Word Count: 3925
Warnings: Handjobs and Tears.
Summary: Kurt and Blaine have been best friends since their first day of college. Two years later, Blaine makes a confession.
A/N: For this prompt at GKM. Unbetaed, just something I wrote quickly. Title is from Jonny Lang's "Lie to Me."
“Ugh, you always pick the worst movies,” Kurt groaned, falling sideways so his forehead landed against Blaine’s thigh on the opposite end of the couch. “You’re lucky I love you or I would kick you out of this apartment.” He felt Blaine tense under him and struggled to turn over onto his back with as little effort as possible. When he looked up, Blaine’s eyebrows were furrowed, his jaw clenched but moving slightly, like he was grinding his teeth. Kurt reached blindly behind him to poke at Blaine’s ribs.
“Hey. What’d I say?” Blaine had been acting strangely all night, tense and jumpy and distracted, and usually by this point in mandatory roommate movie night Kurt would’ve been able to get him to talk, weasel out whatever was bothering him. He’d been quiet tonight, though, sitting further away on the couch than usual save for his arm limply extended between them and only offering one-word responses to Kurt’s questions despite how intently Kurt had seen him staring from the corner of his eye like he wanted to talk.
“Noth-- I just- gahhh,” Blaine groaned, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes before raking them back through his hair. “Ok. We need - I need - I have to tell you something.”
“Are you ok?” Kurt tried to sit up but was stopped by Blaine’s arm falling across his shoulders, keeping him on his back.
“I can’t do this if I can see you,” Blaine said. Kurt glanced up again and, sure enough, Blaine’s eyes were trained on the far wall. He was starting to worry - they’d met the first day of freshman year, assigned to adjacent dorm rooms and obnoxious roommates, and they’d always been disgustingly honest with each other, so Blaine’s sudden reticence was scary - but he waited in silence, letting Blaine gather his thoughts.
“Kurt,” Blaine started, taking a deep breath as his hand went automatically to Kurt’s hair. Kurt tried not to move too much even though he wanted to lean into the touch; he loved Friday movie nights, when he would inevitably end up with his head in Blaine’s lap, Blaine’s fingers carding soothingly through his hair. “You are my best friend. You have been my best friend for over two years now, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything in the world.” His voice was shaking despite the smooth tone of it, like he was reciting something he’d practiced but struggling. Kurt chanced to look up and saw that Blaine’s eyes were tightly closed.
“Blaine, what’s wr--”
“Just let me get through this,” Blaine asked, voice suddenly higher. Kurt nodded against his leg and he took another deep breath.
“I wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world,” Blaine repeated. “But Kurt, there is a moment that you say to yourself, ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever.’ The day we met was a moment for me. About you. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for months, I was going to do it the next time we go to karaoke but...we’re here, and you’re - you, you’re so you. And...” He trailed off at the same moment his hand stilled in Kurt’s hair.
“Blaine,” Kurt said again, his own hand coming up to grip Blaine’s forearm where it rested on his chest. He tried to lace his voice with...something. Warning, maybe, or pleading. Don’t do this, please don’t do this. But it was like standing in the path of a freight train.
“I’m in love with you.”
Kurt sat up immediately, upsetting Blaine’s arm and turning to face him. He folded his legs under him so his knees were pressed to the side of Blaine’s legs and folded his hands together in his lap.
“I’m sure it isn’t a surprise,” Blaine laughed hollowly. “God, Santana tells me every day how obvious I am.”
“Everyone knows,” Blaine shrugged. “Everyone thinks that we...I didn’t say that we were, of course not, they just...San called it the world’s most useless game of cat and mouse.” Blaine was slowly hunching in on himself, knees raising as his arms circled around them, voice getting shakier the longer the conversation continued, and when he spoke again it was in a whisper. “Did you...did you really not know?”
