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10 September 2012 @ 09:11 pm
Fic: Hail to Whatever You Found in the Sunlight That Surrounds You 7/12  
Title: Hail to Whatever You Found in the Sunlight That Surrounds You
Artist: tortugax
Word Count: 30 400
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Blaine/Kurt, Cooper, Mr. & Mrs. Anderson, Burt/Carole, minor OCs
Warnings: homophobia, mention of gaybashing and bullying, underage drinking
SummaryOn the third of August in Blaine Anderson's ninth year, something momentous happens: he sees a boy crying on the beach and decides to do something about it. What he gets in return is a best friend, a confidant, an ally to help him through the ups and downs. They spend one month together every summer. One perfect month until they are old enough to escape together. Eleven Augusts and the letters in between.

Fifteen – August 2009: The Summer When There Isn't Enough Talking

When they meet in the Tinseys' front yard after lunch Kurt says he's craving a banana split. He flushes red when he says it and Blaine studies him in confusion, studies the tiny pink circles just bellow his cheekbones that Blaine often has the urge to run his fingertips across. He shakes his head to free it of the thought. Kurt's shoulders are slumped and there is an air of general awkwardness about him. Blaine has no idea what is going on, but it can't be about the ice cream. The two of them have shared many a banana split since the first year they spent at the beach, and yet Kurt seems shy bringing it up. Kurt seems shy quite a lot lately –stammering and blushing at strange moments and tensing up when Blaine leans over him or brushes against his arm. Blaine is beginning to worry that he did something to make Kurt uncomfortable.

The sky is the inky purple of approaching twilight when they settle in with their ice cream. Kurt had changed his mind and ordered a sundae instead of the banana split they usually share, so Blaine had gotten a simple milkshake, still puzzled by the odd sideways glance Kurt had given him. The wind is wicked and the waves are crashing, and Kurt gets hot fudge all over his cheek when a particularly large gust knocks the plastic spoon from his hand.

Every year of Blaine's life has a single moment that seems to shape the rest into something, whether it be good or bad. The death of his grandfather, moving to Boston, meeting Kurt... and this year, this suddenly right here... he's not even sure how they got here. He never wants to leave.

It's almost like an accident at first – like Blaine had fallen forward when he tried to wipe the chocolate from Kurt's cheek, or maybe Kurt had, and then they had just been there, in the middle, together. Their lips just pressed together. They are both still, Blaine with his eyes squeezed shut wondering if Kurt is sneaking a look, wondering if he should too. And then they are moving and it is so much better. Soft and slick and rougher and softer again, the angle changing, the pressure back and forth until they both pull away and just stare, their ice cream tumbling to the sand, forgotten.

No one says “what does this mean?” They don't talk about it at all. It just happens and they let it.  


When Blaine returns to his house that evening after the sun has gone down, he feels as light as a feather. He floats through the front door, humming a happy tune under his breath, the sweet taste of Kurt's hot fudge sundae still on his lips.

“Then stop him from going, Mari! You're his mother; it's not rocket science!”

He stops in his tracks. His father, however, does not stop his tirade, ignoring his mother as she disagrees and tries to get him to see reason.

“That boy is the fruitiest thing this side of a fruit farm, and you just let our son wander off with him and stay out until all hours of the night. It's no wonder Blaine thinks he's... one of them, too, as much time as he spends with that boy.”

“Good lord, Tom, you aren't seriously suggesting that Blaine is making it all up. You have said many, many foolish and offensive things since –”

“It is not foolish! Monkey see, monkey do. Where else did he pick it up? Certainly not at our house! Though the movies you watch and the classes you've signed him up for over the years probably didn't help!”

“So it's my fault, too, is it? He's the way he is because he is, Tom. It has nothing to do with outside influences.”

“And so you're just happy for our son to be a –”

“No. Of course I'm not. How could I be after what happened? But you can't change something like that. We have to accept it and move on –”

“Like hell we do! We do not have to stand around while he does god knows what with that limp-wristed –”

“I will not listen to you talk about either of them in that manner!”

And as Blaine's father begins to rant once more and his mother stands up for him in one way, but never in the other, he feels a sort of calm settle over him. Although his stomach feels tied in knots and there is an annoying fluttering at the backs of his eyes, he does feel calm. He's glad, in a way, that's he's overheard them as they really are. He can no longer lie to himself, can no longer trick himself into believing that they feel one thing or another when he's heard their truths shouted so plainly.

Blaine turns around and leaves the house again, closing the door very gently behind him.

He texts Kurt on his way down the beach, stopping on their favourite piece of driftwood to wait for him to sneak away from his grandparents' house.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks before he's even reached the driftwood seat. Blaine nods, but curls into him the moment he sits down. “What happened?”

“They were fighting about me.” They were fighting about you. They were fighting about us. But then Blaine remembers what they had been doing only an hour or so before and he wonders for the first time just what that us has morphed into. Still he says nothing, worried that Kurt won't want to discuss it. More worried that he won't hear the answers that he needs. Instead of talking more he cuddles closer, Kurt's lips pressing to the top of his head. He smells Kurt's shirt and the sea breeze and he's still okay. Less shaky and teary and okay.

