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wowbright · 4 years

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Can’t You See

Summary: Blaine is trying not to be homophobic. But he’s really uncomfortable with how much this new guy is hitting on Elder Hummel. (Clueless, not-out-to-himself-yet Blaine.)

Words: ~3600

Challenge: For the Klaine/CC Valentine's Challenge. The title is taken from the Day Two prompt song, I Only Want to Be With You by Dusty Springfield/Bay City Rollers.

Notes: This story takes place in the Mormon!Klaine verse. Kurt and Blaine are missionaries in Germany, and they’re teaching a guy they met at a sheet music shop about their church. The guy’s name is Chandler Kiehl (yes, that one, but German). See the Mormon!Klaine Master Post for more info.

Rating: Teen and up

They sat at the kitchen table, going over their planning for the upcoming week. Elder Hummel had the binder open to the section where they kept notes about the people they were teaching about the church. The planning had gone smoothly so far—but didn’t it always? Blaine usually agreed with anything Elder Hummel wanted to do. His senior companion was a good missionary, and Blaine respected his instincts. Plus, he’d known most of these investigators longer than Blaine had, so he had a better sense of what they needed to hear or the kind of help they needed to push them gently in the right direction.

“Okay. So we'll ask Doro and Stefan to commit to coming to the Easter service,” Elder Hummel said. “And we’ll explain to them what to expect. I think Doro will like the simplicity of it, but with Stefan having trained to be a Catholic priest, he might be a little culture-shocked if we don’t explain all the whys and hows to him first. Is there anything else you think we should think about with them?”

“No. I think that’s good. They’ve been investigating for months and still haven't come to a service. They won't really understand it until they experience a sacrament meeting.” Blaine wrote Invite to Easter service and explain how different from Catholic on a blank line toward the bottom of Stefan and Doro’s most recent page. The couple had several pages of notes already. Blaine would need to add another if they didn't get baptized soon.

“Okay. Who’s next?” Elder Hummel leaned in and peered over Blaine’s shoulder. Usually it would annoy Blaine for somebody to read over his shoulder, but with Elder Hummel it felt reassuring instead of irritating. Elder Hummel was generally so careful about preserving his personal space, so when he forgot about it and crossed into Blaine's, it made Blaine feel like he was someone special, someone Elder Hummel had decided to trust.

Blaine flipped the page to the next investigator. Oh. He'd really wanted to avoid this one, so much so that he’d tricked himself into forgetting about it until this very moment. “Chandler Kiehl,” he said, trying to tamp down the bile that was rising in his throat.

“Oh, fun!” said Elder Hummel. “He's such a sweetheart.”

That's because he's into you, Blaine thought, but didn't say. Instead, he said, “He’s friendly,” because it was true, even if Chandler clearly had ulterior motives.

“Isn't he, though? Much warmer than most of the Germans I've met. I suppose he's excited to know some Americans. And we give him something to do since he's out of school right now.”

“Yeah. But he doesn't seem that interested in the church,” Blaine said.

Elder Hummel pursed his lips in thought. “I don't know. He asked a lot of questions in our last lesson.”

“Because he was being friendly.”

“It wasn't just that. He had some really astute questions about Joseph Smith and what it meant to have a restoration, about the different prophets that have led the church…"

Oh, yeah, Blaine remembered. Chandler had asked about eight million questions, all directed at Elder Hummel, always with his eyes wide and focused on Elder Hummel’s face, with lots of interested nodding and follow-up about Elder Hummel’s personal beliefs and Also, by the way, where were you from again, Elder Hummel—Ohio? How interesting. That’s not too far from Upstate New York where Joseph Smith had his visions, was it? Oh, the church built its first temple in Ohio? No wonder you feel so connected to this story. This Joseph Smith sounds fascinating. It's a little jarring for me to think about prophets living in the modern day, but if they lived in the past, why shouldn't they live now? I suppose in English you could say, ‘One always profits from listening to a prophet.’ Do you have a favorite prophet, Elder Hummel? A favorite teaching? A favorite hymn? Oh, I’m not familiar with it. Maybe you could teach me. Your voice stimulates happiness in me! (Except the last sentence was even worse because the word for voice was “Stimme” and the word Chandler used for “stimulate” was “stimuliert,” so it was another stupid pun, just like “prophet” and “profit.” Like, a really, really stupid pun because no one uses “stimuliert” that way. But Elder Hummel, who should have rolled his eyes at how forced it was, actually giggled as he tried to brush away the compliment with something about Chandler needing to come to church if he wanted to hear hymns, and then Chandler not letting it drop by saying that Elder Hummel sang in the sheet music store, and then Elder Hummel eyeing Blaine as if to ask Whaddya think? Should we sing something? And Blaine had to give Elder Hummel a death glare because apparently he was the only person in the room not completely overcome by their hormones.)

“… so if he shows up to church this week and likes it, I was thinking we could invite him to participate in the Easter choir.”

Blaine jolted back to the present. Had Elder Hummel really just said what Blaine thought he did? Certainly he wouldn’t think of asking a non-member to sing in the choir. That was like letting a five-year-old pass the sacrament. Blaine must have misunderstood. “I’m sorry. I’m not following.”

Elder Hummel gave Blaine a sympathetic look. “Do you need a break? You seem a little distracted. Maybe you're tired?”

“No. I mean, yes, my mind wandered off for a second there. But I’m not tired.”

“I’m just boring you that much, huh?” Elder Hummel wiggled his eyebrows in the teasing way that always made Blaine’s insides get the same kind of whirly-squirrely they’d gotten when his show choir won the state trophy his senior year.

“No. It’s just …” Blaine considered. Did he have to say this? President Steele said it was important to be honest with your companion, but at the same time one must also be kind. On the one hand, if an investigator didn’t seem sincere, Blaine should speak up so they didn't waste their time. On the other hand, Blaine wasn’t sure he could speak without letting his distaste for Chandler leak out.

Chandler really bothered Blaine. And the fact that Blaine was bothered by it made him feel even worse. Because Blaine wasn’t uncomfortable because of Chandler’s his insincerity. Blaine had taught plenty of investigators who only wanted to practice their English or have an interesting conversation about faith or just mess with some naïve religionists from the United States, and he’d loved them all. He enjoyed getting to know people, even when it didn't lead anywhere.

Blaine was uncomfortable because the only reason Chandler asked for lessons was so he could to hit on Elder Hummel the entire time.

And maybe that meant Blaine was homophobic. Blaine thought he was okay with Elder Hummel being gay, but Chandler trying to flirt sent Blaine into a minor fury. And looking back, this wasn't the first time he’d had issues with gay people being gay. In high school, he’d certainly always felt weird about Sebastian checking him out.

“Elder Anderson, Earth to Elder Anderson, come in Elder Anderson.”

“I'm here.”

“You're awfully quiet,” Elder Hummel said. “Which either means you are tired, or there's something bothering you and you need to say it.”

Blaine sighed. Usually he loved how well Elder Hummel understood him. But right now, it was inconvenient. “I only want to say things that are true, necessary, and kind.”

“I take it you have something to say about Chandler that you don't think meets all three of those criteria?”

“I think …” How could Blaine put this? “I think he's interested in making friends. I don't think he's interested in the Gospel. His questions about the church were intellectual curiosity at best.”

“That's where it starts for a lot of investigators, though. There are things they've never been able to figure out, and they're looking for answers. Some people put it in more spiritual language, and some people put it other ways.”

“Yes, but … But most of his questions weren't about the church, not really.”

“What? You mean they were about faith generally.”

“No. I mean they were about you.”

Elder Hummel frowned. “I don’t remember it that way.”

“Then you weren’t paying attention, because he asked you about where you were from and your favorite prophets and your favorite scriptures and your favorite hymns—”

“Except for asking me where I’m from—which most investigators ask, by the way—those are all Gospel questions.”

“Oh, really?” Blaine said, and maybe it came out a little sarcastic, but Elder Hummel was one of the sharpest people Blaine had ever met. He seriously could not be that opaque. “Then why didn’t he ask me the same things?”

Elder Hummel gave him a long, penetrating look. Blaine felt like a beetle under a magnifying glass. “You don't have any idea?”

Of course Blaine had an idea. But he didn't want to say it. He wanted Elder Hummel to. Then Blaine wouldn’t look like such a jerk. “No.”

Elder Hummel sighed. “I wasn't going to say anything about this until companionship inventory, but you were pretty much a porcupine in that entire lesson.”

“I was not!”

“Yes, you were. You barely engaged with him. Every time he looked at you, you looked like you were trying to bore holes through his forehead with the power of your gaze. I don't know what was going on with you that afternoon, whether you just weren't feeling well or you've decided to write off Chandler for some random reason, but your behavior was bordering on inappropriate.”

No. Absolutely not. If anyone in this companionship was a porcupine, it was Elder Hummel, not Blaine. And inappropriate? “I'll tell you who was inappropriate.”

“Oh?” Talk about laser beam eyes. Elder Hummel had them, and they were shooting right at Blaine. “Who would that be?”

“Chandler, of course! With his puns and his comments on your clothes and your voice and, and—” Blaine tried to come up with more offenses to add to the list, but he drew a blank. Still, it was obvious. Blaine didn’t have a lot of experience with gay people, had never been close friends with one, but it was obvious even to him. It had to be obvious to Elder Hummel. “Oh my gosh, Elder Hummel. Can’t you see? Chandler Kiehl is into you.”

Elder Hummel’s expression went from daggers to face-on-fire in zero seconds flat. “No, he’s not. He’s just being nice.”