“Blaine,” Kurt said again, wishing he could think of anything else to say. “I didn’t - no - I should go.” He stood up quickly, patting his pockets for his keys. Nevermind the fact that this was his apartment, too; he needed to get some air, try to clear his head before he accidentally said something he didn’t mean, or worse, something he did mean.
“Kurt,” Blaine yelped, scrambling to his feet, too. “Kurt, no. I just had to tell you. I didn’t - Nevermind! It’s stupid. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“It’s not stupid,” Kurt said gently, settling his hands on Blaine’s shoulders. “And we do have to talk about it. I’m just - very surprised. You’re my best friend, Blaine; I just need some air. And some - some time. Is that ok?”
“Of course,” Blaine nodded. “Just - don’t be mad.” His voice was so small that Kurt couldn’t resist using his grip on Blaine’s shoulders to pull him into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around Blaine’s back.
“I would never, ever be mad,” he whispered into Blaine’s hair, squeezing him tighter and closing his eyes when Blaine returned the pressure. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Kurt needed more air than he thought, apparently, because Blaine was asleep on the couch when he returned. The lights were still on in the living room, the dvd logo bouncing around the screen from the movie they’d abandoned when Blaine...
Had told him he was in love with him.
He’d walked most of the campus, playing Blaine’s speech over and over in his mind. It was a lovely speech, beautiful words from a great guy. He should’ve been overjoyed.
Blaine was...he was Blaine, sweet, smart, funny Blaine. Blaine, who walked into walls as he struggled to wake up each morning. Who wore bow ties with everything and used too much gel and had broken a table in the lounge of their freshman dorm while dancing on it to break up the monotony of an all-nighter. Who brought Kurt coffee when he was locked in the library and held him when he was hit by a wave of homesickness.
His best friend.
It was terrifying, the amount of power Blaine put in his hands with his confession. He’d liked Kurt since the day they met? He’d been planning how to tell him for months? He’d never gotten to observe Blaine crushing on someone (which made sense, now) but he knew Blaine well enough to know he didn’t do anything by halves. Blaine was in deep.
And he wanted, more than anything, to give him that; to give him everything he wanted and deserved. To wrap him up and kiss him breathless and make him feel as happy and beautiful and loved as he should always feel.
After his father, Blaine was, without a doubt, the most important person in his life. He’d always thought he was attractive - you’d have to be blind not to see how gorgeous Blaine was - but he’d so quickly ingrained himself into Kurt’s life and become an essential presence that Kurt hadn’t dared to think of him that way.
And now he...couldn’t.
Kurt pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against, suddenly aware that he was watching Blaine sleep and that it was really kind of creepy. He didn’t want to wake Blaine up; he looked peaceful, and, more selfishly, Kurt wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
He pulled the throw off the back of the couch and draped it over Blaine’s body, trying to ignore the sighed “Kurt” he heard as he slipped into his bedroom.
It was simple not to talk about it. He’d asked Blaine for space and Blaine always gave Kurt anything he asked for. Blaine was more hesitant as they moved around each other in the apartment, watching him quietly and clearly waiting for Kurt to broach the subject, but as long as Kurt ignored it, Blaine did too. Every night, they made dinner together and watched tv together and everything was fine.
Until it wasn’t.
On Wednesday evening, they had to go to a film screening for a cinema class they were taking together for humanities credits. They’d gone to the movies together dozens of times, leaning into each other’s spaces to analyze moments or offer comfort during sad scenes or simply to share warmth in the perpetual chill of the theater. But now Kurt sat perfectly straight in his chair, arms tucked along his sides, eyes darting between the screen and Blaine’s knee, or more specifically, the hand resting palm-up on his knee. The hand that was taunting him.
Suddenly he thought of every time they’d sat like this, in a theater or on the couch or sprawled on the floor amongst their friends; how Blaine would always be turned toward him, arm supposedly casually extended, just within Kurt’s reach. Waiting for Kurt to take his hand.