They sit until their butts are numb and then move to the soft sand where they fall asleep, limbs tangled and Blaine's ear against Kurt's chest. His heart is beating in tandem with the rolling of the waves.

In the morning they go home to shower and change in order to meet for breakfast. Blaine's father's car is no longer in the driveway. His mother is absent from the kitchen. He sighs in relief and heads for the stairs.


It's a picnic in their cave and Blaine can't bring himself to care about anything but Kurt's mouth. It has been teasing him: sucking on strawberries and eating grapes and drinking from a straw. Blaine moves everything aside and pushes Kurt down on the blanket. He doesn't utter a single word of complaint.


It's an afternoon in the sun and Kurt is complaining because he forgot his sunblock. Blaine watches him with a grin and sprays him with his watergun. “Laugh it up!” Kurt yells, hitting Blaine with a perfectly aimed sandal. “Look at me! I'm roasting and becoming increasingly coated in freckles the longer I'm out here with out my SPF seventy-five. And you!” Kurt motions to where Blaine is lounging in the sand, the sun warm on his skin. “You're all sun-kissed and glowy and I'm over here – covered in freckles and red like a lobster!”

Blaine grins again and slides his sunglasses down his nose. “I didn't know lobsters could get freckles.”

Kurt makes an unholy noise before launching himself at Blaine and tackling him, rolling them both over and over until they are coated in sand. Blaine takes over and then he's got Kurt under him, completely at his mercy. He looks around to be sure there is no one near before leaning down and capturing his lips, the sleek slide of sun-warmed flesh and the taste of salt overwhelming. Kurt moans a little and opens his mouth and Blaine is done for. Everything that follows is a blur of happiness and sun and gritty sand that he smilingly rinses away in the shower hours later.


It's the night before Kurt is leaving and Blaine knows that it's his last chance to say something. To say anything. To clarify what and when and how. But when Kurt brushes their lips together and kisses him so soft and sweet and rests his forehead against Blaine's, eyes closed and the most serene expression on his face, Blaine can't make himself say a word. This is enough, he thinks. He knows he is lying to himself; he tells that part of his mind to shut up. This is enough. Because at the moment it is everything. So it has to be, doesn't it?

They don't get a proper goodbye the next morning. Just a tight hug and sad smile and eyes that are watery and pained. Kurt kisses the palm of his hand and places it against the window. A goodbye that only Blaine will understand.

Blaine feels a tight fist of panic clench in his gut as he watches the car pull away, the palm of Kurt's pale hand still pressed against the window. It's too soon. It isn't fair. He has so many things that he hadn't the chance to say. Or the courage to ask.


The In-Between – Year Seven: Assorted texts, a letter and ignoring the obvious.

Sent 1:17PM
From: Kurt

The Spanish teacher has taken over the show choir! Creepy man got fired for being creepy. More news at 11. (Well, after school.)


Dear Kurt,

I hope everything is well with you! I've loved hearing the crazy tales of your new glee club. I'm so glad you and Mercedes have a good group to sing with, even with all of the drama they seem to bring with them. If your director doesn't give you a solo soon he is nuts! Your voice is the most unique and beautiful thing I have ever had the joy of hearing in my life.

In other news – my choir has decided to make me the front man this year. At first they asked me to audition for solos, but now they're just handing them to me without any work. I guess it's sort of unfair to the other guys, but they don't seem to care. And I have to admit, I'm having a lot of fun.

I know it's sort of weird to keep sending letters when we text all the time and IM and talk on the phone. I guess I just like having this tangible proof – this thing that is you and me. I can't really explain it. Humor me? There are so many things that I want to say, to talk about, but I'm too afraid sometimes. Those things come out better on paper, don't you think?

I miss you.




Sent 4:02PM
From Kurt

Rachel is INSANE. Quinn is PREGNANT. Finn Hudson is a moron who makes even Brittany look like a genius in comparison. I will discuss the deets later tonight if you're going to be around.


Sent 1:18PM
From Blaine

Kurt, God, we performed at a seniors' home today and a lady had a heart attack. She freaking DIED. I'm all shaky still. Why do I feel like I'm partly responsible? I was only singing for them. :(

Sent 1:23PM
From Kurt

It is no way your fault. Are you back at the school? Get on your computer and we can talk 'face to face'.


Sent 6:55PM
From Kurt

Something super weird happened today. Dad met Finn Hudson's mother at a parent get together at school, and now he's just left on a date with her. She seems very sweet but... WEIRD. Why are you not around to talk me through!


Sent 7:53AM
From Kurt

Dad bought me a car! Dad bought me a CAR! OMG! You have to see it. It's big and shiny and sleek and MINE. Holy freaking crap!

Sent 8:24AM
From Blaine

That's amazing, Kurt! I can't wait to see it. Happy Birthday! :)


Sent 7:22PM
From Blaine

It's nearly summer! I can't wait to see you. Two more days of class! :)


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whisperyvoiceswhisperyvoices on April 1st, 2013 07:40 am (UTC)

:) :) :) :)