“He’s flirting with you.”

“We don’t even know that he’s gay.”

He’s got to announce it before we can interpret a come on as a come on?”

The red on Elder Hummel’s face intensified to purple. “Is that what the problem is? You’re okay with me being gay, but the idea of someone being interested in me grosses you out?”

Elder Hummel didn't just mean Blaine was grossed out by the flirting, did he? He meant that Blaine was grossed out by who Elder Hummel was, by what he wanted—kissing and stuff. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair to you? Funny. Because I was just thinking how it wasn't fair that I have to deal with yet another homophobic Mormon.” Elder Hummel was yelling. He was yelling and his face was all sharp angles and—

“It’s not— It’s not—” Ugh. Blaine hated that Elder Hummel was so much quicker than him, so much faster at assessing the situation and drawing a conclusion, so much better at slamming words together into a form that made sense. But maybe Elder Hummel was right. Maybe he was homophobic, at least a little. Maybe the idea of two guys kissing grossed him out. After all, he’d never been able to imagine himself kissing any of the handful of gay guys he’d known in high school. But then again, he'd often seen the one gay couple in his theater group sneak little kisses to each other backstage when they thought no one else was looking, and it hadn't bothered him at all. Blaine thought it was sweet. Romantic. If there was anything negative associated with it, it was the little pang he felt in his heart because he'd never loved anyone that way. “I don’t think that’s it, Elder Hummel.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s— it's against the rules. We shouldn't let investigators flirt with us. Guys or girls.”

“Says the guy who lets every single female investigator and shop clerk and half the branch flirt with him.”

“Wait, what?”

“They're constantly commenting on your hair and your good manners and your smile and your—”

“They're just being nice.”

“Then Chandler's just being nice.”

“Okay, wait—” Blaine needed a second to think. Because there was no way that Chandler was “just being nice.” And … if Blaine thought about it, a lot of women were nice to Blaine in a way that was awfully similar to how Chandler was nice to Kurt. Blaine never thought of it as flirting, because obviously he wasn't interested in any of these people, because some of them were older and some of them were younger and a lot of them weren’t members, and also because Blaine was on his mission and he wasn't supposed to be interested in them. He’d locked his heart like a good Mormon missionary. But it was awfully flattering when people said nice things about him, and he wanted to make them feel good in return, and so he said nice things back, and— “Have I been flirting back?”

Elder Hummel's face was still sort of pinkish, but the fury of it was washing away. In fact, he looked rather amused. “A little. But I think that's just your personality.”

Blaine leaned forward against the table, covering his face with his hands. “I'm so embarrassed.”

He felt Elder Hummel’s hand on his back, softly rubbing the little spot between his spine and shoulder blade. “You don't need to be. It’s not a sin to be friendly.”

“Yeah, but … that must be so irritating. I mean, if the way that Chandler flirts with you bothers me—and it really shouldn't bother me because I know you would never do anything about it on your mission, and if you did anything about it after your mission that's totally your decision to make.”

“I'm not going to run off with Chandler Kiehl. Ever. He’s nice, or at least I think so, but—”

“You don't have to make promises like that to me. I know what the church teaches, but I also know you're a good person. I want you to be happy, whatever direction that takes you.” Blaine still had his hands in his face, his eyes closed. He was feeling less embarrassed now, but the darkness helped him feel calmer, helped him focus on the soothing brush of Elder Hummel's hand against his back.

“What I was going to say is, I'm not interested in him that way. He's not my type.”

“What is your type?”

Elder Hummel didn't answer. He kept rubbing Blaine's back. Blaine could feel Elder Hummel’s face hovering close, his warm breath rustling against the back of his shoulder. “Elder Anderson?”

“Yes.”

“I knew Chandler was flirting with me.”

“Wait. You did?” Blaine opened his eyes and turned to face his companion.

Elder Hummel dropped his hand from Blaine's back. He looked meekly down at the table. “Yes. And I was just hoping you wouldn't notice because ... honestly? I enjoy it.”

“So you are interested in him?”

Elder Hummel shook his head. “It's just, I’ve literally never had anybody flirt with me in my entire life. I mean, not any boys. The closest any guy ever came to showing any interest in me was when a football player assaulted me in the locker room—”

“Wait. He what?” Blaine had heard about people seeing red when they were angry before, but he’d never experienced it. Now, a hundred pinpricks of red and pink prickled at the edge of his vision in time with the blood pounding in his ears.

“I’m— Oh.” Elder Hummel put his hand on Blaine's forearm, watched it as he soothed the hairs there with his thumb. “It's okay. He didn't hurt me. Not physically. He just—well, not just, but—he kissed me. We were arguing about something and I thought he was going to punch me in the face, but instead he grabbed me and kissed me. A lot. And I just, I went limp for a minute because I couldn't process what was happening. But it all turned out fine.” He glanced up at Blaine and forced a mischievous smile. “Because I kneed him in the balls and ran.”

Blaine’s heart sank. “You don’t have to make jokes to try to lighten things, Elder Hummel. That's horrible, and I'm so sorry that happened to you.”

Elder Hummel shrugged. “I wasn't making the joke for your sake. I was making it for mine. It's not easy to talk about. It’s actually—” He seemed to notice that his hand was still on Blaine's arm and pulled it back into his lap. “It's actually the first time I've told anybody.”

Blaine felt this weird mixture of sadness, anger, and relief—sadness and anger for what Elder Hummel had been through all alone, relief that he would trust Blaine with something this painful even after Blaine had been such a jerk about the Chandler stuff. He reached for Elder Hummel’s hand, and Elder Hummel let him take it, turning his palm up to meet Blaine's.

“So, yeah. It just feels nice to have a guy express nonthreatening interest in me. I know I should put the kibosh on it. It’s inappropriate and will give him the wrong idea about the church and—”

“No,” Blaine forced himself to say. Apparently he’d been flirting with women his entire mission. It wasn’t fair to hold Elder Hummel to a double standard that denied him not only the chance to flirt, but to be flirted with. “It feels nice to be appreciated. And you deserve to be appreciated, Elder Hummel. You’re an incredible man.” Blaine tried to meet his companion’s eyes, but had to settle for looking at them, because of course Elder Hummel had to look away from compliments. Blaine wished he’d learn to accept them, but he wasn’t going to be cruel about it. He squeezed Elder Hummel’s hand to release the tension. “I mean, if he starts talking about your butt, we’ll have to put him in line, but otherwise—”

“My butt?” Elder Hummel’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah. If he compliments you on your gorgeous azure eyes, he's still within the boundaries of good taste. But if he goes below the belt with his compliments—”

“Okay. Stop. Stop. I really don't want to think about Chandler Kiehl making flirty puns about my butt. I mean, I can’t even think what they would involve. What sounds like Arsch? Or Po?”

Blaine mulled it over, pulling up every word he could think of that started with po—. There were only three, but that was enough. “Dein Po ist so alarmierend poppig, dass ich die Polizei rufen muss.” Blaine could totally beat Chandler at his own stupid game.

Elder Hummel quirked an eyebrow. “My butt is so alarmingly tacky—”

“No, bright!”

“My butt is so alarmingly bright that you need to call the police?”

“Exactly.”

Elder Hummel stifled a laugh. “I think Chandler could do better than that.”

“Okay. But what about this? Ich halte einen Marsch, zu feiern um deinen Arsch.”

Elder Hummel’s laugh bubbled into a snort. “That’s not even grammatical.”

Blaine made a concerted effort to keep a straight face. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Holding a march to celebrate my ass?”

Blaine had to give up. Elder Hummel wouldn't stop laughing, and so Blaine had to start laughing, and then Elder Hummel laughed harder, a full-hearted laugh that made his face crinkle and tears stream out the corners of his eyes, and Blaine lost it, and pretty soon they were both doubled over and holding their sides and begging each other to stop making terrible German puns for the sake of all that is good and holy, and also for their stomach muscles.

“You,” Elder Hummel said later, as they were getting ready for bed, “are not a terrible companion.”

Blaine looked up from the towel he was hanging back over the bathroom rack. The expression on Elder Hummel’s face was affectionate, filled with light. It made Blaine’s heart swell. This was what having a best friend was like, wasn't it? You didn't always see eye to eye on everything, but you understood each other, and you loved each other through the misunderstandings. “I'm so sorry about the Chandler stuff earlier. You know I love you no matter what, right?”

Elder Hummel flushed pink, but his smile grew bigger, and that’s what mattered. “I know, Elder Anderson.” And then, looking down at the floor—and Blaine knew not to take it personally, or worry about it, because that's just how Elder Hummel was—he added, “I love you too.”

#klaine #klaineccvalentines2021 #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #mormon!klaine #my fic #my klaine valentines 2021

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gleefulpoppet · 4 years

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Blackbird Body Art

AU. Kurt owns one of the most sought after body art shops in all of New York. Blaine is celebrating a fresh start and wants to mark the occasion in ink. After two months of waiting for an opening and weeks of searching for the perfect design, he has an appointment at 11 AM. The only problem? New York is having what is being hailed as “The Great Deluge,” it hasn��t rained this much in recorded history.

You can read it on AO3 [HERE].

♥My contribution to the KlaineCCFanficLibrary Valentine’s Day Challenge! ♥

#KlaineCCValentines2021 #klaine #gleefulpoppet writes #blackbird body art #klaine fanfic #klainefanfiction #bba gleefulpoppet

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grlnxtdr30 · 4 years

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Telegram For Mr. Hummel

Day 13 of @klaineccfanficlibrary‘s Valentine’s Challenge. The prompt is Peter Cetera’s Glory of Love.

