Title: Where There's Smoke [The EPILOGUE]
Rating: Fer Errbody (overall rated M: be old enough to not put me in jail, pls.)
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, Wes and David friendship, mentions of former Finn/Rachel
Word Count: 2400/100,000
Warnings: Kurt finally hangs out at the fire station. Guess what happens? (Be prepared, my firefighter daughters, for intense situations)
Summary: Fireman AU. A few months down the road.
A/N: This wouldn't exist (no, truly, I almost deleted it) without the most amazing editor a person could ask for, flaming_muse. Any remaining errors fall squarely on
Previous Chapters: [Masterlist + One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five][Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [Twelve]
One-Shots In This Universe
Saying Goodbye to the Engine Co 204 Brownstone
...And Hello To Station 114
A Love I Can Be Sure Of
(more to come!)
Wanna see what I see? I made a scrapbook back when I started writing. Here's their world.]
[ETA] Please know that I typically am NOT okay with people building off my stories. [And you should always ask authors if they're okay with that, regardless of who it is.] I will share many things, but the little worlds that I create are not one of those things. Thank you for respecting that.
* * * * *
Kurt shivered, even though he had on his good camel hair 3/4 length coat (estate sale, vintage Yves Saint Laurent, and it had been a cinch to take in at the waist) and his favorite cashmere scarf wrapped to cover his ears. It wasn’t usually this cold in New York City by November, but the weather apparently didn’t care to stick with the program and was running on a mid-January schedule.
Head down, he made his way to the red door situated between the two large garage doors, pulling one of his buttery soft leather gloves off his hand in order to turn the knob and get out of the cold. He slipped quickly inside and pressed his back against the door to shut it faster; the pneumatic hinge sometimes stuck and he didn’t want the men down by the rigs to yell at him for letting the cold in. Again.
After glancing upstairs to see if Blaine was out on the loft, he passed Wes, who was testing the control panel on the back of one of the trucks. Wes waved hello but before he could call out, Kurt held a finger to his lips to shush him. Wes grinned and waved him on, returning to his task. As Kurt walked past the opened door to the rec room, he could see Big John sitting at the table with a steaming bowl of soup. He pantomimed tip-toeing in an exaggerated fashion and cocked his head towards the staircase. John, like Wes, also laughed and waved him on.
Kurt crept up the stairs, resting as much weight on his hand at the railing so his feet would barely touch the edge of each step. He peeked around the corner before climbing the last flight to the upstairs loft to make sure Blaine wasn’t walking around outside his office or rummaging in one of the supply closets. The coast clear, he continued towards the--thankfully--open door to Blaine’s office. He tried to time each step with his exhales, trying to be as stealthy as possible. He only had, maybe, three more steps to the door.
“I know you’re out there, Kurt. Just come on in.”
Kurt stood up straight, a sour frown on his face. “How did you know I was here?”
“I’d know that cologne anywhere. Also, no one here wears cologne. Are you coming in, or am I coming out to get you?”
“Fine,” Kurt huffed, walking the rest of the way in. He sniffed at his scarf trying to make sure that he wasn’t drenched in scent. “Do I wear too much cologne?”
Blaine leaned back in his chair, hands crossed behind his head and a huge smile on his face. “Not at all. I happen to be quite fond of the way you smell, incidentally. They mopped up here with bleach an hour ago, so it’s a nice break from the earlier indoor pool smell.”
Kurt cocked one hip to the side and crossed his arms, reminding himself to not crush the box secreted away in his coat pocket. “I was trying to surprise you, you know.”
Blaine laughed, and Kurt couldn’t help but flush with warmth at the sound, his eyes drawn to the way Blaine’s chest bounced with each exhale. Blaine held out his hand, saying, “Come ‘ere.”
Kurt rolled his eyes and gave Blaine his still gloved hand, letting himself be tugged forward for a kiss. Blaine whispered against his mouth, “Every day with you is a surprise.”
Kurt leaned back against the inside of Blaine’s desk, their legs a tangle in the narrow space between the desk and Blaine in his chair. Blaine smiled up at him and began slowly pulling off Kurt’s remaining glove, kissing his wrist, his palms and then the knuckles at the back of his hand once it was free.
