Going for Broke

Chapter 4

Blaine actually shows up at 4:54 on the following Friday, and spends a few minutes on the doorstep wondering if he should knock or not—maybe Kurt needs those six extra minutes, after all—before a voice from behind makes him practically slip down the stairs.

"Are you going to move now, hobbit, or do I need to endz you?"

Blaine turns around quickly only to find himself face to face with Santana, who's standing there with her hand on her hip and murderous expression.

"Well?" She takes a step closer, narrowing her eyes.

Blaine blinks and moves to the side. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I'm sorry."

"Whatevs." She strides up to the door and tries the doorknob. It doesn't budge.

"Shit," she hisses, before slamming her gloved hand against the wood several times. "Hummel! Open the damn door!"

Blaine stares upwards when one of the windows on the second story creaks open and Kurt sticks his head out. "Oh my God, Santana, either shut up or remember to bring your friggin' key next time!" His head is wrapped in a towel, and it looks like he's wearing some sort of threadbare bathrobe. His expression softens when his eyes alight on Blaine. "Hey there! You're early! I'll be down in one sec, alright?"

Blaine nods, but Santana throws her arms up in the air in exasperation. "Would you just let me in, Kurt?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." Kurt disappears for a moment before poking his head back out and tossing something small and silver down onto the front step, right at Santana's feet. "That's mine though, so give it back or I will murder you."

"Right," she says. "Thanks." He rolls his eyes and shuts the window.

Santana reaches down for the key and jiggles it into the lock. After a few tries, it turns, and she shoves herself against the door to make it open. She stumbles a few steps into the hall and turns back to stare at Blaine. "Well, are you coming?"

"Oh...yeah..." He rushes in after her and closes the door. Santana is already kicking off her shoes as she walks down the hallway, leaving the beat-up things lying in the middle of the floor. Blaine stomps his feet a few times to clear off the snow, and wonders if he should take his own shoes off. He never has before, and he's 99.8 percent sure his socks today are the ugly grey ones with holes, so he decides to keep the shoes on and follows Santana. The hallway looks different, today, and Blaine realizes that there are several new paintings on the walls now overlapping the old ones—intricately detailed scenes of elves and fairies and dragons that look like something straight out of a storybook. Blaine had never imagined fantasy would be Kurt's preferred style, but then, he doesn't really know Kurt well enough to be able to predict him. He moves from the hallway into the living room area. It's cleaner than usual—no paint, no brushes, no canvas, and even the stains on the floor seem to be missing. The lights are all on, and there's a pot bubbling on the element in the kitchen. Santana slides over across the floor into the kitchen, slaps the key down on the counter-top and screams, "Hummel! I'm putting your key on the counter!"

"Thank you!" Kurt's voice comes from upstairs. "I'll be down in a minute!"

Santana begins to pull off her jacket. "Well, be faster! I'm sure as hell not gonna entertain your boy toy!"

"Can you check to see if the pasta is doing alright?"

"How much more time do you need to pluck your eyebrows?"

"Can you check to see if the pasta is doing alright?"

She moves to the oven to peer into the pot, picks up the wooden spoon from the counter, and gives it a few experimental stirs. "Looks fine," she calls.