Summary: Soulmates are born on the same day, entering the world as one to accompany each other to their last. The names of their soulmate appears just as soon as they are named by their parents, on their palms. Some meet quickly, maybe even in the same hospital that they are born in and are lifelong friends, others take longer to meet.
The story of Kurt and Blaine begin the first day of their lives.
Title based on this song.
Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and Blaine Devon Anderson were born on May 27th, 1993 at 7:33 in the morning.
At Lima Memorial Hospital, Burt and Lizzie Hummel’s breath catches when they finally see their first child in the arms of the kind eyed nurse. He’s tiny and a little fussy, but Burt wouldn’t have expected any less from his son.
The nurse places him into Lizzie’s arms and her smile could have lit up the world as far as Burt is concerned.
“He’s perfect,” says Lizzie, half crying.
“His name?” asks the nurse.
Lizzie and Burt exchange hidden smiles. “Kurt,” says Burt after a moment. “For Liz’s favorite musical. Plus, it matches mine.”
At Westerville General Hospital, the name Kurt Hummel appears in black letters across the back of Blaine Anderson’s (though that’s not yet his name) tiny fist.
random prompt: lost
Blaine stands in the middle of the crowd by the pretzel stand, twisting Franny the toy duck in his hands and sniffing lightly, trying not to cry. He’s a big boy now, and big boys don’t burst into tears just because they’ve lost their mommy. They go into a shop and find a nice looking adult in a uniform and ask them for help.
But none of the adults look nice. They’re all tall and they’re all walking quickly and half of them have frowns on their faces, and the rest of them are too busy talking and laughing with their friends to notice him.
The last place he’d seen his mom was the jewellery store where Blaine and Franny had been squinting in a glass cabinet at the little sparkling crystal and glass animals on display, and when he’d turned around she was gone. He knew he should have stayed put and waited, but he’d wandered out to look for her and now he can’t even see the jewellery shop anymore.
He presses Franny to his lips, chest tight, and a tear escapes and rolls down his cheek just as he hears a quiet, high voice behind him.
“Are you okay?”
Prompt: Blaine calls Cooper after his first kiss with Kurt.
“I kissed him, Coop! I kissed him and he kissed me.”
“I kissed him.”
“I kissed him, Coop. I kissed him and he…you know what he did?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“He kissed me back, Coop. He kissed me, too.” Blaine informed him, hardly able to contain the great joy in his voice.
“Finally. Congratulations, squirt.” Cooper replied, letting out a large huff of air in relief.
“Do you remember the first day I met him, Coop? Do you remember? I called you. I called you and I said-“
Blaine has a habit of falling asleep on the couch while watching TV. In fact, Kurt doesn’t know if he can even remember the last time he managed to watch an entire programme without Blaine’s dead weight falling against his shoulder.
It had started in high school, when they were restricted to cuddling on the couch while their parents were in different rooms, making up excuses to stay later and later into the evening until they couldn’t help but fall asleep.
Now though, in their apartment with a bed within five steps from the couch, Blaine has no excuse for this.
“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Blaine”—“and Kurt!”—“no, Kurt, (laughs) this isn’t your phone, stop“—“and I’m sorry he can’t answer your call, but he’s with me, so leave a message!”
Kurt’s heart twists uncomfortably in his chest and his grip on his phone tightens. Nothing but dead air plays over the receiver but he can’t hang up, not now, not after he’s dialed one, two, three times already and Blaine still won’t pick up.He needs to know something other than the crushing reality of what is, of what happened.
His face is damp and hot, splotched red from crying, and still the tears come, welling up and blurring his world before spilling down onto his jeans and the dirty, weathered wooden floor of his shoebox New York apartment.
He doesn’t want this to be the end. It can’t be the end—they were only on chapter four of the story of their lives together. They’re supposed to have dozens more. Blaine’s not supposed to tell him that it’s over. Kurt’s not supposed to live his life without Blaine already. He feels sick and his head is pounding, but he can’t move up from where he’s curled against the wall and the side of his bed, isn’t sure if he could move at all if he tried.
Kurt disconnects the call and pulls his phone from his ear long enough to shakily redial. The screen is smeared with the salty residue of tears and the oil from his fingertips; he jams it back to his ear as it rings one—two—three—four gets cut off but Blaine isn’t hitting ignore. He can’t be. Blaine would never ignore Kurt’s phone calls, he’d promised with gum wrappers and that stupid sincere smile of his—
“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Blaine—”
Kurt quickly hits end again, takes a deep breath and lets it out in a shuddering sob. It echoes in his bedroom, loud and heart-wrenching and utterly final. His phone is hot in his fist and where it rests against his thigh. He should give up, let everything simmer for a few days before trying once again. Time can help. It always does. But just once more, one more chance, maybe Blaine’s had enough time to properly think things over, maybe it was a mistake.
When he redials this time it’s slower, his finger tapping each little number precisely, afraid of the possibilities when he hits call this one last time. He schools his breath, tries to cough out the shake he knows will be in it when he speaks (please answer the phone Blaine god please just talk to me baby I love you please don’t do this to me just pick up).
He holds his breath, hope fluttering dully in his stomach.
He knows the photo Blaine took over the summer of them by the pool will be flashing on the screen.
Just pick up, Blaine…
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Blaine Anderson. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
It doesn’t dawn on Kurt right away, the change of words, the change of tone from upbeat, happy, to cold and dead. Flat. It registers after Kurt drops the phone to the floor, wants to throw it instead so that it shatters like his heart just shattered into splintering pieces with a sound like glass, and wraps his arms around his legs, hugs them close to his chest and sobs until his throat is raw, he can’t take a sufficient breath, and he feels like he’s going to throw up.