“You know, Captain,” Kurt huffed, but without any real aggravation, “you make it awfully hard to stay mad at you.”
“You weren’t mad at me to begin with.”
Kurt laughed, then forced a sober expression on his face, “I was, too. Livid. Positively--” He punctuated each syllable with a short kiss to Blaine’s mouth. “--livid.”
Blaine hummed and pulled Kurt into his lap, untangling Kurt’s scarf before rubbing the tip of his nose against Kurt’s neck. “You’re cold,” he said, squeezing Kurt as if he could press heat directly into Kurt’s body. “Not that I mind, but what brings you here tonight? I thought you’d be tunneled under all the blankets, nose buried in a book or watching some mindless tv.”
Kurt twirled a lock of Blaine’s hair around his finger, bouncing one leg. “That is still on the docket for the evening; the night is young. Also, you left out a steaming cup of tea and that I’d be wearing one of your sweatshirts. Since that’s all of you I’m going to get tonight of all nights.”
Blaine’s hands coasted up and down Kurt’s body and for a brief and wild moment, Kurt hated his many, many layers.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset, it’s my birthday,” Blaine murmured, his voice muffled further by having his mouth against Kurt’s neck.
“Because it’s your birthday today! And you’re working! I don’t know why you have to be nice and pick up someone’s shift. Just because Richard’s wife is having a baby,” Kurt flipped his hand dismissively. “Okay, I know. We’re going out tomorrow, but today is when you were born, and I wanted to do something now, not wait until tomorrow.”
Blaine looked up excitedly. “Did you bring me something?”
“I swear, you are like a toddler. Yes, I brought you a little something.”
Laughing, Kurt tried to bat Blaine’s hands away as he pawed all over Kurt’s coat looking for his present. He hopped out of Blaine’s lap, smirking when he heard the tiny whine from his boyfriend. Whirling around, he began unbuttoning his coat, his body flooding with heat as Blaine’s eyes went wide.
“No, I didn’t bring you a striptease.” He slipped his coat off and draped it over the end of Blaine’s desk. “That’s for tomorrow,” he purred, waggling his eyebrows suggestively before laughing. “This is your gift.” Kurt slipped the wrapped, slender package out of the pocket and handed it over, perching on the edge of the desk, his weight back on his hands.
Blaine shook it next to his ear, getting a laugh from Kurt. “It’s not a tennis bracelet, I’m sorry.”
Taking his time to not tear the paper--something that Kurt feigned annoyance at but secretly loved, that Blaine appreciated simple details like how a gift was wrapped--Blaine finally revealed a long, rectangular box, about as long as a hardback book and half as wide. He looked up quizzically but excitedly at Kurt as he lifted off the top.
Every time either of them had left Blaine’s house, the habit passed down through the Anderson family of touching the worn plaque at the door carried on. Kurt didn’t mind its exclusive language - it was so worn and dingy from lack of being polished that the words were barely legible.
But the miniature version on Blaine’s desk, that was something Kurt could do something about.
Kurt held his breath in anticipation as Blaine saw what it was. He watched Blaine’s eyes dart left to right as they skimmed over the gift; Kurt’s nerves were positively jangling with worry by this point.
“Is it too much? I’m sorry, it was something I’ve been thinking of getting you for sometime, and I didn’t mean to replace anything, just build on it and--”
Blaine turned to look at him, and Kurt’s heart lodged in his throat, hot and burning. Blaine had tears in his eyes and a tremulous smile fighting to stay on his face. “Kurt.”
Kurt bit his lip, his own eyes stinging at the thought of having upset Blaine, which was the very last thing he meant to do. “I’m sorry, I can take it back-- well, no, it’s engraved, but I can get you something else; I can do that right now.”
He reached out to grab at the box when Blaine took his hand, standing, and held the flat of Kurt’s palm to his chest. “I love it. Kurt...it’s perfect.”
“Oh,” Kurt sighed, relaxing a bit against Blaine’s warm body. “Really? I worried that it was a bit much, like I’m declaring something, and--”
“You can declare that. It’s wonderful,” Blaine said, kissing the corner of Kurt’s mouth, “and I love it.” He kissed the other corner, slipping the box onto his desk and wrapping his arms around Kurt to kiss him more thoroughly. Kurt couldn’t help himself, a few of the tears slipped down his cheek, so relieved that his gift was accepted, so relieved to be with someone that wanted Kurt to make declarations about their relationship and where they were inevitably headed as a couple.