Telegram For Mr. Hummel

Blaine glared at his boss, who also happened to be his roommate and best friend.

“Sam, really? How am I supposed to get around town in this getup?”

Sam just smiled. He’d come up with the idea of starting a singing telegram business to help him and some of his friends earn money to help out with living expenses while they put themselves through college.

“It was the client’s special request, along with the song choice.” The blonde man put his hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Come on, dude, it’s for a friend of Mercedes’, and she specifically requested you. Something about your chivalrous nature and your Troy Donahue looks.”

Blaine sighed. “Fine, but I still don’t know how I am supposed to get there in this outfit. It wouldn’t be so bad walking through the theater district, people would just think it’s a publicity stunt for one of the shows, but Bushwick? That’s three subway trains and a two block walk from here.”

Sam shook his head. “Mike has you covered. His uncle is going to let him borrow the delivery van from the restaurant. He’ll drive you there and back. He just has to have the van back before five, so you need to hurry and get going so you’ll make it on time.”

Blaine just shook his head and heaved a long suffering sigh. “Fine, let’s go.”

…

“You three are being awfully suspicious,” Kurt said to his two roommates and his best friend. “What’s going on?”

“How are we acting suspicious?” Mercedes said, calmly taking a sip of her coffee, as Rachel tidied up the pillows on the couch, and Santana pretended to read a magazine.

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s start with the fact that you just ate two of Rachel’s vegan chocolate chip oatmeal raisin cookies without complaint. And the fact that Rachel is actually cleaning. And Santana, that magazine is not only three months out of date, it’s upside down. So again I ask, what is going on?”

Before any of them could answer, there was a knock on the door.

“It’s for you!” three voices said in unison.

Kurt frowned. “And just how do you know that?”

“Lucky guess,” Rachel said, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the door. He glared at her.

“This had better not be another one of your lame brained…”

Before he could finish, the knock sounded again. Rolling his eyes, he reached out and slid the loft door open to reveal...A knight in shining armor?”

“Telegram for Kurt Hummel,” came a voice from within the helmet that hid the person’s face. The knight passed a mini boombox to Rachel, and turned it on. A familiar song began to play.

Tonight it's very clear

'Cause we're both lying here

There's so many things I wanna say

I will always love you

I would never leave you alone

Sometimes I just forget

Say things I might regret

It breaks my heart to see you crying

I don't wanna lose you

I could never make it alone

Kurt had to admit the guy had an amazing voice, and wondered what he looked like under all that metal.

I am a man who will fight for your honor

I'll be the hero you're dreaming of

We'll live forever

Knowing together

That we did it all for the glory of love

You keep me standing tall

You help me through it all

I'm always strong when you're beside me

I have always needed you

I could never make it alone

I am a man who will fight for your honor

I'll be the hero

You've been dreaming of

We'll live forever

Knowing together that we did it all

For the glory of love

It's like a knight in shining armor

From a long time ago

Just in time I will save the day

Take you to my castle far away

I am a man who will fight for your honor

I'll be the hero that you're dreaming of

We're gonna live forever

Knowing together

That we did it all for the glory of love

We'll live forever

Knowing together

That we did it all for the glory of love

We did it all for love

…

When the door opened, Blaine almost forgot to breathe. The guy standing there was gorgeous. He had to remind himself he was just there to sing for the guy, who was probably already taken, considering the song he was about to sing. Sam said that it had been a friend of Mercedes’ who had hired them, so it had to be this guy’s boyfriend. Or girlfriend, he noted, spotting the other women in the apartment.

After the song was over, Blaine removed the gauntlets and helm, and retrieved the message Sam had slipped him as he’d gotten into the van.

“To Kurt, you are beautiful, kind, and talented. Signed Will U. Goutwithme.” Blaine frowned and reread that last part.

…

Kurt was stunned. It had almost sounded like this adorable, dorky man had just asked him out.

“Of course he’ll go out with you!” Santana called out. “That’s why Mercedes and her boytoy Sam set this up!”

“Wait, what?” both Kurt and the knight with the golden voice said.

Mercedes grinned. “We knew if neither of you have dated anyone in months, and we knew you’d like each other, but when I brought up the subject of setting you up, you said you weren’t interested,” she said, shaking a finger at Kurt. “So we decided to send you a romantic singing telegram.”

Kurt was glaring at his friends. “And did anyone bother to ask if..” he paused and looked at the other man, one eyebrow raised.

“Blaine,” the knight supplied, and Kurt couldn’t help smiling at him.

“Did anyone ask Blaine if he wanted to be set up like this? Cause you already know this wouldn’t have been my idea of a first introduction/”

“But he’s perfect for you, Kurt,” Rachel interjected. “He can keep up with you vocally, he’s smart, and good looking, and gay!”

“He’s standing right here,” Blaine mumbled.

Kurt couldn’t help smiling at him again. “Ignore my friends and soon to be ex roommates, they share one brain between them, and I think they’ve lost most of it sometime after moving here. I’m sorry they put you up to this. If there is any way I can make it up to you, just let me know.”

The curly haired knight smiled at him. “You could have coffee with me sometime.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow again. “Are you sure?”

“Only if you want to, of course.”

Kurt smiled again. “I’d like that.”

…

“Well?” Rachel demanded before Kurt even fully had the door open after his coffee date with Blaine the next day.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Well what?”

“How’d it go?” She said, voice raising in volume and pitch.

He shrugged. “It was nice. He’s taking me out to dinner tonight. I just came home to change clothes.”

“Two dates on the same day?” Rachel practically squealed. “You like him!”

“Maybe,” Kurt said.

“There’s no maybe about it! I knew this would work!”

“I’m still not happy with you three meddling in my life, you know that, right?”

“But Kurt,” she said, eyes going wide, an innocent yet still cheesy smile on her face. “We did it all for the glory of love!”

#klaineccvalentines2021 #Klaine #Valentine's Challenge #2021

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 4 years

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invisible string

Prompt 1 (invisible string by Taylor Swift) from the Klaine/CC Valentine’s Challenge 2021.

Thank you to @klaineccfanficlibrary for jumpstarting this series for me!

Summary: they were always meant to be together

Announcement: this is also the first installment of my folklore series. It pairs well with Lover. I’ll be arranging the stories at some point so they read in track order. Enjoy!

AO3

Green was the color of the grass

Where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

Blaine thought it must be strange to sit in the park trying to read but getting distracted by the greenness of the green. The people walking past him didn’t comment on his odd behavior. New Yorkers didn’t care about what other people were doing, they had places to be and no time to care about weirdos admiring grass while sitting on park benches.

But Kurt Hummel wasn’t a true New Yorker. He may fit right in with the city folk in terms of fashion and efficiency yet Kurt was still fundamentally a small-town boy.

He had an eye for details and Blaine had an eye for Kurt.

He loved watching Kurt perfect a particularly challenging dance routine in class. He enjoyed watching Kurt analyze food menus when they went to get lunch together as if deciding on the right dish was going to affect how the rest of his day was laid out. Blaine liked walking with Kurt and actively seeing Kurt take in his surroundings, the strangers walking past them, and the city itself all around them. Sometimes, if Blaine was extremely lucky that day, Kurt would turn to him with a smile—just a little grin, no teeth—and make some sort of comment about what a fellow student was wearing and chuckle under his breath about it when it was particularly bad or sigh in awe if he had been out-fashioned.

On that Friday morning, Blaine was waiting to meet Kurt for their usual coffee date. Well, not quite a date, just a tri-weekly coffee before their shared dance class. Sitting on a park bench admiring the grass's coloring because he didn't have Kurt to admire instead.

It was in a taxi that same night when Blaine realized he was in love with Kurt Hummel.

They had been out dancing with some friends from class celebrating the end of midterms week. Kurt and he decided to share a taxi home because they both lived in the dorms. They were slightly sweaty, the cab driver refused to change the station from something other than whatever radio talk show he was listening to, but they didn’t really care. They had each other and didn’t need music anymore.

Blaine just kept thinking how easy it would be to walk his fingers over to Kurt’s hand and intertwine them. It shocked him so much that he shuttered and Kurt asked him what was wrong. Of course, he stammered out “nothing” and tried to calm himself down.

The taxi wasn’t dark because the city was never dark; Blaine knew if he started to blush Kurt would notice. So he willed himself to breathe and suddenly they were at the campus and going their separate ways while promising to text each other when they were safely inside their dorm. That was that: Blaine was in love with Kurt and he had no idea what to do about it.

****

Teal was the color of your shirt

When you were sixteen at the yogurt shop

You used to work at to make a little money

Colors were always very important to Kurt. They were a way to express himself without too much fear of being treated definitely. At least the bullies weren’t offended by the colors he wore, just the fact that he existed and was very obviously gay.

Now colors weren’t just shouts into the world about his sexual orientation (though they did help with that as did his love of layers), they were emotional markers for him. Reds for romance, blues for sadness, gray for loneliness, etc.…

He started to notice colors more and more often as he spent considerable amounts of time with a fellow student, Blaine Anderson. Like the yellow bowtie, he wore the first time they grabbed coffee. It had been the first weekend of the spring semester, so late in January that they were discussing the possibility of a snow day during the first week back at school. Kurt had been in his element, plenty of layers to remove in the warmth of the coffee shop. Blaine had adorable light gray earmuffs and mittens resting on the table.