Kurt crossed his arms across his stomach, tucking his hands safely between his biceps and ribs, and stared at the screen.
He was almost to his bedroom when Blaine’s quiet voice broke the once but no longer comfortable silence between them.
“Are we ever going to talk about this?”
“I can’t, Blaine,” Kurt sighed, turning around to lean back against his door. “I thought about it - a lot - and I just don’t. Feel that way. I’m sorry, Blaine, I tr--”
“Don’t,” Blaine interrupted, eyes trained on his feet. Kurt wished he would just look up at Kurt, let him see his eyes.
“We can still be friends, right? I can’t lose you, you’re too important to me. Please, Blaine, promise me--”
“Of course,” Blaine nodded to the floor, then disappeared quickly through his own bedroom door.
It was very, very easy to go through a day without talking to Blaine. It was also the most difficult thing Kurt had ever done.
It wasn’t his choice; Blaine had nodded to him Thursday morning as he buttered his toast, but that was the last time they’d interacted in any way. Blaine had gotten home late each evening and left early in the morning, only staying in the common areas of the apartment long enough to pass to his room, which he kept locked. He walked into their one shared class at right as the professor began and slipped into a seat across the lecture hall from Kurt, disappearing at the end of class before Kurt had even put his pen away.
Kurt had tried getting up early and staying up late, only to be passed without a second glance. He’d texted Blaine during the day and left him notes asking mundane apartment-related questions. He’d made Blaine’s favorite cookies, and eaten most of them himself when he found the untouched plate the next day.
By Monday he was at his wit’s end. Blaine was out, as usual, despite the fact that it was going on eleven and he had an early class. Kurt wasn’t proud of his actions, but every day that they didn’t talk Blaine was slipping away, and Kurt couldn’t lose him. So he dug through the coat closet until he found a small pry bar and the hammer in the tool box.
Blaine let out a startled “ah!” when he walked into his bedroom and Kurt was sitting on his bed, mindlessly twirling the pry bar between his fingers. His face hardened quickly and he had spun on his heel to walk back out before Kurt spoke.
“Blaine! Don’t leave. Please.” Blaine froze but didn’t turn back around, and Kurt tried to sound stronger than he felt. “You promised, Blaine. You can’t do this to me.”
“I can’t do this to you?!” Blaine yelled, turning again to face Kurt with wide, blazing eyes. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to ME?” He took a step into the room and began pacing in the small space at the foot of his bed. “I tell you I’m in love with you and have been for years while you’ve been willfully obtuse and all you tell me is, ‘you can’t,’ but suddenly I’m the bad guy. How do you even know, Kurt?”
“You’ve never even tried! And it’s all i can think about, Kurt, just what it would be like if you would kiss me or t-touch me. And I’ve been trying to stay away from you so it will just go away but it’s not. Blaine’s voice had been pitching steadily higher and finally broke on the last word, eyes filling with tears. Kurt was standing before he remembered making the choice. He stepped into Blaine’s path, wrapping his arms around him like he hadn’t since this whole mess had started.
Blaine inhaled sharply at the contact, his exhale coming out as a sob as he gripped Kurt’s waist and crumpled into his embrace. Kurt could feel his neck growing wet where Blaine had buried his face, and Kurt rubbed soft circles into his back and murmured nonsense into his hair as Blaine’s shoulders heaved with the force of his tears.
“I’m trying,” Blaine said between gasps. “I’m trying to get over it but I-I-I can’t just stop loving you, I can’t stop wanting you and I’m gonna lose you if I--”
“Shh, honey,” Kurt murmured into Blaine’s hair, one arm tight around his back and the other hand still stroking between his shoulder blades and down his spine. “Breathe, Blaine.” He needed to get Blaine calmed down before they dealt with anything else, but his friend was only getting more and more hysterical, turning redder as he hiccuped and sobbed into Kurt’s shirt. Kurt pulled him back by the shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes and keeping him in place with one hand firmly cupping his cheek.
