Chapter Text
Kurt and Blaine had been outside shoveling snow for what seemed like weeks, even though it had really only been most of the morning.
It had snowed all night long and the boys were thrilled when school was called off that Monday morning. As soon as he heard, Blaine had hopped the fence to Kurt’s yard and then they set off to shovel the neighbor’s sidewalks, promising Kurt’s mom they’d eat something when they were done. They made two dollars each that freezing cold morning, not too bad at all. And Mrs. Brennan had given them some of the best hot chocolate either of them had ever tasted.
“I put a splash of Bailey’s in it for you, keep you warm,” she said in her light brogue as they stood on her screened in porch, dripping on her all weather rug. At nearly sixteen the boys had tasted alcohol before, but they had never had so much of it on empty stomachs.
They were very warm indeed when they went back out into the weather, filled with a sudden zeal for snow shoveling. When they had shoveled all the way up the block and back they finally decided they’d had enough.
“Your house or mine?” Blaine asked, barely able to catch his breath.
Kurt’s mom had driven off as soon as the roads cleared to check on his grandmother who lived upstate. Blaine’s mom had taken the train into the city from their neighborhood in Queens because she was a nurse and it’s not like hospitals can close for snow. They could go to either house and there would be no mom around to bother them, but Kurt knew that his house did tend to have better food options.
“How about mine?,” Kurt offered.
He tried so hard not to look too closely at the way that Blaine’s cheeks were lit up pink in the cold late morning air. The snow was still falling around them and for a split second he imagined what it might be like to kiss him, right there. But Mrs. Brennan might be looking out the window or Mr. Harrington, or Miss Sylvester. Anyone of their neighbors could have looked out the window at that very moment.
Not to mention who knows how Blaine might react to such a thing.
“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice was lightly panicked and Kurt shook his head to clear his thoughts just as a snow plow came by and sprayed them.
“Why didn’t you drag me away?” Kurt asked, his voice nearly shrieking.
“I don’t know! I thought you would see it.” Blaine knew he couldn’t admit that for a moment he was sort of lost in Kurt’s eyes, that it was only because he could actually see the plow coming down the street that he was even aware of it a moment before Kurt got splashed.
“Well, I guess we should go in and warm up,” Kurt said, walking up the driveway to the back gate, knowing they had to go in through the kitchen. His mom would have killed them if they messed up the living room rug.
“It’s the liquor,” Blaine said tripping a little as they walked up Kurt’s back steps. “It’s dulling our senses.”
“Maybe we should have more?” Kurt asked, a devilish look in his eye.
Blaine smiled and nodded. It sounded like a phenomenal idea to him.
They entered the back door and stood in the kitchen, frozen for a moment. All Blaine could think about was the curve of Kurt’s lips, while all Kurt could think about was touching Blaine’s face.
Blaine finally shook himself out of his stupor and began to shed his hat and mittens, his overcoat and boots. Kurt again tried to stop his thoughts before they even started. They’d been best friends for so long. He certainly couldn’t jeopardize their friendship in any way.
Kurt had heard that feeling this way about another boy was perverse and wrong, but the way he felt about Blaine didn’t ever feel wrong. It felt more right than when he spent time with girls, like Quinn, and he was almost as close to Quinn as he was to Blaine. And being with Quinn didn’t feel nearly as good as being with Blaine. So it wasn’t friendship he was feeling, it must have been more.
“Your hair is ridiculous,” Kurt said, giggling a little uncontrollably, giddy at being alone and thawing out from their morning spend outdoors. And something else felt like it was thawing between them, but it had to be the liquor, just like Blaine said.
“I know,” Blaine agreed, looking slightly embarrassed and rolling his eyes up in an attempt to see it. He could almost make out the fine tips that stood on end. “It’s the static in the air. I didn’t bother to Brylcreem it into submission this morning.”
“It’s ridiculous, but I kind of like it,” Kurt admitted sheepishly, but only once his back was turned from Blaine, going through the fridge to get the milk to make them more hot chocolate.
“Thanks,” Blaine said softly.
Kurt looked over his shoulder as he finished pouring milk into the saucepan. “You should go light a fire. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Blaine smiled. It felt weird, he couldn’t figure out why it felt so weird today with Kurt, like they were little kids playing house. But he liked it. His whole body was still warm from Mrs. Brennan’s Irish hot chocolate and he was quite frankly looking forward to holding onto that feeling.