They learned a lot about each other that day. Blaine had lived in Roosevelt, NY with his older brother for most of his life until moving to the city for university. He really was only an hour from home, he often said.

They met at NYU.

Kurt was a Performance Studies major at Tisch and Blaine was an education major but they both found themselves in an elective dance class spring semester. They were both freshmen, new to the city, and had a love of coffee. With dance class at 9 am, they made a habit of meeting for coffee beforehand. Friendship just blossomed from there.

It was the end of March now, spring break over and done. Blaine was in the middle of this tale of his 16-year-old self working at the yogurt shop, somewhere between him spilling a pint of blueberry yogurt on his teal shirt and the tie-dye effect that occurred, Kurt realized for the first time: I’m in love with him.

They weren’t even dating. They had only known each other for two months. Yet, here Kurt was walking by this boy’s side laughing at his ridiculous antics, and very much in love.

****

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

One year after their revelations about each other they were sitting in Centennial Park near where Blaine grew up. Instead of simply admiring the grass, as Blaine usually did when he came here, the couple laid out a blanket and had a picnic in it. Blaine had packed everything but Kurt had made all the food. They were a team now if only for the last six months. It’s been the best six months they had ever spent in New York, which was really saying something for Blaine because he had been living here his entire life and Kurt had spent his whole life fantasizing about it.

But somehow their relationship exceeded all of those fantasies and surpassed all of those previous life experiences. Maybe it was because they were doing this together and not alone. For so long they had both been gray and now they had color.

They had found a love that was worth everything they had already gone through and worth anything that they would go through in the future because they had each other and they knew it. Even though it only been six months, Kurt and Blaine knew this was going to be forever for both of them.

One single thread of gold tied them together and neither of them were ever letting go.

#KlaineCCValentines2021 #klaine #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #my fics

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catcat-85 · 4 years

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This is my contribution to the 2021 Klaine/CC Valentine's Day Challenge.

Day 14: Love On Top by Beyonce

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!

Summary: After months of being friends with benefits, Blaine tries to convince Kurt that they belong together.

#klaineccvalentines2021 #klaine fanfiction #catcat85 #love on top

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 4 years

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Sending love and gratitude to all the lovely writers who took this year’s Valentine’s Challenge. You are helping to keep our fandom alive and well! We will most definitely be back next year!

This is the masterpost of everyone who took part. When you’re done reading their works, please be kind and leave kudos and/or a comment. If there are late comers who haven’t yet finished, we will update and reblog this post. Again, thank you so much.

Lynne, @hkvoyage and @lilyvandersteen

admirabletragedy

gleefulpoppet

teddyshoney

grlnxtdr29

2Klaine06

writing_everyday

jdjd08

catcat-85

ItsNotEasyBeingQueen

vivireels

wowbright

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #glee fanfiction #klaineccvalentines2021 #klaineccvalentines masterpost #February 2021

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teddyshoney · 3 years

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A new chapter of My Rhythm and Blues is up! This chapter, somehow, became nearly 12k words. So, since I haven’t updated in a couple weeks, this should explain why.

I have to give a huge shout-out and a billion thank yous to my fantastic beta, @jayhawk-writes. She is still so, so busy, and she took time to go into my chapter more than once to help me out. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate her and her support of my stories and writing. Thank you, my dear friend! ❤

I also need to thank @gleefulpoppet for celebrating my little victories as I wrote this chapter and giving advice to get past a few humps. I appreciate all your help and cheerleading so much! ❤

(Both of those ladies are wonderful, wonderful friends, and I’m incredibly blessed to have them!)

We only have two chapters left in this story, one more story chapter, and the epilogue. I’m very excited to get this story completed and share it with you all! Thanks for sticking with me over the past few months as I worked on this.

If you want to read this new chapter, you can find it HERE on AO3 or HERE on FF.net.

#in every lifetime series #my rhythm and blues #klaineccvalentines2021 #klaine fanfic

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wowbright · 4 years

Text

Summer Skies

Summary: A conversation at a church soccer game gets Kurt thinking about his choices.

Words: ~2500 words

Challenge: For the Klaine/CC Valentine's Challenge. This vignette takes its title and inspiration from the Day 4 prompt song, Adore You by Harry Styles, particularly the lines You’re a wonder under summer skies, brown skin and lemon over ice.

Notes: This story takes place in the Mormon!Klaine verse. Kurt and Blaine fall in love while serving as missionaries in Germany. See the Mormon!Klaine Master Post for more info and where this story fits in the verse.

More Notes: I jump ahead in this one, skipping over a lot of important stuff that I will write later. Blame it on Harry Stiles and summer skies. Why couldn’t he write about spring skies? Well. Suffice it to say, the part I haven’t written yet is Blaine coming out to Kurt and them figuring out they’re in love. In this vignette, they're still in the process of trying to figure out what to do about it.

Kurt needed to be careful and not spend too much time looking at Blaine. Not because he thought anyone would notice—they were on opposing teams, and keeping an eye out for opponents was only natural—but because if he looked, his gaze might get caught there, and he’d get so immersed in wonder at the way his companion looked under summer skies that he wouldn’t see anything else, and the next thing he'd know, a soccer ball would smack into his head and he'd go flat down on the field and the opposing team would score.

Why he'd been allowed in the rotation for goalie in the first place was a mystery to Kurt. Everyone else in the Ingolstadt branch was 10 times better at soccer then he was, and that included the two 7-year-olds at the opposite side of the field who'd doubled up in the position of goalie on account of being short and young. On that logic, Kurt and Blaine should have been allowed to team up on account of being American. At least it wasn't a real game, and Kurt could rotate out of his current positions when one of the teams finally scored.

Chiko came barreling down the field with the ball, her short black ponytail bobbing side-to-side, a determined grimace on her face. The Wörle kids were supposed to be his defense, but they'd been diverted by a tricky series of passes between Chiko and their dad, so they were still halfway down the field. Meanwhile, Chiko was at most 10 yards away from him. It was hopeless.

“Don’t do it, Chiko. Have mercy. Don't you remember I baptized you?”

“We're not at church now,” she said with a mischievous smile, and kicked.

Kurt heard the loud thud of the ball before he felt its sting against his paired forearms. Then he noticed that the field was tilting downward and his feet weren't on the ground.

Huh. He was actually blocking the ball. Or at least halfway there. What was he supposed to do with it now? Kurt saw Ute Wörle out of the corner of his eye and swung his arms, praying for the best.

And it actually went toward her. She looked as surprised as he felt, her eyes going wide before she stuck out her tongue in concentration and jumped, catching the ball with a bent knee, and kicked it down the field far enough to give Kurt momentary respite. Chiko turned to chase it. “Next time, elder,” she called over her shoulder.

Usually, Kurt and Blaine wouldn't attend the branch’s Saturday evening pick-up games, but the investigators they had planned to have dinner with had cancelled at the last minute and it was more fun than going tracting. Plus, members were encouraged to bring their friends, so it was a chance to do some subtle proselytizing on the sidelines. Alas, this week the only non-members who’d shown up had been a pair of teenage girls who’d flirted with an oblivious Blaine for a little bit before saying they weren't really interested in hearing about the church, they just come by to hang out because their friend was Mormon and had invited them, but they themselves were feminists and didn't like how churches blamed women for everything.

“Then you should ask your friend about Mother Eve,” Kurt had said.

“You mean, the one you hate on the most?” The shorter girl with wispy blonde hair asked—Carola, Kurt thought it was.

“No, not at all. Christians who demonize Mother Eve do so because they don't have the fullness of the scriptures. But our prophet Joseph Smith gave us scriptures that painted a bigger picture. Because it doesn't really make sense that choosing knowledge would be a sin, does it?”

“Of course not,” said her friend with the pageboy cut, whose name Kurt absolutely could not remember, but Blaine had written down somewhere, thank goodness. “We're Homo sapiens. We seek knowledge. It's in our nature. It's silly to think that following our nature should be a punishable crime.”

“Well, according to our scriptures, it's not. God gave Eve and Adam a choice. They could live on earth forever, always staying young but never learning or changing—because all their needs would be met in the garden of Eden, so they wouldn't need to learn anything. Or they could take the risk of forging out on their own. They would be able to create things, build homes in towns and cities, have children—”

“Make art,” Blaine had chimed in.

“Yes—and explore science, and discover new things. But to do that, they needed to eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and that would take away their ability to live in the garden forever. It wasn't a punishment. It's just that, like every decision, there were pros and cons on each side. No longer being able to live forever was a con of the decision to seek knowledge. But the positive aspects outweigh the negative. So we in the church are grateful for the choice Mother Eve made in the garden, because it means we have the opportunity to learn and grow.”

The girls hadn’t converted on the spot, but they’d seemed intrigued, and later when they left, they'd been willing to take the phone number of the sister missionaries.

Kurt mulled over the conversation as he stood uselessly at his goal, since all the players were currently scrambling for the ball on the other side of the field. Blaine was in the thick of it, enthusiastic and exuberant as ever, wholeheartedly invested in getting the ball even if it meant stealing it from a 12-year-old. To be fair, the 12-year-old’s parents were around six feet tall and he himself was only an inch short than Blaine—or maybe they were the same height, when one accounted for the voluminousness of Blaine’s hair. Kurt wasn't terribly surprised when the kids snatched the ball back from Blaine and kicked it into the opposition’s goal. Instead of looking disappointed, Blaine broke into a smile and patted the kid on the back before running off to shake hands with his team’s twin goalies and say something that made them laugh. Blaine laughed then, too, and God—he was so beautiful, his sun-browned skin glowing in the golden light of the midsummer evening and his innate goodwill palpable from the opposite side of the soccer field.