Blaine changed his voicemail.
They sat in silence outside the house. Burt crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the dashboard of his truck until Carole was pretty sure he was going to bore a hole in it.
“This is a really big deal, Carole,” he said at last. “You’re the first person I’ve dated since my wife…” His voice trailed off. “I gotta be honest. Kurt…he’s the most important thing in my world. He’s-”
“He’s your priority,” she finished quietly. She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I know. I’m the same way with my little boy.”
“Finn and I got along pretty well, though,” Burt said. “He’s been looking for a dad in his life.“ He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Kurt’s mama’s only been gone a year and a half. He still cries for her at night when he thinks I can’t hear him. And he’s not real good with strangers. If he-”
“It’s probably going to take some time for him to warm up to me,” Carole said. “And he might not ever warm up to me. But we’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it, all right?” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I just want to meet your son.”
Burt smiled at her, still worried but grateful, and squeezed her hand before climbing out of the truck. She followed him up the walk to the front door, surreptitiously taking in the details of the house- the Hummel name painted in pretty script on the mailbox, the slightly overrun garden full of yellow roses and blue morning glories, the small aqua child’s bicycle parked on the porch.
The storm door was closed but the front door was open, and Burt stepped into the foyer. “Kurt, I’m home,” he called. She squared her shoulders, bracing herself.
Anonymous asked: Klaine prompt: Blaine coming over for the dinner at the hummel/hudson household as Kurt’s boyfriend for the first time.
“Do you want to come over my house for dinner tomorrow night?” Kurt asks, pulling back mid-kiss, and Blaine slowly blinks his eyes open. He knows Kurt just said words. Now all he has to do is switch his brain from kissing mode back to thinking mode and make sense of them.
“Dinner?” Blaine says, trying to look away from Kurt’s shinywet, kissed-pink lips and meet his eyes instead.
The corner of Kurt’s mouth tugs up in a grin. “At my house, tomorrow. Is that okay? I just thought it’d be nice to—”
“It sounds perfect,” Blaine says with a smile, feeling his chest fill with warmth at the way Kurt beams at him, and then he completely forgets what they were talking about when Kurt’s lips are back on his.
i’m still hung up over the box scene, some aftermath of that i guess?? /o\
“Ohmygod, he made that for you? Kurt, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Tina says, smiling brightly while she and Mercedes admire his bow-tie-gum-wrapper promise ring.
Kurt flushes, allowing himself to preen as he holds his hand up and wiggles his fingers. “Yes, well, my cutie is very good at being cute,” he says, biting his lip while Mercedes rolls her eyes and Tina laughs.
Kurt drops his hand quickly when Blaine walks into the choir room with Mike, chatting animatedly about some music video, and Kurt grins when Blaine spots him, his whole face lighting up when he notices the ring where Kurt’s hands are resting in his lap.
“You’re wearing it,” Blaine says in a soft voice when he stops in front of Kurt’s chair, and Kurt watches Mike wink at Tina and lead her away in his peripheral vision, Mercedes following them over to the tree. “And… Kurt, your bow tie matches the ring’s bow tie.”
“And you’re wearing an ascot, very classy,” Kurt teases back, letting Blaine take his hands and stroke over the finger the ring is on.
Title: Hearts and Homes
Rating: Eventually M
Summary: A cold winter night finds Kurt stranded after some car trouble, only to bring him face to face with a sick, shivering, homeless boy beneath a bridge. That boy, of course, turns out to be Blaine.
A/N: I don’t know if ‘homelessness’ is technically a trigger, but I’m sure it could bring about bad memories for those who have been through something similar. So, warning for that. This idea came to me after I woke up from a nap and I have absolutely no idea why. I just woke up with the idea of Homeless!Blaine in my head. This is going to be hurt/comfort galore, so if you enjoy that sort of thing, I hope you’ll like this! I hope to post a chapter a day, just to get my creativity back on track and such, and the other chapters probably won’t be as long as this first one. But I think it’ll turn out to be some kind of sweet, loving bit of fiction!
“The pitiful glow from the dying fire gives way to a boy, huddled and small beneath a threadbare blanket. He’s got this mass of frizzy curls atop his head and he stares openly a Kurt, his eyes wide, glossy, and one hundred percent terrified. His nose appears red and raw and the sniffles never cease, even in his fear. Kurt can see the outline of his knuckles from underneath his thin blanket.
Title: In My Arms
Rating: G - warnings for fluff and general coziness :)
Summary: I stumbled across this Cuddle Buddy Application in my ‘liked posts’ the other day and was suddenly struck by inspiration to write a Klaine one-shot with it. I created the form for Kurt (shown above) myself, but the original post can be found here.
Really, baking is exactly what Kurt needs right now.
After his freak out, it is the perfect way to calm down and relax and to not think about Blaine. Mainly because he’s focusing on getting clumps out of his batter and keeping Finn from stealing tastes when his back is turned.
But once he’s cleared the kitchen of distractions (and Finn found out the batter was vegan), Kurt settles into an easy rhythm that he always seems to find while making things.
He’s humming when his phone vibrates on the countertop (a safe distance away from any flying batter—he can get a little over zealous with his stirring sometimes. Kurt sighs, switching the spoon to his left hand before reaching to grab his phone. Probably Rachel again, reminding him to bring something or asking him what he wants for dinner or—
Hey Kurt! :)