The phone rang then, destroying the moment.
Kurt spoke to his mom while he stirred the saucepan of milk and Blaine did his best to start a fire in the fireplace in the living room. He and Kurt had spent a lot of time splitting logs during the fall for just this moment.
Kurt came in carrying two mugs and a bottle of peppermint schnapps under his arm.
“I figured I’d let you choose how much to put in yourself,” Kurt said.
Blaine stood and Kurt noticed he’d taken off the jeans he’d been wearing to shovel snow. Now he only had on his long thermal underwear. It wasn’t exactly revealing, not like he was wearing only shorts, but somehow it felt an extra special kind of intimate.
They settled in on the floor of Kurt’s living room, drinking their hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps. Kurt flipped on the radio and they warmed themselves by the fire. He found himself moving closer to Blaine, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. They could be very affectionate with each other, but today it felt different.
“What did your mom say?” Blaine asked.
“She thinks she might stay up there tonight, as long as I don’t mind. It took hours longer than usual to get there and she’s not sure she wants to come back after dark.”
Blaine nodded mutely, pulling his knees up under his chin, the schnapps almost too warm in his gut now, and he felt words growing in throat, as though the warmer he got, the less room there was for words.
“I love this song,” Blaine said when You Send Me by Sam Cooke came on the radio.
Kurt nodded and decided to ask the question that he couldn’t get out of his head. “Have you ever kissed someone?” Kurt asked.
Blaine stared at the fire. “Don’t you think you’d know if I kissed somebody?” He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so harsh, but his emotions were playing tricks on him.
“I don’t know,” Kurt said. “You could have a secret life, something you don’t talk about. You could have a wife and kids in Des Moines for all I know.”
Blaine laughed a little nervously at Kurt’s joke.
“I never have either. I’ve never kissed anyone. For the record,” Kurt added.
Kurt was unsure suddenly whether he should have brought this topic up, but he was seemingly goaded on by their aloneness and the snow outside and the fact that the alcohol seemed to be dulling his inhibitions so thoroughly.
Blaine inched his body towards Kurt’s, who looked over at him, firelight dancing in his pale eyes. Their shoulders were touching, but their shoulders touched all the time. This shouldn’t feel so new. It shouldn’t feel so right.
Kurt felt like crying but he couldn’t figure out why. He looked at the ground, at the carpet beneath them with its worn paisley print. Blaine was close, Kurt heard his breath before he felt him or saw him. And then he fit their lips together, just right.
Kurt’s eyes fluttered close. Neither of them knew what they were doing, they didn’t know what to do once their lips were actually touching, so they stayed like that for a moment, both hoping that instinct might take over. And it did, a little, Blaine parted his lips a bit and Kurt tipped his face.
But then Blaine pulled away so fast that for a moment Kurt’s face hung in the air, eyes closed, lips still parted, seeking Blaine’s touch.
“Why…” Kurt began when he opened his eyes.
Blaine had moved away, backed up against the couch, his hand over his mouth like something terrible had just happened. But the kiss wasn’t terrible. If Kurt could think of what the opposite of terrible was, that’s what he would call it. He was a little surprised by how much he liked kissing Blaine, but it was a good surprised. It was something wonderful, something perfect and new. Splendid and tangible, and like nothing he ever expected a kiss to be. And he immediately yearned for more.
“Are…” Blaine squeaked out, barely able to look at Kurt. He wasn’t sure what the rest of that sentence would have been so he held his tongue.
“I’m gonna go make us sandwiches,” Kurt said, much louder than he meant to, standing up and swaying a little, his hands on his hips. “Is grilled cheese okay?”
Blaine nodded tersely, afraid to look at his friend.
That was quite the … indiscretion, Blaine thought. But Kurt wasn’t kicking him out of the house, or calling the police on him, he was making them sandwiches and warming up some tomato soup, so hopefully Blaine would at least have a chance to apologize. Unless Kurt was going to poison Blaine’s portion.
Blaine wished his brain would work faster. The second cup of hot chocolate had apparently been a mistake. It must be the liquor, it was making him crazy. He decided he was going to lead a new wave of prohibition, alcohol should be outlawed if it was the type of stuff that makes you kiss your best friend.
Your male best friend.