“You’re not going to lose me, Blaine,” Kurt said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, not if I have any say in it, ok?” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Blaine’s forehead, regretting it the moment he felt Blaine freeze against him.
“I’m sorry,” Kurt said immediately. “I shouldn’t have--” he tried to pull away but Blaine’s hands tightened on his waist, sliding to clasp at the small of his back.
“Please,” Blaine whispered into Kurt’s neck. “Please. Maybe if we - if I just - maybe it will get it out of my system. I don’t know what else--”
“We can’t,” Kurt argued, his own voice as desperate as Blaine’s. This was a line they couldn’t - he couldn’t - cross. Things were difficult right now, but there was hope. It would be awkward for a while but they were strong and they would fix it. But if Kurt let things go any further tonight? They wouldn’t come back from that.
But Blaine was still nuzzling into his neck, nose running back and forth along his pulse and begging into his skin, and Kurt couldn’t bear it anymore. Blaine never asked him for anything, and the one time he did it was something Kurt couldn’t provide. But he could do this for Blaine, could give him something close to what he wanted, even if they both knew it was nothing but a pantomime. He pulled back just enough to press his lips to Blaine’s temple.
He was on his knees before Blaine registered the assent and he looked down at Kurt with wide, surprised eyes. Kurt popped the button on his jeans and had the zipper halfway down before Blaine covered his hands, stilling them.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Let me do this for you,” Kurt mumbled, pressing his lips to the warm skin of Blaine’s hip. Blaine slid his hands down Kurt’s arms, tugging once he reached his biceps until Kurt was standing, confused, in front of him. Blaine turned them both and sat heavily on the mattress, pulling himself up to the pillows and holding out a shaking hand for Kurt.
“Okay.” Blaine’s jaw was set again and his eyes had dimmed in defeat, something that shook Kurt to the core every time he saw it.
Kurt took his offered hand, settling with his knees bracketing Blaine’s thighs and ducking his head again, nudging the hem of Blaine’s sweater up just enough to brush his lips under his belly button, but before he could continue he was being pulled again by their joined hands.
“Up here,” Blaine asked. “Stay with me. Please.” Kurt nodded, trying his best to smile as he slid his free hand down Blaine’s stomach back to his waistband, resting his fingers against the zipper again.
“I’m here. I’ve got you,” Kurt said quietly. He propped himself up on one elbow, ducking his head to keep his lips close to Blaine’s ear as he pulled the zipper the rest of the way down. Blaine’s next breath was strangled and Kurt could feel him hardening under his palm. He squeezed the growing bulge gently, shaping his hand around the unmistakable shape of Blaine’s dick - god, he couldn’t think about the fact that this was Blaine, not right now - and stroking up the length a few times before removing his hand completely.
“Shh, shh,” he cooed at Blaine’s cry of protest. “Lift up.” Blaine lifted his hips when Kurt tapped them and Kurt pushed his briefs and jeans down just enough for easy access, ignoring the way Blaine’s dick, already hard and flushed, bobbed against his stomach. He tried to roll away to dig through Blaine’s nightstand for the lube he knew was there, but Blaine balled a hand in his shirt and kept him in place, so Kurt lifted his own hand to his mouth and closed his eyes, laving wetly over and between his fingers and down across his palm.
The first touch to Blaine’s bare cock made Blaine jerk in his arms, whining high in the back of his throat and immediately thrusting into Kurt’s still loose grip.
“S-sorry,” Blaine stuttered, hand on Kurt’s shirt clenching as his hips stilled.
“It’s ok. Do what feels good, honey; this is about you.” Kurt tightened his grip, twisting his wrist at the base and then again just under the head. He swiped his thumb over the head, collecting the small bead of precome that had gathered and using it to help the slide back down, doing it again when he heard how it made Blaine’s breath hitch.