“It's your turn to be on offense, unless you want to take a break,” Brother Wörle said.

“Um…” Kurt walked toward the midline and sought out Blaine again. When their eyes met, Blaine’s grin widened. Kurt couldn't help the little flutter that rose in his chest as he asked Blaine with raised eyebrows and improvised hand gestures whether he wanted to keep playing or go to the sidelines. Blaine nodded that he wanted to play. Kurt turned to Brother Wörle. “I'll play offense.”

Blaine was still on defense, which gave Kurt a lovely thrill, because it meant that by the rules of the game, Blaine would have to come close to him every time Kurt made a move toward the goal. So Kurt made lots of moves, and Blaine kept bumping into his shoulder as he tried to recapture the ball, and their legs got tangled up more than once, and they tripped back-flat onto the field, knocking the wind out of each other so hard they both had to laugh. Kurt had never pictured himself like this, flattened out on a ball field and enjoying it—the soft scratchiness of the grass through his clothes, the glorious view of the pinking sky, the sweet soreness in his muscles. Back in high school when he'd been a placekicker, his coach had asked him to train as a substitute running back so that he'd have more to do than sit around until it was time for a field goal. Kurt had refused. He'd been smaller then and didn't like the odds of getting tackled by a brute twice his size. But more than that, he hated the idea of falling, of losing control, of getting muddied by the earth.

“Get up, Elder Hummel. You're not dead.” Blaine was already on his feet, reaching his hand down toward Kurt to pull him up.

“I know. But the view is great from here.” Kurt had meant the sky, but Blaine pursed his lips and averted his eyes like he was trying to keep himself from giggling or blushing and—yeah. That view was great, too.

For the next round, Blaine switched to goalie while Kurt stayed on offense. If the arrangement had been planned, it couldn’t have been better for Kurt’s team. Because of course Kurt was going to do everything he could to stay in Blaine's orbit, to tease him with zigzagging approaches and unpredictable movements so Blaine would have no choice but to keep his eyes on him. The running got Kurt’s heart racing, but so did the way Blaine swooped and twirled to block his shots like they were in a dance, the way his face slipped back and forth between concentration and giddy smiles, how Blaine laughed at Kurt’s ridiculous taunts and Kurt laughed back, so that pretty soon all he was doing was running and laughing, his joy amplifying every time it ricocheted off Blaine’s, the way a couple's image was amplified with each reflection in the mirrors of the temple’s sealing rooms.

Kurt finally made a goal after tricking Chiko into running in the opposite direction and aiming the ball as high as he could get it without going over the net. Blaine jumped for it but missed it by a fraction of an inch, then landed on the ground with a somersault and a snicker.

“You're supposed to be nicer to me, you know,” Blaine said as he righted himself on his feet. “You're my senior companion and I need your patience and lovingkindness. I should tell the mission president that you're mean.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You love it when I win.”

Blaine ducked his head and blinked. “I do,” he whispered, and looked up again into Kurt’s eyes with a glance that only lasted a fraction of a second, but was pregnant with meaning. Kurt felt his blood rush southward.

“You're incorrigible,” Kurt said and ran off to the water fountain to splash his face with cold water and sing nursery songs to himself and try to think of anything but the fiery spark blooming in his belly.

Kurt felt calmer by the time the game ended. He’d sat on the sidelines for the rest of the game, cheering the other players on and thinking about Mother Eve. Like her, Kurt had been put into a life filled with difficult choices. Like her, he could choose the path of least resistance, or he could take a risk. If he continued to follow the church’s rules, the prophets’ and apostles’ directions—if he remained celibate and held on to the hope that he would be made straight in heaven—they would tell him he was doing the right thing. His leaders would praise him for it, hold him up as an example of righteousness. And Kurt would stagnate and become resentful. He didn’t want to become straight in heaven. He wanted to be with Blaine.

And that was the other option being offered to him. He could follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost, the feeling of peace he felt when he thought about Blaine—a life with him, a home with him and, yes, even a marriage. The church wouldn't understand. It would see his actions as not just a transgression, but a sin. His leaders would tell him he was cursed, that he had chosen to live outside of God's law, and they would likely try to punish him for it.

But there was a difference between punishment and consequence. The story of Mother Eve told him so. He may have to leave the church the way that Eve had to leave Eden, but just as she continued to carry paradise in her heart, he would carry his love of the Gospel. The church couldn’t take that away from him.

Kurt silently repeated the scripture to himself:

… if Adam had not transgressed he would not have fallen, but he would have remained in the garden of Eden. And all things which were created must have remained in the same state in which they were after they were created … wherefore, they would have remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for they knew no misery; doing no good, for they knew no sin.

But behold, all things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.

Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.

“Some of the folks are going to the beer garden for an after party,” Blaine said after the game as they unlocked their bikes from the rack. Everything was lit orange by the setting sun. “Would you care to accompany me?”

Kurt was far past the point of being shocked at the idea of Mormons hanging out at a beer garden. German Mormons knew how to take care of themselves. They would order soft drinks or near beer or mineral water and stuff their faces with fried potatoes and Wurst. You could take the beer out of the German, but you couldn't take the German out of the beer culture.

Lemon cola and fries would be nice, but it was close to nine, nearing curfew. And Kurt had other ways he wanted to spend his time before they went to sleep.

“No,” Kurt said. He lifted his eyes to Blaine’s. “I want to go home with you.”

Kurt meant to say other things, too. That he was ready, that he knew now where the Spirit was guiding him—to open himself up to Blaine, to make himself vulnerable, to take Blaine’s hand and discover each other—discover life—together. But Kurt's hands started to tremble, and his throat wouldn't make any more sounds, because he was looking at Blaine and his heart was filled with so much love it felt like it might burst.

But Kurt didn't have to say anything. He saw the spark of recognition in Blaine’s eyes, and the same degree of love and desire reflected back at him. “Okay,” Blaine said, but it was more like a breath than a word. “Yes.”

#klaineccvalentines2021 #klaine fic #klaine #klaine fanfiction #mormon!klaine #my fic #my klaine valentines 2021

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wowbright · 4 years

Text

Lock the Door and Turn the Lights Down Low

Summary: Kurt overhears Blaine doing something very, very private.

Words: ~2200 words

Challenge: For the Klaine/CC Valentine's Challenge. This vignette takes its title and inspiration from the Day 10 prompt song, Your Man by Josh Turner, particularly the line Never felt a feeling quite this strong, I can’t believe how much it turns me on.

Notes: Part of the Mormon!Klaine verse. Kurt and Blaine are missionaries in Germany. Kurt is out as gay, and Blaine is closeted to everyone, including himself. See the Mormon!Klaine Master Post for more info and where this story fits in the verse.

Rating: Explicit? IDK. There’s masturbation in it.

Warning: Kurt has shaming attitudes toward masturbation, but Blaine doesn’t and holds his own. Unintended overhearing of masturbation, which could be considered a violation of boundaries.

Kurt couldn't have been sleeping long, because the sound that awakened him wasn't loud or unusual. It was just the soft creak of wooden bed slats as Elder Anderson turned over in bed.

Kurt couldn't see Elder Anderson’s outline very well. The moon wasn't out and no clouds were in the sky to reflect the light from the street lamps below their apartment windows. But he could hear Elder Anderson’s raspy exhalations—not quite snores, but louder and more irregular than daytime breathing. Kurt focused on them, hoping that concentrating on his companion’s steady breaths would help him fall back asleep.

Except … there was something odd about the way Elder Anderson was breathing. Irregular. It sped up and slowed down, then sped up again. It would go from heavy and raspy too absolutely silent and then back again, but stronger now, almost panting, and then a stifled groan, and another creak of the bed slats, and the rustle of sheets, and Kurt was tingling all over, and—

No. No. This could not be happening. Elder Anderson could not be doing that in the bed next to Kurt’s. Kurt was imagining things, sleep deprived. Elder Anderson was having a nightmare. That's why he was breathing funny, and tossing and turning, and making those weird, stifled grunts that could indicate pain as much as pleasure.

And Kurt almost convinced himself of that. Because it was a perfectly reasonable hypothesis. Elder Thompson had been a sleepwalker, and Elder Saint James talked in his sleep almost as much as in his waking hours. And every missionary ever was a restless sleeper once in a while.

Only, not every missionary whispered, “Oh, oh,” in stifled staccato breaths as the sheets shuffled faster and faster over his body.

And Kurt should not be staring in Elder Anderson's direction, but it wasn't his fault, he hadn't even been able to see anything when he’d first woken up. Kurt wasn’t a voyeur. But whether it was his eyes adjusting or his brain taking sound and interpreting it as sight, he could see now: Elder Anderson lying on his back, one hand slipped beneath his garment top, moving beneath the fabric in slow circles over his chest, and the other hidden by a single sheet pulled over his waist, tenting the cloth at the exact place Kurt would expect it to be tented if his companion was doing unspeakable things to himself right at this very moment. And the sheet—it was moving, too, up and down, up and down, and Elder Anderson’s breaths were growing more and more ragged, and this should not be turning Kurt on, he should not be getting hard, it was sinful and depraved and—

Kurt needed to cough or yawn or pretend to talk in his sleep, something to startle Elder Anderson into stopping. He could turn over loudly in bed. But he didn’t do any of these things.

