she said, “write something.”

Blaine thought about it. He could write Kurt a…sonnet? No…a song? Ugh, too clichéd. Well with the day he was having he had the need to write something. As they went inside, and put the coffee and donuts down, he saw Kurt sitting in front of the TV with his laptop on the coffee table in front of him, and got an idea. “Kurt?” he asked. “Can I borrow your computer again?”

(next chapter)