Over the months they had become Kurt-and-Blaine, inseparable, loving, and undeniably happy. When Rachel’s friend that owned their apartment lost his position in his national tour in late September and needed to have his space again, Blaine had offered for Kurt to take up permanent residence in his home. The music room was both of their spaces now, and since Kurt’s performance over the summer, he had been given an offer for an original show in which he would star. Obviously, he jumped at the chance.
(He only admitted in the small hours to Blaine, and only when Blaine was very sleepy, that he was still miffed that they wouldn’t call it “Kurt Hummel: The Kurt Hummel Experience.”)
They had combined their lives easily, happy to work around each other’s schedules; as long as they could see each other every day, they knew it would work. They intrinsically understood that life could change on a dime, and they didn’t want to waste a moment.
They held each other, their breathing slowing to match each other’s, aware of how precious it was, the love they shared. After a moment, Blaine pulled back and kissed Kurt gently, his thumb stroking across Kurt’s cheek, wiping away the faint tear track. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Kurt replied, still so giddy every time Blaine said those three words, and more sure and certain about their future every time Kurt repeated it back.
Blaine took the old plaque from his desk and stuck it in a drawer. “Sonja will like this,” Blaine said, pulling out the velvet covered stand on the back of the new plaque to stand it up next to the framed picture of the two of them, cheek to cheek. Carole had snapped it after Kurt’s performance back in August.
“Well, Sonja can get her own. This one is for my man,” Kurt said, smirking as he ran his hand down the center of Blaine’s chest.
Blaine chuckled against Kurt’s neck, sending shivers to every inch of Kurt’s body. “Yes, I am.” Blaine pressed little kisses up his neck, pulling back to look at him in the eye. No regrets, no fears, no concerns, nothing but love shone back; Kurt sometimes couldn’t believe his luck, to have met the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, someone so perfect for him.
And, he thought a little rebelliously at times, how perfect he was for Blaine. Left to his own devices, Blaine would work himself to death or have a cardio-infarction while eating a bucket of fried butter. They complimented each other’s personalities, bringing out the best in both of them.
Someone cleared their throat outside Blaine’s office. Kurt went still, a blush flaring up his neck and heating his face.
“Give me a second, Bill; a guy only turns 27 once.”
Kurt heard Bill’s huff of breath; Kurt had learned over the months that it served as a deep laugh for him. Kurt pulled back from Blaine, smoothing his hair over his ear.
“Call me when you get to bed?” Blaine asked.
“As always,” Kurt replied, running his hand down the length of Blaine’s arm. He’d thought in the beginning of their relationship that he couldn’t sleep without hearing Blaine’s voice, and it had proved to be true. The nights where Blaine was on shift were the nights where Kurt went to bed with his phone, talking until sleepy, then letting Blaine’s voice lull him fully.
He put his coat back on, wrapped his scarf back tightly and held his gloves in one hand, reluctant to leave. “Happy birthday.”
Blaine kicked his foot out gently, running his instep along Kurt’s ankle. “It is. We’ll celebrate for real tomorrow.”
“You bet we will, mister,” Kurt said with a lascivious lilt in his voice. He blew a kiss to Blaine as he walked out. He pulled on his gloves as he made his way to the front door, a smile on his face as he went home.
Kurt’s version of the “FIREFIGHTER'S PRAYER”
When I am called to Duty, and
Wherever flames may rage,
Give me the strength to save some life
Whatever be their age.
Help me embrace a little child
Before it is too late.
Or save some older person
From the horror of that fate.
Enable me to be alert
And hear the weakest shout.
And quickly and efficiently
To put the fire out.
I want to fill my calling
And give the best in me
To guard my every neighbor
And protect their property.
And if I have to lose my life
According to my fate
Please bless with your protecting hand
My ever-loving mate.
And in small font at the very bottom, “With all my love, Kurt.”
One-Shots In This Universe
Saying Goodbye to the Engine Co 204 Brownstone
...And Hello To Station 114
A Love I Can Be Sure Of