Of Love & Gods.
( a p h r o d i t e )
Kurt had to drive irritatingly slow as he tried to deal with Blaine pressing every possible button while simultaneously singing along to the music he kept turning up at a blaring volume.
He was repeatedly hitting the skip button on his iPod that he hooked up to the radio, only stopping when he heard a familiar beat. “Oh, I love this song!”
As the song was building up, he was quiet, eagerly awaiting for the singing to start. Kurt savored the few moments of silence that was unfortunately shattered quickly with Blaine’s drunken singing (which although was sloppy, was still amazing to listen to).
“Let’s get down to business!”
Of course it was a Disney song.
On any other occasion, Kurt would’ve sung along whole-heartedly. But he was tired, jealous, and dealing with a drunken teenage boy. He just wanted to go to bed.
Kurt pulled into his driveway, turning off the car and therefore the radio, leaving Blaine disappointed. Ignoring Blaine’s kicked puppy expression, Kurt got out, and helped his giggly friend stumble out of the car. While Kurt was trying to lead Blaine inside, Blaine simply flopped onto the lawn, sprawled on the grass.
“Stay with me, Kurt,” he grinned boyishly, his eyes chinky. Sighing, Kurt reluctantly sat in the space beside Blaine, hugging his knees close to his chest. Thankfully, Blaine stopped talking and giggling and singing obnoxiously loud, and was just breathing deeply. Kurt’s head was back as he gazed up at the stars and the velvet cloak above them, trying to figure out how he was going to get Blaine inside without waking up his father (he briefly wondered how Finn would manage to do that after dropping the others off, but Finn, unlike Blaine, was sober and coherent).
“You know,” Blaine’s voice snapped Kurt out of his thoughts, “you’d be Artemis.”
Thoroughly confused didn’t describe how Kurt felt at first. “…what?”
“Artemis,” he repeated, sounding tired. “She’s the Greek goddess of beauty and love.”
Kurt was unsure as to where this was coming from, or if it was the alcohol talking or Blaine, just with liquid courage. He smiled at what Blaine was trying to say, thankful it was dark, because the blush on his cheeks must’ve been strong. He opened his mouth to say something, but Blaine cut him off.
“Wait, no, Athena. Aphrodite is the goddess of beauty,” he nodded, as if in agreement with himself. “Artemis is the goddess of the moon. But the moon is beautiful, too.” Blaine rolled on his side, facing Kurt, one of his fingers pulling on the belt loop on the side of Kurt’s pants playfully. “You’re beautiful, Kurt.”
His jaw fell open, the color on his face past every shade of red he could possibly think of (which was a lot). “Let’s get you inside,” he said, getting to his feet.
Getting Blaine up to his room proved to be a difficult task, but nothing Kurt Hummel couldn’t do. Blaine fell onto the bed, exclaiming muffled phrases of how comfortable it was into the sheets. Kurt worked on pulling Blaine’s shoes off his feet as the drunk boy continued his talk of the Greek gods and what they represented. Kurt wasn’t really listening, but he liked just hearing Blaine’s voice as he rambled about something he obviously had a hidden passion about.
“…and then there’s you, Kurt. Some stories say that Aphrodite was the daughter of Zeus and Dione. But the other theory that’s actually kinda ironic is that she came from the sea foam that formed in the ocean where Uranus’ castrated dick was thrown.”
Blaine was grinning madly and giggling at the color that returned to Kurt’s face, and it only got worse as Kurt’s blush did when Blaine decided to grab Kurt’s collar and tug, their faces ending up inches apart.
“You really are pretty, Kurt,” he said softly, weaving both hands into Kurt’s hair. “Like, really pretty.”
“Blaine, you’re drunk,” Kurt mumbled, being able to smell the alcohol on Blaine’s breath.
“Dionysus,” he replied. “God of wine and ecstasy.” He rubbed his nose against Kurt’s. Suddenly, the goofy smile turned into a warm one, and he seemed to be in a much more sure state of mind. “I really do like you, Kurt. But you’re Aphrodite, and I’m just a common peasant. That’s how it’ll always be,” he murmured, a sad tone notable in his voice.
Kurt wasn’t sure why he did it, because he was sure Blaine wouldn’t remember it in the morning (or maybe that is why he did it), but he did it anyways. He craned his neck a little bit so that he could softly kiss Blaine.
It wasn’t drunken tonsil hockey. It was close-mouthed, tender, and sweet.
Kurt was the one to pull away, a small smile on his face. He gently pushed Blaine back against the bed. “Go to sleep,” he said quietly. Blaine didn’t fight, and managed to find his way curled under the covers. When he heard the older boy’s slow breathing, Kurt wondered if he could convince Blaine to educate him again in Greek mythology sometime soon.