Elder Anderson's breathing became simultaneously more quiet and more intense with each second, until it stopped completely and his hands went still and his body stiffened and Kurt swore he could see the contortions of pleasure on his face—no, wait, Kurt was imagining that part, it was too dark to see anything more than the outline of Elder Anderson’s jaw and his open mouth, but still Kurt could see it clear as day—the squinting eyes and the flushed cheeks and the pick panting tongue—and he really shouldn't be imagining it, shouldn't be picturing what Elder Anderson's face looked like when he was in that vulnerable, elated, shameful state.

Elder Anderson stifled himself, made a choked-off sound that was strangely gorgeous and made Kurt feel things in his heart as much as in his penis—and maybe that was the worst part, the way Kurt’s heart was pounding not at the thought of being gratified himself, but at the thought of what it would be like to gratify Elder Anderson, to make him feel warm and comforted and at peace, to watch him as he peaked and then went limp, how he would look Kurt in the eye and know that Kurt adored him.

Elder Anderson relaxed into the mattress, the hand that had been under his shirt falling limply to his side. He let it rest there for a few moments before reaching over to grab some tissues from his nightstand and do what Kurt could only assume was a perfunctory cleanup. Which should turn Kurt on even less—he'd never been a big fan of any kind of bodily secretion—but the idea of Elder Anderson’s most private thing all curled up and weary and spent gave Kurt a pleasant thrum all through his body.

Kurt felt anything but pleasant when he woke up the next morning before sunrise and Elder Anderson. It was only 4 a.m., but it was futile to try to get back to sleep. Kurt kept replaying things over in his head without meaning to, and the ache in his heart grew bigger, and so did his shame and anger.

Kurt spent the next ninety minutes in their tiny living room, lifting weights and going through every resistance exercise he could think of, trying to burn off all the energy that wanted to come out from where it shouldn't.

It seemed to help. By the time he was done, he felt so exhausted, he collapsed on the couch and closed his eyes, thinking maybe he could fall asleep for a few minutes. But just as he approached the border of sleep, the image of Elder Anderson’s ecstatic face transpired in his mind and he awoke in a cold sweat.

“Did you sleep badly last night?” Elder Anderson said when he walked into the kitchen. “You were up before the alarm.”

Kurt glared up at him from his bowl of cold cereal. “What do you think?”

Elder Anderson looked startled, a deer in headlights. Kurt could see him actively trying to regain his composure as he pulled up a chair across from Kurt and sat down. “I think you slept badly last night,” he said gently.

Ugh. Elder Anderson was so annoying. Always being so patient, never wanting to fight. “Well, duh.”

“Okay, then. I'm going to make myself some breakfast. Do you want anything?” Elder Anderson stood up from the table and went over to the refrigerator. He pulled out a package of Wurst.

Kurt scoffed.

“Um … Did I do something to offend you?”

“I was just thinking how appropriate it was that you would you choose a big fat sausage for your breakfast this morning.”

Elder Anderson scrunched his eyebrows in what Kurt took to be confusion. “There's enough to share. If you think I've been hogging them, we can get an extra package next time we go grocery shopping.”

“I'm fine. Apparently I don't have the same need to constantly play with my Wurst that you do.”

“Oh.” Elder Anderson’s expression froze as if he had just seen a ghost, and his face went so pale he almost looked like one.

“You said that last night, too.” Kurt shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth to keep himself from adding anything else. He didn't want to diffuse the impact.

“I … I’m so sorry. I thought you were asleep.” Elder Anderson dropped the Wurst on the counter, the way he should have dropped it last night.

“I was. Until you woke me up.”

Elder Anderson looked somewhere just over kurt's shoulder. His coloring went from pale khaki to crimson. “I'm sorry. I considered getting out of bed and going into the bathroom, but that door is so loud and the light going on and off … I was so worried that would wake you. I mean, it doesn’t make things better …” He let out a frustrated huff.

Wait. Did that mean last night hadn’t been Elder Anderson's first time doing that under their roof? He just usually did it in the bathroom instead? (And why did Kurt's mind have to immediately jump to wondering whether Elder Anderson did it in the shower or in front of the mirror, into the bathroom sink?) “You could have done nothing. And that's not what the bathroom’s for, either,” Kurt said.

“Elder Hummel—”

“Or anywhere.”

Elder Anderson sunk down in his seat across from Kurt again. “Elder Hummel, I'm really, really sorry. Mortified. I'm not going to ask you to forgive me because what I did was beyond inconsiderate. I was too focused on my own stuff. I should have figured out another way to get to sleep. I clearly wasn’t thinking straight—”

“That’s an understatement.”

“—and there's no way I can justify it. I mean, I didn't intend to do harm, but clearly I did. All I was thinking about was getting myself to sleep and then I ruined yours.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Then why did you do it in the first place?” Kurt stared at Elder Anderson, daring him to answer.

“Elder Hummel, I’m not going to answer that.”

“No, really. I want to know. Because of all the missionaries I’ve worked with, you’re the best. When we work together, I feel the presence of the Holy Ghost like I’ve never felt before. And I don’t understand how someone who has such an awareness of the Spirit would risk it all for a moment of pleasure.”

Elder Anderson didn’t answer. He looked at the table and blinked too rapidly, and that annoyed Kurt because maybe it meant he’d pushed Blaine to the verge of crying, and if Blaine actually cried he would feel terrible.

Kurt softened his tone. “You need to repent and ask Heavenly Father for forgiveness. And maybe you should talk to the mission president about your problem, too. Get some guidance from him. Breaking the law of chastity is serious.”

“I’m not— Is that what you think?” Elder Anderson looked up at Kurt. His eyes were shining, but the expression—it was hurt as much as sadness.

Kurt felt like someone had just stabbed him between the ribs. “I know it hurts to be corrected. But yes.”

Blaine shook his head. “No, I mean about the law of chastity. Because masturbation—yes, it should definitely be done in private and I now know I shouldn’t assume anyone’s asleep or that I’m as quiet as I think, but— It’s not against the law of chastity. The law of chastity is about saving yourself for your eternal companion. Not giving your body away to people who won’t respect it. It’s not about being an ascetic, or a monk.”

“You’re not respecting other people when you entertain lustful thoughts about them.”

“But I don’t. I don't think lustful thoughts when I’m doing it. I don’t think about girls at all.”

Kurt quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at his companion.

“I don’t! There’s a difference between taking care of a physical need and inflaming lust. I mean, it's got to come out one way or another, and we can only do laundry once a week, so I'd rather it come out when I'm awake.”

“You could buy an extra sheet.”

“Look, Elder Hummel. I am really, really sorry that I woke you up last night and exposed you to … well, whatever you saw.”

“More like heard.”

Elder Anderson’s cheeks turned a flattering shade of pink, and he looked down at the table and blinked like some innocent, easily scandalized lamb. “Again. I’m sorry. And I want to make it right. If that's even possible. So I want you to think about how I can do that, OK?”

Kurt gave Elder Anderson a begrudging nod.

“And I want to hear you out about your interpretation of the law of chastity. Maybe you have some points I haven't considered. But I also want you to understand that I'm not trying to flout the church’s teachings. As far as I've always understood it, and priesthood holders I respect have explained it, masturbation isn't a violation of the law of chastity, and it's not even a sin unless you do it lustfully, or do it so much that you start to neglect your spiritual development and your obligations to others and the church. And in that sense—what I did last night was a sin. Because I violated your trust. I violated my obligation to you to create a home in which you feel safe. And by interfering with your sleep, I’ve interfered with your ability to focus on the work.” Elder Anderson looked so sincere as he spoke, and so sympathetic, and so contrite. He was making it difficult to stay furious at him.

Kurt wasn’t ready to make peace, but maybe he could ease the tension. “Now, Elder Anderson, that last part's an unfair assessment,” he said haughtily. “I have laser focus. Feel guilty as you want about the rest of it, but don't think I’ll let a little adversity distract me from my mission.”

Elder Anderson chuckled. “I didn’t mean to imply that, Elder Hummel. You are the most dedicated missionary I've ever met. And I admire that about you. A lot.” He looked straight at Kurt when he said it, his eyes soft and the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

Kurt didn't look away.

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wowbright · 4 years

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I Close My Eyes at Night

Summary: Blaine has found himself feeling more aroused than usual.

Words: ~2600 words

Challenge: For the Klaine/CC Valentine's Challenge. This vignette takes its title and inspiration from the Day 9 prompt song, How Sweet It Is by Marvin Gaye and also performed by James Taylor, particularly the line I close my eyes at night wondering where would I be without you in my life.

Notes: This is a mirror fic to Lock the Door and Turn the Lights Down Low, which should be read first. Part of the Mormon!Klaine verse. Kurt and Blaine are missionaries in Germany. Kurt is out as gay, and Blaine is closeted to everyone, including himself. See the Mormon!Klaine Master Post for more info and where this story fits in the verse.

Rating: Explicit (masturbation)

Blaine knew he was lucky. He felt bad sometimes for things he’d done, but it never grew into the shame that plagued so many of the missionaries he'd met in the training center and while serving in Germany. He could tell the difference between doing a bad thing and being a bad person.

“No need to sulk about it,” his mom used to say. “Christ has already redeemed you. All you need to do is accept that gift and do better next time.”

