In My Veins

I'd Do Anything

The assignment was due the following month. Time seemed to sweep swiftly by and Kurt and Blaine were a lot more at ease with one another. They met twice a week at the library and Blaine didn't seem to threaten Kurt as much as he had done in the first couple of weeks. He still treated him like crap at school and sometimes out of school, but it was progress.

Or maybe not, since Blaine didn't really want to be nice to him. At the same time, however, he did and it was senseless and stupid, but it was also a fact. He denied it every day, but they had developed some form of indirect friendship. Kurt was sort of nice to him sometimes, even though he treated him like garbage. Most of the time he looked at him like he was better than him and Blaine wasn't used to that. There was something about Kurt that both intrigued and frustrated Blaine simultaneously. He still couldn't figure out why he was so intrigued by him, but he was.

"I think we're done," Kurt said, scanning his blue eyes across the essay for the umpteenth time. "And we're a week early," he smiled, pleased with the work they had done.

Blaine smiled, then frowned when he realised their weekly meetings were going to come to a stop for a little while, until the next assignment was given out. He guessed he sort of liked spending time with Kurt. He would never tell anyone that, but Kurt was kind of funny and he didn't feel as if he had to play tough guy as much around him. Sure, he had to send a few insults his way and put him down in order to keep the bully/victim policy in tact, but Kurt didn't look at him like he expected anything of him. Blaine friends, Puck and Karofsky and the others, they looked to him to instigate almost everything, they looked to him for answers, looked to him when they needed a leader. Blaine was sort of tired of that.

"So, um," Blaine stammered a little bit. "Since this assignment was on cultural context, I'm betting the next one is on theme. We could get started early?" he offered, hopefully, much to his own chagrin.

Kurt laid the essay down and raised his cyan eyes to meet Blaine's. Blaine was sort of distracted by what Kurt was wearing. He always dressed so elaborately. His sweater was—Blaine wasn't even sure what it was. It was all colours and shapes and must have been hell to get into. He wore skin tight jeans and black combat boots. Blaine wondered how Kurt managed to walk in those jeans. He was forever wearing them.

"Blaine, we have lots of time to start the next one," Kurt reasoned.

Blaine sighed and sat back, regretting it the moment he did it. Why did he want to spend time with Kurt anyway? It was ridiculous. He had friends. He didn't need Kurt.

"So, there's this party on Sunday," Blaine found himself saying. It was too late to take it back now. "I know you're sort of—not making any, you know, friends around here."

It was true. Blaine sometimes saw Kurt sitting across the canteen by himself, eating carrot sticks, head bowed and avoiding eye contact with anyone. Sometimes he felt like standing up from his place at the 'cool table' and walking across to sit with him. Most of the time, Kurt's conversation was far more interesting than anything his friends had to say.

"I was thinking you could come—go," Blaine went on. "If you wanted."

Kurt's eyes were wide, his face a mask of confusion. Blaine felt himself flushing madly. Why did he have to go and say something like that?

"I don't do parties," Kurt shook his head.

"Ever?"

"Never."

Blaine couldn't remember a time when there had been a party he hadn't gone to.

"Make an exception," Blaine shrugged.

"Why?"

Good question. Blaine couldn't have told him why, because he didn't know the answer. He regained his composure then rattled off an excuse.