He was repeatedly hitting the skip button on his iPod that he hooked up to the radio, only stopping when he heard a familiar beat. “Oh, I love this song!”
As the song was building up, he was quiet, eagerly awaiting for the singing to start. Kurt savored the few moments of silence that was unfortunately shattered quickly with Blaine’s drunken singing (which although was sloppy, was still amazing to listen to).
“Let’s get down to business!”
Of course it was a Disney song.
On any other occasion, Kurt would’ve sung along whole-heartedly. But he was tired, jealous, and dealing with a drunken teenage boy. He just wanted to go to bed.
Kurt pulled into his driveway, turning off the car and therefore the radio, leaving Blaine disappointed. Ignoring Blaine’s kicked puppy expression, Kurt got out, and helped his giggly friend stumble out of the car. While Kurt was trying to lead Blaine inside, Blaine simply flopped onto the lawn, sprawled on the grass.
“Stay with me, Kurt,” he grinned boyishly, his eyes chinky. Sighing, Kurt reluctantly sat in the space beside Blaine, hugging his knees close to his chest. Thankfully, Blaine stopped talking and giggling and singing obnoxiously loud, and was just breathing deeply. Kurt’s head was back as he gazed up at the stars and the velvet cloak above them, trying to figure out how he was going to get Blaine inside without waking up his father (he briefly wondered how Finn would manage to do that after dropping the others off, but Finn, unlike Blaine, was sober and coherent).
“You know,” Blaine’s voice snapped Kurt out of his thoughts, “you’d be Artemis.”
Thoroughly confused didn’t describe how Kurt felt at first. “…what?”
“Artemis,” he repeated, sounding tired. “She’s the Greek goddess of beauty and love.”
Kurt was unsure as to where this was coming from, or if it was the alcohol talking or Blaine, just with liquid courage. He smiled at what Blaine was trying to say, thankful it was dark, because the blush on his cheeks must’ve been strong. He opened his mouth to say something, but Blaine cut him off.
“Wait, no, Athena. Aphrodite is the goddess of beauty,” he nodded, as if in agreement with himself. “Artemis is the goddess of the moon. But the moon is beautiful, too.” Blaine rolled on his side, facing Kurt, one of his fingers pulling on the belt loop on the side of Kurt’s pants playfully. “You’re beautiful, Kurt.”
His jaw fell open, the color on his face past every shade of red he could possibly think of (which was a lot). “Let’s get you inside,” he said, getting to his feet.
Getting Blaine up to his room proved to be a difficult task, but nothing Kurt Hummel couldn’t do. Blaine fell onto the bed, exclaiming muffled phrases of how comfortable it was into the sheets. Kurt worked on pulling Blaine’s shoes off his feet as the drunk boy continued his talk of the Greek gods and what they represented. Kurt wasn’t really listening, but he liked just hearing Blaine’s voice as he rambled about something he obviously had a hidden passion about.
“…and then there’s you, Kurt. Some stories say that Aphrodite was the daughter of Zeus and Dione. But the other theory that’s actually kinda ironic is that she came from the sea foam that formed in the ocean where Uranus’ castrated dick was thrown.”
Blaine was grinning madly and giggling at the color that returned to Kurt’s face, and it only got worse as Kurt’s blush did when Blaine decided to grab Kurt’s collar and tug, their faces ending up inches apart.
“You really are pretty, Kurt,” he said softly, weaving both hands into Kurt’s hair. “Like, really pretty.”
“Blaine, you’re drunk,” Kurt mumbled, being able to smell the alcohol on Blaine’s breath.
“Dionysus,” he replied. “God of wine and ecstasy.” He rubbed his nose against Kurt’s. Suddenly, the goofy smile turned into a warm one, and he seemed to be in a much more sure state of mind. “I really do like you, Kurt. But you’re Aphrodite, and I’m just a common peasant. That’s how it’ll always be,” he murmured, a sad tone notable in his voice.
Kurt wasn’t sure why he did it, because he was sure Blaine wouldn’t remember it in the morning (or maybe that is why he did it), but he did it anyways. He craned his neck a little bit so that he could softly kiss Blaine.
It wasn’t drunken tonsil hockey. It was close-mouthed, tender, and sweet.
Kurt was the one to pull away, a small smile on his face. He gently pushed Blaine back against the bed. “Go to sleep,” he said quietly. Blaine didn’t fight, and managed to find his way curled under the covers. When he heard the older boy’s slow breathing, Kurt wondered if he could convince Blaine to educate him again in Greek mythology sometime soon.