“But my seminary teacher says every sin we commit adds to Christ’s suffering at Gethsemane,” he responded one time early in high school. He'd gotten into a fight with Sam over Sam’s new friend Joe, and Blaine had called Joe a “Jesus hippie” and Sam an “airhead so stupid you can’t see he’s just using you, he’s just trying to suck you into his weird hippie cult and notch another soul on the barrel of his rifle for the Lord,” and while the first insult rolled right off of Sam's back, the second one made Sam turn pink right to the tips of his ears. “Say that again,” Sam had said, and Blaine had said, “He’s using you, he thinks you’re going to hell if you don’t join his church, and you don’t even care, you don’t even care about your own worth,” and he wasn't sure if he was the first one to start the shoving match, but they both got sent to the principal’s office and put into detention for the rest of the week.

If Blaine had ever come close to feeling shame, that was it. What had possessed him to call Sam stupid? It was one thing to question Sam's judgment, but another thing entirely to accuse him of being fundamentally flawed. It was disrespectful to Sam and it was disrespectful to the Heavenly Parents who had made him into the sweet, slightly gullible kid Blaine loved.

And then to think that he’d added to Christ’s pain—

“No. You can’t think that way,” his mother said. “Christ took the atonement on willingly, because he knew that all of us would sin and all of us would need redemption. He didn’t expect us to be perfect. He did it because he loves us so much that he wants us to live with him in heaven, even though we’re not perfect and don’t deserve to on our own. He decided to pay that price.”

“But—”

“It’s like a mother giving birth, Blaine. It's painful, but it’s a mother’s choice to go through that. Because she wants to share her life with her child. No one blames it on the baby. Do you feel guilty about being born?”

Blaine had heard plenty of stories about his mom's twenty-six hour labor, how the doctors thought she was going to die at one point, how the room got so crowded with hospital staff that his dad couldn’t get in to give her a blessing.

And even so, it was all worth it, his mother always said, to have a son as loving as Blaine.

“No,” he said. “But I wish it had been easier.”

“And that’s fine. It's good that you wish Christ didn't have to suffer for you. But he made that choice. He did it to free you from guilt and shame, not to add to it. Because he loves you.”

His mother was right, of course. What was the point of the gospel but to lead us to an understanding of the love of God? You couldn't feel love if you felt ashamed. You couldn't grow and change if you felt that you were fundamentally flawed.

That didn't mean Blaine never felt embarrassment or regret. He felt those things a lot. Blaine was someone who operated on instinct, who didn't always think the consequences of his actions through and, when he did, was terrible at predicting the outcome.

Like that regrettable evening when he'd indulged himself in bed, thinking Elder Hummel was asleep.

He was not.

Unlike missionaries who swore their sexual desires disappeared while they were on their missions, Blaine hadn’t been blessed in that particular way. He’d received a partial blessing—he didn't develop crushes on girls or have lustful thoughts about the women he met—but that was more an extension of the blessing he'd always been gifted with, not something new that had occurred on his mission.

The other thing that was the same as before his mission? Blaine didn't need to have sinful thoughts in order for his body to have its own desires.

And it had gotten more intense lately. For most of his mission, Blaine only felt the urge to masturbate every couple weeks, and as often as not it was done more out of a desire to avoid accidents in the night than it was out of any kind of arousal.

But lately, his desire had become more insistent. It usually struck him hardest at night when it was time to fall asleep, after he and Elder Hummel had shared a goodnight prayer and a warm hug before each retiring to their beds. Blaine would gaze out the skylight at the stars, listening to the comforting rhythm of Elder Hummel’s breathing, and filled with a wonderful sense of peace that grew with each breath. There was something so right about sharing his life with Elder Hummel, like Blaine had lost a piece of himself on the day he was born and it had been with Elder Hummel all along. He’d told Elder Hummel that he thought they'd been friends in the preexistence, but it was more than that. They had been the closest kind of friends, the kind of friends who needed each other to become their best selves, whose love brought them closer to God and salvation. Like the brothers and sisters in Saturday’s Warrior, they knew they would face challenges in the mortal life, and they had promised to find each other so they could help each other through it.

Every day only confirmed Blaine’s suspicions that he and Elder Hummel had been foreordained to meet in this life. Blaine felt the Spirit's presence like he'd never felt before on his mission—had never felt at all, except for fleeting moments here and there, like when a rainbow formed over the desert or that one time a hummingbird perched on his windowsill for five whole seconds before flying off again. Now, it was with him almost constantly, an undercurrent of tranquility that connected each moment to the next. And that was because of Elder Hummel—his strength in the gospel, his discipline, his talents, and the deep well of love that he tried to keep hidden but spilled out constantly with each look and deed and word.

And yet somehow, in the midst of these elevated thoughts, Blaine would feel his member awake. Sometimes it was a soft urging, easily ignored. But other times it was more insistent, calling to him, reminding Blaine that he was not just a soul but a body, and that his body was an eternal part of who he was—something that existed now and would exist in heaven, too—and therefore was something to be celebrated, nurtured, and not disregarded.

The first few times it happened, Blaine had dealt with it the way he’d often done on his mission—gone to the bathroom, locked the door, and stood in front of the sink, twisting the cold water handle on and off intermittently to disguise any sounds and, later, to wash his release down the sink. He didn’t fantasize about sex. He focused on the physical feelings and the blessing of having a body, while the occasional memory flitted through his mind—always something emotional but innocuous, like some joke shared earlier in the day with Kurt or the feeling of warmth that filled his chest when they prayed together—but never profane images or lustful thoughts. The closest it ever came to that was when Blaine would look down at his moving hand and wonder what it would be like someday when that was his eternal companion’s hand on him, arousing and sating his desires. But it was nothing close to explicit—no images of a specific person came to mind—and it was the idea of an eternal companion that aroused him as much as the idea of sexual touch. God had given him these urges to prepare him for that everlasting bond, to nurture a longing for the intimate companionship that would help him achieve exaltation. Inside that union, sex would be a sacred thing, uniting him to his beloved physically and spiritually for all time, heightening their love for each other and God. And how incredible that love would be, for it would have to be even deeper than the platonic love he now felt for Kurt.

It was amid such thoughts that Blaine would climax, with an intensity he'd rarely felt earlier on his mission. He had to bite his bottom lip half the time just to keep from crying out. Once, he felt tears of mingled gratitude and relief pushing against his eyelids as he came.

He’d collapse against the sink, his muscles losing all their tension, and work to recover his breath, silently praying to Heavenly Father his thanks for giving him a body that could feel pleasure as well as pain, for guarding him from sinful thoughts, and for giving him a release valve that helped him preserve himself for his eternal companion.

So, no. Unlike Elder Hummel and his middle school bishop, Blaine did not think masturbation was a sin. It was a gift to be treasured.

The problem was in the logistics. Elder Hummel was as high-strung as a recently rescued cat, always on high alert, even in his sleep. The very act of Blaine getting out of bed tended to wake him. When compounded by the flash of the hall light and the opening and closing of doors, it was almost a surefire method to interfere with Elder Hummel’s sleep.

So Blaine had to stop his midnight forays into the bathroom.

He was successful for about a week. If the arousal came to him, he prayed to Heavenly Father, thanking him for his body and the procreative urge, but asking for relief from it until he could engage in it without disturbing his companion. And then he would review German declensions and do sums in German and try to remember the German words to his favorite hymns until he finally fell asleep.

But then came a night when none of it worked. His prayers, his grammar exercises, his mental review of scripture—still the desire thrummed through his body. Blaine opened his eyes to trace constellations through the skylight, but he started to remember the love stories he'd read about the stars—how Perseus conquered a sea monster because of his love for Andromeda, how Altair and Vega loved each other despite their parents’ condemnation, how Orpheus’s love for Eurydice was so strong he followed her into the Underworld.

Thinking of love made Blaine ache even more.

Blaine turned to look at Elder Hummel. It was dark in the room, but he could see that Elder Hummel was sleeping on his side, facing out into the room, the lines of his eyebrows and eyelashes visible against his pale skin. He was breathing softly, steadily through slightly parted lips, completely lost in the peace of sleep. If Blaine focused on him, timed his breaths with those of his sleeping companion and thought about virtuous things like their brotherly love, and Elder Hummel’s patience and loving kindness, and how familiar and homey it felt when they ate together and read scripture together and prayed together, just like it should feel in a family, and the warmth that filled Blaine’s chest every time Elder Hummel smiled at him—if he thought on these things, he should be able to fall asleep, too.

But it didn't work for some reason. Blaine's arousal continued to grow. His member was as inflamed as he could ever remember it being without touching. He felt his own lubrication beginning to leak from the tip.

It was a bad sign. Even if Blaine could fall asleep now, he was sure to awake in the middle of the night with damp clothes and stained sheets. And what was he supposed to do then? He only had so many pairs of garments, and this was his only set of sheets, and it wasn't like they had a washer in their apartment that he could just throw everything in once it was soiled. He'd have to inconvenience Kurt by requesting an emergency trip to the laundromat, which would interfere with their proselytizing schedule, or he’d have to shove it all in a bag until their next trip scheduled trip to the laundromat, by which time the stains would have set in.

Blaine made one last stab at willing himself to sleep. He closed his eyes, focused again on his companion’s breath for several minutes.

But it was hopeless. He wanted.

Blaine reached into his shorts. The relief he felt at the contact was almost instant. It was okay. Elder Hummel was asleep. And it wouldn't take long. Not with how aroused Blaine was.

Blaine shoved his shorts down around his knees. The bed creaked. Blaine glanced over at Kurt to see if the sound had awakened him, but he was still curled up on his side, his hand resting peacefully above his top sheet, his long fingers flexing with his sleeping breaths.

