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Cobwebs, Carrot Sticks and Half Chewed Erasers

By skwirelygurli

Romance

Cobwebs, Carrot Sticks and Half Chewed Erasers

Cobwebs, Carrot Sticks and Half Chewed Erasers; a Glee oneshot

I do not own Glee. Klaine requests and reviews are welcome!

Why does he keep getting himself into these situations?

These situations where he tells himself it's okay to be just friends.

Friends hug. They hold hands. They kiss each other's cheeks and go out at night. They stay in together.

But-

Do friends hold each other and never let go because they're afraid they'll lose the person in their arms?

Do friends rub their thumb over the back of each other's hand and let their lips linger?

Do friends bury their face in each other's chest because the movie has gotten too scary when Finn thought it'd be fun to have a horror movie fest?

Sure, best friends do.

But do best friends wake up at three in the morning, sweating from a hot dream they had about the other? Or crying because they dreamt the other had died in their arms as they said I do?

Probably not.

At least, not platonic best friends.

And sure, best friends can call at three in the morning. They can hear each other's voice and know that they're still there, even if they are miles away. Miles away, packing to come to New York.

Where they will move in. Into the apartment with two bedrooms, and two beds.

It'd be rude to make Blaine sleep on the couch.

Best friends can share a bed, right?

And they can surprise each other when they show up at their front door, volunteering to help pack.

He's not so sure if best friends are allowed to ogle at the way their shirt rides up when they bend down to pick up their shoes.

He risks it anyway.

Six months.

It has been six months since they agreed to be friends.

Six months of calls and texts and Skype and weekend visits.

Six months of being together, yet not.

He needs to fix this.

*K*B*

They move to his room to decide what to pack.

It's humid out. The June air is hot and thick, and the sweat slides down Blaine's face. He wipes it with a towel.

Kurt feels sticky. He pulls his shirt away from his chest.

"We probably should have gotten the boxes out first," he observes. Folded piles of clothes are scattered on the bed. Movies and books line the floor.

Blaine steps around a stack of books. "Yeah. I can go get them."

Kurt offers to help.

When they end up in the attic, he starts to question his decision.

"What are we doing up here?" He brushes a cobweb out of his face. It sticks to his hand, and he tries to shake it off. Blaine takes the sweat towel out of his back pocket.

He wipes the cobweb off his hand.

"This is where we store the boxes."

"Oh." He ducks to dodge another cobweb.

"Sorry. We don't clean up here too often." Blaine leans down to pick up some empty boxes. His shirt rides up again.

Kurt swallows. It was as if he had woken up this morning, and said to himself, 'I think I'll wear this old shirt, because I've outgrown it, and I know it'll drive Kurt crazy. Even though we're just friends and I hadn't been expecting him to show up at all.'

Focus. He needs to focus.

"No worries." He picks up the other group of boxes. "Though I'll probably need a shower after this."

Blaine sets his boxes down, kneeling in front of a trunk. He brushes off the dust. The hinges creek as he opens it.

He grabs a stuffed hippo. It's nose is dirty, and it's left arm is patched. "I always did have a thing for blue eyes."

Kurt sets his boxes next to his. The hippo's bright eyes barely peek out from underneath its beanie hat.

"Is this all your old stuff?" The chest is filled with childhood relics. Blankets and toys and whatnot.

"Mine and Coop's. I had forgotten this was up here."

He sets the hippo in his box and shuts the trunk. They carry the boxes downstairs.

The hippo gets sat up in the chair.

"Is the hippo coming to New York?"

"Well, I'm going to need someone to protect me from all the dangers of New York. Hubert's a pretty tough hippo."

"Hubert?"

"I was five, Kurt." He piles shirts into the largest box.

In another box, Kurt starts packing the DVDs. "He's cute."

For a few beats, the only noise is the Rent soundtrack playing in the background.

Kurt takes the risk.

"Y'know, I could protect you." He folds the box flaps closed.

"I know."

The final box has enough space for the hippo. It's a little spot, and he'd be nice and secure.

Blaine starts to shut the box.

"What about Hubert?" Kurt lifts him up to sit down and sets him on his lap.

His face gets close. So close that if he blinks, his eyelashes are going to hit Kurt's face. So close that he does blink, and they do hit his face.

It tickles.

"I trust you far more than a stuffed hippo."

Kurt wishes he had some witty remark. But Blaine is so close he can't think straight. He closes his eyes. He feels his breath on his face, his hand gliding up his arm.

The hippo falling off his lap.

He opens his eyes.

He wishes he hadn't, because the moment breaks, and Blaine is pulling away. He bends down to grab the hippo.

This shirt is going to be the death of him.

"You hungry?" he asks, setting Hubert on the bed.

Kurt looks at the clock. It's too early for dinner, but his stomach is growling. "Sure."

Blaine offers his hand. He takes it, and stands up.

He doesn't let go.

They have to squeeze together to get through the doorway. It'd be easier to let go, but they don't.

Kurt calls this progress.

He also calls it ridiculous, because their palms are sweaty and Blaine smells way to good for someone who was up in a dusty attic this morning.

"You have a choice. There's the leftover veggie platter or a bag of melted M&Ms. My parents haven't had a chance to pick up groceries since their soiree." He pulls his head out of the fridge.