“Want you so bad,” Blaine muttered, mouthing absently at Kurt’s neck. Kurt knew he should tell him to stop, that that wasn’t what this was about - that was why he had wanted to blow Blaine, just make him feel better and fix this and go back to how things were - but it seemed to ground Blaine and the contact helped him focus on his goal.
He finally looked down, watching the swollen head of Blaine’s cock appear and disappear in the tight ring of his fist over and over again. Blaine was whimpering steadily below him now, mouth open and mostly still over Kurt’s jaw as he panted out sharp breaths. His hips finally started moving again, knees bending a little as he planted his feet against the mattress and he began to thrust into Kurt’s hand.
Where Kurt didn’t want to look at his dick in the beginning, felt like it was too intimate, it was the only place he could focus now, the only place that felt safe. He admittedly hadn’t seen (or touched) many cocks besides his own, but there had been a few, and Blaine’s was undeniably nice. A little thicker than Kurt’s, with a rather prominent vein that made Blaine shudder when Kurt traced it with his thumb. He would’ve happily spent an afternoon exploring, under different circumstances. Better circumstances.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Kurt encouraged, shaking himself out of his thoughts and slowing his speed as he tightened his grip, the way it seemed Blaine liked best.
“Kiss me,” Blaine gasped. Kurt turned his head quickly, keeping his eyes closed and fluttering kisses over Blaine’s forehead, his cheeks, down his jaw to his neck. Blaine kept trying to turn his head into them, to capture Kurt’s lips, but Kurt evaded him every time, distracting him with a well-placed scrape of teeth. He sucked a hard kiss into the soft skin just below Blaine’s ear at the same time he palmed the head of Blaine’s cock, rubbing his thumb along the slit, and Blaine keened, gripping Kurt’s shoulder.
“C-close, Kurt, Kurt I’m so close, I love you, love you loveyou,” Blaine started babbling, his hips moving in earnest now. “Tell me, Kurt - please--”
“I - Blaine I--”
“I know you don’t,” Blaine interrupted, voice calmer even though his hips and Kurt’s hand were only picking up speed. “Just - please--” His voice cracked again and Kurt finally looked up and locked eyes with Blaine. His pupils were dilated, eyes going unfocused as he stared up at Kurt. His hairline and upper lip were beaded with sweat and his mouth was moving, though no sounds came out.
“I love you,” Kurt said quietly.
With two more rough pulls, Blaine was coming, hips arching off the bed as he spilled over Kurt’s fist and onto his own stomach. Kurt stroked him through it, brushing his lips over Blaine’s forehead again before repeating his earlier pattern and peppering his face with kisses. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “You’re beautiful, I love you, I love you.” He wasn’t lying. He did love Blaine, more than anything.
Just not in the way Blaine needed.
He didn’t stop pumping until Blaine batted weakly at his arm, hissing with oversensitivity and looking hopefully up into Kurt’s eyes as he tugged at his bent arm. Kurt knew what Blaine wanted without asking - he always did - and lowered himself to the mattress, pulling Blaine into his side and letting him cuddle into his chest, wiping his hand on the blanket but otherwise mindless of the mess. Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt’s waist, thumb sliding just under the hem of his t-shirt, as Kurt moved the arm around Blaine’s back to cup his hip, stroking softly at the still exposed skin.
He would hold Blaine until he came down from his orgasm, and then he would get up and go to his own room, where he would likely not sleep. Tomorrow they would talk - hopefully they would talk, now that Blaine’s cold war seemed to be over - and they would figure out how to fix this. They had to fix this.
“I’m sorry,” Blaine whispered after a few minutes of silence. Kurt could feel a fresh wave of tears slowly soaking into the fabric of his shirt, just over his heart. He was grateful his own tears fell unnoticed into the pillow. He squeezed Blaine’s hip and took a deep breath when Blaine squeezed his waist in return, willing enough strength into his voice to speak.
“So am I.”