They ate lunch in uncomfortable silence, then Blaine excused himself and went home. He entered his cold, quiet house and quickly shed his coat and boots. He padded up to the bathroom in his socks. He stripped and stared at himself in the mirror, trying to be angry, trying to berate himself for kissing Kurt. It had been so stupid to kiss Kurt, he couldn’t even begin to fathom what he was thinking. He took a hot bath, a very hot bath, trying to wash away the whole weird morning.
He laid down in his bed and shut his eyes, just trying to breathe. But the moment repeated over and over again behind his closed lids. He opened his eyes and tried to think of something else, anything else. He finally fell into a fitful sleep for a few hours and only woke up when his mom called to him that evening.
He went downstairs, shoulders hunched, still feeling a pit of guilt in his stomach. When his mom saw him kissed his cheek. “Were you napping all afternoon?”
He nodded and rubbed his eyes.
“Have a nice day?” she asked, grinning, her red lipstick still somehow perfect.
“Yeah,” he said.
She looked at him seriously and then touched his forehead as if to check for a fever.
“I’m fine, Ma,” he said, inching away and leaning his hip on the kitchen counter.
“Betty called me at the hospital to say she’s staying at her mom’s upstate overnight. Why don’t you fetch Kurt and have him come for dinner?”
His heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. He felt caught.
He certainly couldn’t explain to his mother what had happened to him that day, what had happened to them. He paused for a moment, knowing he didn’t really have a choice. Then he slipped on his boots and his overcoat and walked quickly over to Kurt’s. He cursed the short walk because it didn’t give him anytime to formulate a speech. He paused again and then rang the bell, a formality he never usually bothered with, but felt necessary after that afternoon.
Kurt swung the door open, his arms crossed against the cold, but also possibly because Blaine had so violated him earlier that he felt the need to protectively hug himself now. Blaine hoped not, but he obviously didn’t know for certain.
“Your mom called my mom,” were the only words Blaine got out before Kurt pulled him inside.
“You kissed me,” Kurt said, his hair disheveled like he had also been napping all afternoon. Blaine wished they could have napped together. That would have been nice.
“Yeah,” Blaine said, rubbing the back of his neck. “About that.”
“You kissed me,” Kurt repeated.
“Do you hate me now?” Blaine asked, squeezing his eyes shut, better to find out the truth now, like ripping off a bandaid.
“No,” Kurt said.
“No?” Blaine asked, opening one eye to look at Kurt. He wished Kurt would say more, but this exchange was going better than Blaine could have hoped.
“No, you dufus, I don’t hate you,” Kurt said, laughing. Kurt was laughing at him. This was an unexpected turn of events. Laughing was a positive reaction. Unless he was laughing at the way Blaine kissed.
“Why are you laughing at me?”
“Because you’re standing in my front hallway with one eye open and acting like a dufus,” Kurt said matter of factly.
Blaine opened both eyes now. “Do you want to not be friends with me anymore?”
“Of course I still want to be friends with you.”
Blaine smiled. “So you want to come for supper?”
“Of course.”
While Kurt got his boots and coat together, Blaine babbled.
“I don’t really know what came over me, it had to be the alcohol. I really can’t believe I did that to you, I didn’t mean to, I guess I wanted to try it out and after you said you’d never kissed anybody and I never kissed anybody and we’re both, you know, bodies. It seemed like a good idea, but my brain was all warm and mushy and I am never drinking again!” He finished with a flourish, swing his arms in the air.
Kurt stood up. “Your brain is always mushy.”
“I am so sorry, Kurt.”
“For what?” Kurt asked.
“For my… indiscretion.”
“Blaine,” Kurt said, moving to stand in front of his friend, putting his hands on Blaine’s arms. “I liked it.”
“You did?” Blaine was awestruck.
“I did,” Kurt said, squeezing Blaine’s shoulders.
“You’re not going to tell anyone?” Blaine asked, shrinking away a bit.
“No, of course not!” Kurt said. “It’ll be our secret.”
“Thanks, Kurt,” Blaine said, obviously relieved.
“It will be our secret, perfect indiscretion,” Kurt said with a raise of his eyebrow.
“You think it was perfect?”
“As first kisses, go, yes. The firelight, the soft music on the radio, the fact that you immediately didn’t try to stick your tongue down my throat which is apparently how most guys kiss from what I can gather.”
Blaine blushed again and swallowed. “I thought it was a good first kiss too.”
And with that they walked over to Blaine’s house where his mom fed them chicken and baked potatoes and all was right with the world.