"We could go get groceries." His stomach growls.

Blaine pokes him. "I don't think your stomach can wait."

"Good point." He leans over Blaine, who is still in the fridge doorway, and takes out the veggie platter. He sets it on the counter.

Blaine shuts the door. He grabs an old envelope from the mail pile and a pencil.

He dips a celery stick in the hummus.

"What to get?" he wonders aloud.

"Well, since you're leaving in two days, it'll be more of a list for your parents than you." Kurt crunches down on a carrot stick.

Blaine nods. "I'll need snacks for the drive there."

Kurt grabs another carrot. "You're driving there?"

"My dad is taking me actually. He thinks it'll be easier than mailing all of my boxes."

"Has your dad seen New York City traffic?"

He nods as he swallows. "But once he makes up his mind there's no changing it."

Kurt stretches across the table to reach the matchstick peppers. His shirt rides up, on purpose.

How's it feel to be on the other end of things Blaine Anderson?

He catches him looking. How he's quick to avert his eyes and stuff a cucumber slice in his mouth.

Success.

"Milk," he states.

"Milk?"

"For your list." Kurt reaches for another matchstick pepper.

Blaine busies himself with writing it down.

"They'll need bread too. And some deli meat. My dad loves his sandwiches." He doesn't look up until he is sure Kurt is seated back in his chair. He turns the platter.

Kurt decides he wants a carrot stick. And this time he honestly does, and he's not trying to tease him. He tugs his shirt down.

Blaine looks down at the list. He doesn't lift his eyes, even when he knows Kurt is back on his chair. "We still need to figure out my snack."

"Like what?" he asks.

"I don't know. Something that won't melt in this heat."

He reaches for a celery stick. Kurt picks one up for him, but it gets dropped on the table when he goes to hand it to him. He picks up the pencil and bites down on it.

"Um, Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"That's your pencil." He tugs it from his mouth.

Blaine blushes. "Oops."

Kurt just laughs.

*K*B*

Rachel opens the door to the apartment. "You're here!"

"Who's here?" Kurt asks from the kitchen. "Is it Blaine?"

He sets his oven mitts on the counter and reaches for his apron strings.

"Let me get that for you," a low voice whispers in his ear.

Kurt doesn't give him the chance. He turns around and hugs him.

He'd never let go, but a cough separates them. "Where do you want these boxes son?"

"Um-"

"You can just set them down here Mr. Anderson. We'll take care of everything from here," Rachel orders.

He sets them next to the other two boxes Blaine has abandoned.

"Your mother and I will come visit in a couple weeks to see how you're adjusting, alright?" He clasps his hand over his son's shoulder.

"Of course. And I'll call and write when I can," he promises. His father awkwardly pats his shoulder. They don't hug.

He steps out, and Rachel closes the door behind him.

"So we cleared a section for you to put your clothes, and your movies will go with the rest of them and-"

"Rachel, he just got here. Let him relax first, would you?" Kurt slings an arm around his shoulder.

She picks up a box. "Right, right. I'll just move these boxes out of the way so Brody doesn't trip over them when he comes home."

She walks away, and then it's just the two of them again.

"Welcome to New York." He loops his other arm around his neck.

"Thanks." Blaine steps closer to Kurt, wrapping his arms around his waist.

Best friends can hug and share apartments.

But best friends can't lean in, close their eyes and feel their lips connect.

And best friends can't be caught by a screaming Rachel Berry, who cannot manage to muffle her shouts behind her hand.

"It's about time. Kurt's been wanting to do that for ages now."

He blushes. "Rachel!"

"He's not the only one," Blaine confesses.

"Aww."

"Weren't you moving the boxes?" Kurt asks.

She pouts, lifting another box. "Fine. I'll just be over here, adding his DVDs to the collection."

It's obvious that she's watching them, but he doesn't care.

Kurt leans back in and kisses him anyway.

*K*B*

After dinner with Rachel and Brody, they head into their bedroom.

"What is that?" Blaine sits on the edge of the bed.

"Not a what. Who." Kurt sits next to him. He picks up the hippo. "I thought of all people, you'd remember Hubert."

Blaine presses up against him. "You took him? I thought you said you'd put him away while I cleaned up our snack."

"I did. I packed him right into that final box. Rachel must've took him out when she brought the boxes in."

"Kurt."

"That's not all." He curls behind him and lifts his pillow.

Blaine takes the second hippo that's being held out to him. It's wearing a top hat. "Who's this?"

"This is Huxley."

"And you made fun of the name Hubert?"

"You inspired me." Kurt seats Hubert so the hippos are toe to toe.

Blaine pushes Huxley's head forward.

"I think Huxley likes Hubert."

"I think Hubert likes Huxley too." Kurt pushes the other hippo's head forward.

Brody sticks his head through the doorway. "Are you two really using stuffed hippos to sort out your feelings for each other?"

"Boys, we're going out. We'll be back late." Rachel winks and grabs a hold of her boyfriend's arm.

The door closes and Blaine looks at the hippos in his lap.

"Hubert thinks Blaine likes Kurt."

"Huxley thinks Kurt likes Blaine."

The hippos end up on the floor that night.

Underneath Kurt's shirt, like their own little blanket.

There is no way their just best friends.

As if there was ever any doubt.

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