Blaine suppressed a moan. He'd unconsciously begun moving his hand while checking on his companion, sending shocks of sensation up his spine and down through his thighs. Wow, it felt good. Felt good to have a body, felt good to be in this bedroom where he was safe and loved, felt good to know he was so close to release, that it would be quick and blissful and over and Elder Hummel would get his full night’s sleep without being woken by Blaine bumping into bed frames or shutting doors, and Blaine had to be careful, so, so careful, had to close his eyes and concentrate, to listen to his own breaths and regulate them, not let them get heavy or loud, had to be careful not to thrust his hips or cry out even though it felt good, so good, as good as Blaine could ever remember, maybe even better, and if he was very very careful and very quiet he could hear Kurt’s steady breathing, reminding Blaine that he was here in this room in Germany under the night stars and they had bodies, they both had bodies, and their bodies were gifts from God, and—

Blaine moved his hand to catch his release before it could hit the sheet above him. It deflected back onto his belly, tangling into the hairs there. Blaine didn't want to move, ever. He felt like a fledgling bird who had taken its first flight, ecstatic and exhausted.

But he had to do something about the mess on his belly. He reached toward the night stand, grabbing a clump of tissues from the box as quietly as he could. Elder Hummel hadn't moved, except for his fingers, which had curled into a fist. But his eyes were closed and his breaths were those same, steady breaths.

Blaine’s heart warmed at the sight of Elder Hummel at peace.

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 4 years

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Invisible String

Green was the color of the grass Where I used to read at Centennial Park I used to think I would meet somebody there Teal was the color of your shirt When you were sixteen at the yogurt shop You used to work at to make a little money Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me? Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh Bad was the blood of the song in the cab On your first trip to LA You ate at my favorite spot for dinner Bold was the waitress on our three-year trip Getting lunch down by the Lakes She said I looked like an American singer Time, mystical time Cutting me open, then healing me fine Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me? Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh A string that pulled me Out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons Wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold Tied me to you Cold was the steel of my axe to grind For the boys who broke my heart Now I send their babies presents Gold was the color of the leaves When I showed you around Centennial Park Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven Time, wondrous time Gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies And it's cool Baby, with me And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me? Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh Me Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh [Outro] (Ah-ah-ah) (Ah-ah-ah)

If you have any questions or don’t see your fic reblogged to the library - let us know.

If you’d like to be included in the AO3 Klaine Valentines Challenge collection - add your fic HERE.

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teddyshoney · 3 years

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Another new chapter of My Rhythm and Blues is up! In this one, we get to see the boys finally come out to the world about their relationship, and Blaine has a surprise in store for Kurt that he doesn’t see coming. I also have a surprise for you, author to reader. I wonder if any of you caught what I was doing… 😊

If you’d like to read the new chapter, you can find it HERE on AO3 or HERE on FF.net.

Thank you to @jayhawk-writes for editing this chapter during her incredibly busy week! I wouldn’t be posting this week without her!

#my rhythm and blues #in every lifetime series #klaine fanfic #klaineccvalentines2021

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 4 years

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WELCOME TO THE 6TH ANNUAL KLAINE/CC VALENTINE’S CHALLENGE!

To quote the great Stevie Wonder, love’s in need of love today. We are continuing the Valentine’s Challenge! The library will post a song prompt, complete with lyrics and video if available, at midnight EST starting on February 1 and every day through February 14th.

The challenge is open to both Klaine fanfic and CrissColfer fanfic (or art).

You can do whatever your muse tells you. Either write a 14 chapter story (the more new stories in fandom, the better!), or 14 separate one shots, or you can create art. However you interpret the song is up to you. Maybe just the title moves you, the lyrics, just one line in the lyrics - it’s up to you. And the more words, the sweeter!

Use the tags #Klaine or #CrissColfer and #KlaineCCValentines2021

The library will reblog each entry every day, and upon completion, we will create a masterpost of all the entries.

Please email the library and let us know if you’re participating so we can keep a look out for your daily entry.

Please reblog and spread the word!

Thank you!

~Lynne & Adrienne

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wowbright · 4 years

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My Way Home

Summary: Blaine is romantic even when he doesn’t mean to be.

Words: ~1000

Challenge: For the Klaine/CC Valentine's Challenge. The title is taken from the Day Three prompt song, I Knew I Loved You by Mateo Oxley, and the vignette is inspired by the line I knew I loved you before I met you.

Notes: This story takes place in the Mormon!Klaine verse. Kurt and Blaine are missionaries in Germany and they’ve temporarily adopted a lost cat. Kurt is out as gay, and Blaine is closeted to everyone, including himself. See the Mormon!Klaine Master Post for more info and where this story fits in the verse.

Rating: Teen and up

“I missed you, Spinnenkatze,” Kurt said as he walked into the apartment to be greeted by the strange little gray ball of fur who'd wedged herself into their lives. He was already bending down to scritch under her chin before the meaning of his own words dawned on him. “Oh my gosh. Did I actually say that?”

“Say what?” Elder Anderson squatted on the floor to join in the pet fest.

“That I missed her. We've known this cat for less than 24 hours.”

Spinnenkatze plopped to the floor and wiggled around like a worm before presenting her stomach for rubs. Elder Anderson took the bait, stroking her chest with one hand and behind her ears with the other. “I guess you fell in love at first sight.”

Kurt rolled his eyes for no one's benefit but his own. Elder Anderson's were absorbed in the adorable antics of their new feline friend. “I’m not in love with a cat,” Kurt insisted. “Anyway, it was terror at first sight.”

“Not romantic love. Familial love. The way parents talk about being in love with their babies.” As if to illustrate, Elder Anderson begin cooing in response to Spinnenkatze’s purrs.

“Spinney isn't my baby.” The cat’s ears perked as if she knew they were talking about her. She flipped over onto her paws and turned to Kurt, butting her head insistently against his hand until he gave in and plopped down onto the floor next to Elder Anderson, showering her with pets.

“Just admit it, Elder Hummel. There was a cat-sized hole in your heart before she came into our lives. It's like when you meet an old friend from the preexistence for the first time.” The preexistence was a time when everyone lived with God before they were born. “You look at them and realize that you loved them before you even met them. Because you did meet them before. Back when you were living with God.”

“I'm not sure they had cats in the preexistence.”

“I’m not sure they didn’t.”

Kurt lost himself in petting Spinnenkatze for a few moments. Her fur was so fluffy, softer and finer than human hair. Even softer than Elder Anderson’s hair. Though that didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy combing his fingers through Elder Anderson's just as much. “Have you had that happen to you?” Kurt said.

“Had what happen?”

“Sorry. Just what you said earlier. About meeting someone and feeling like you knew them in the preexistence?” Kurt’s heart sped up. It was a stupid question to ask. He shouldn't be thinking about touching Elder Anderson’s hair or about love at first sight or about meeting someone and knowing that you loved them before you even met them. Elder Anderson was his companion. His straight companion. His closest friend. Kurt couldn't do what he’d done with Finn and try to turn an innocent friendship into something else.

“I get that feeling every time I meet a cat,” Elder Anderson said, placing his hand near Kurt’s as he rubbed the base of Spinnenkatze’s spine.

Kurt smirked. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“I’m rather predictable in some ways.” Elder Anderson gave Kurt an amused smile.

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.” Elder Anderson’s expression went thoughtful, his eyes lost in the movements of his hand in Spinnenkatze’s fur. “With people, I don't think I feel it immediately. Or, I feel it immediately, but I don't know what it is until later. Like, Tina, I barely remember meeting her because we were so little then, but I'm sure we must have known each other in the preexistence. I mean, she's practically my sister.”

Kurt's heart clenched. He hated when Blaine talked about Tina. It was stupid, pointless jealousy, and probably also unfounded given that Blaine consistently described her as his sister, but still. It wasn’t like people couldn’t have a crush on someone who was practically a sibling. Kurt’s dumb old crush on Finn had been proof of that.

“And don’t you think—” Elder Anderson started, but stopped himself before finishing his sentence.

“Don't I think what?”

“Sorry, it wasn't really a question. I was just thinking. Everything is so easy with you. I don’t mean the mission. I mean our companionship. Living with you. Being with you.” Elder Anderson lifted his hands away from Spinnenkatze and folded them in his lap, which Thank God, because otherwise Kurt might have done something stupid like inching his hand closer to Elder Anderson’s, trying to link their pinky fingers together or something else inadvisably bordering on romantic.

“I’ve never been someone who felt excluded or misunderstood,” Elder Anderson continued. “But I guess I never felt particularly understood, either. But with you, I feel understood. And that's nice. So maybe … No, not maybe. I definitely think we knew each other in the preexistence. And it’s okay If you don't think in those terms. I know we're not really supposed to dwell on what's on the other side of the veil anyway. But I feel too comfortable with you to understand it any other way.”

How had Kurt ever been impressed with Chandler’s silly attempts at flirting when Elder Anderson said stuff like that? Kurt’s heartbeat skittered nervously up and down his rib cage. Elder Anderson was going to be the death of him. He picked up Spinnenkatze and plopped her into his lap, burying his face into her fur so Elder Anderson couldn’t see the conflicting emotions there. Kurt didn’t want to speak, but he had to. “I feel like you get me, too,” he said. Maybe Blaine didn’t get that Kurt was head-over-heels for him, but he got the rest. Kurt had never expected to find that anywhere.

If Kurt did ever decide to stray from the church so he could be with someone he loved, he wasn't going to do it over some guy who made ridiculous puns. He was going to do it for some guy who made him feel the way Elder Anderson made him feel.

#klaineccvalentines2021 #klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #mormon!klaine #my fic #my klaine valentines 2021

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