Halfway to Nowhere (1/?), Kurt/Blaine, PG

Title: Halfway to Nowhere
Author: sailorraspberry
Chapter Rating: PG
Overall Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Word Count: ~2,000
Summary: It's not the ideal vacation, but Kurt's willing to accept the excuse to escape the pressing hold of Lima. It's a simple family getaway to the new lake house, except it's everything but.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: AU. Blaine is approximately two years older than Kurt. Eventual drugs, alcohol, and sex.
Author Notes: This is something new, and has gone through a lot of trial runs. So, fingers crossed for good outcomes.

The late summer weather was at its prime, blistering heat and cloudless blue skies as the truck rumbled noisily over the cobblestone road. Kurt’s backseat window was rolled down halfway, letting in a whipping, mussing breeze, and he tapped his foot lazily along with the music playing from the one bud wrapped around the shell of his ear. The latest edition of Vogue sat open on his lap, a few pages sometimes getting caught in the wind and flipping over onto his hand.

“There’re five bedrooms, so there’s plenty of room. And it’s got a boathouse with our very own rowboat. And it’s got the most gorgeous view of the lake. You can see straight through to the other side.” Carole was gushing, face glowing and feet propped up on the dashboard. “Oh, tell them, Burt. Tell them about the-”

“Carole, sweetheart,” Burt winked at Kurt in the review mirror, “why don’t we let the boys discover everything for themselves. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Oh, I know, I know. Sorry. I’m such a spoilsport.” She twisted around in her seat, wrapped up tight by her seatbelt, to look at Finn and Kurt. “You two are going to fall in love.”

Kurt smiled at her and spoke for himself and for Finn. “Carole, I’m sure it’s absolutely darling.”

The comment appeased her enough to will her back forward, and Kurt refocused onto his magazine. The vacation was necessary – Finn had just finished up the football camp he had been volunteering at and Congress had just gone on their break, so Burt had an excess amount of free time – but Kurt would much rather spend his time lounging on the couch than lounging with nature.

He hadn’t complained, however, because his dad had just put a down payment on this mysterious house and Carole was so thrilled with the idea of a lakeside getaway that she had slipped Kurt her debit card and requested his wardrobe assistance.

Besides, he figured since Lima was so entertainingly outdated, maybe a little break from his hometown eyesore would do him so good.

“And, one more turn...” Burt flipped on the blinker- which was unnecessary, considering they were the only moving vehicle within a twenty mile radius- and made a shallow turn into a clearing. “We’re here.”

Carol was the first out of the truck, tripping in her sandals across the grass and already laughing while Finn was close on her heels.

Kurt, blinking dazedly after them, tugged the bud off his ear and unhooked his seatbelt. “Dad...”

Burt came around the truck to stand proudly next to his son. “Ain’t it something, kid?”

It was certainly something. The ground faded slowly away into damp dirt until it hit crystal blue water a little farther down, framed by a thousand towering green oaks. The house, wood with tall, sun-stained windows and weatherworn gutters, was nestled gently between a cluster of trees. There was a deck, perched on thick, sturdy stilts, with stairs that dropped off on the far side of the house. Sunbeams leaked through crisscrossed leaves overhead, leaving little golden, dancing lights slanting across the ground.

It was achingly beautiful, and Kurt suddenly understood why Carole had fallen so head over heels for it.

Burt nudged him with an elbow. “Help me with the bags?”

Kurt nodded mutely, shutting the door behind him and heading to the trailer attached to the back of the truck.

-

It was half past five when Carole started dinner and Burt had convinced Finn to help pull the weeds out of the garden. Kurt lifted an eyebrow, sitting up on the island counter in the kitchen, whisking a yellow batter Carole had just handed off to him and watching as they trounced off.

“Have fun,” Kurt said lightly, smirking, and Finn shot a glare over his shoulder before the screen door slammed shut behind them.

Carole grinned at him as she waltzed over to get a cutting board from a cabinet. “Is chicken caesar salad alright for tonight? I figured we go light on the food and maybe make sundaes for desert.”

“As long as you’ve got maraschino cherries, I’m in.” He hopped off the counter, dipping his finger into the batter, tasting. “Cake mix? What for?”

Carole, having already set work to chopping the lettuce, elbowed him lightly in the ribs when he deposited the bowl on the counter beside her. “No touching. And it’s for the neighbors. To say hello. I was thinking some nice, fresh cupcakes.”

Kurt nodded slowly. “That’s really sweet, Carole,” he pulled open the compartment under the stove to get the cupcake pan, “but aren’t we the new folk around here? I think you’ve got the protocol backwards.”

“Eh, well,” she swept the salad into a bowl, “then, we introduce ourselves. Nice and friendly.”

Kurt was the first to laugh, and Carole didn’t hesitate to join in as they stood side by side, comfortable and content in silence.

-

It started with a light, distant tapping sound, nicking through the hazy sheet of sleep that Kurt was wrapped up in. His eyebrows furrowed, unconsciously confused, so he rolled over and buried his head under his pillow.

Sweet, blissful silence.

He sighed, settling back into a hollow cloud of sleep with feet hanging over the end of the mattress.

A hammer, loud and thumping, jerking Kurt into a further state of awake.

He growled, reaching and grappling for the bedside table to get his phone. The room was blanketed in warm honeydew sunlight, and the time was only six-thirty.

A bird sang sweetly outside his open window, balanced on the branch of a tree that reached just into view, ruffling its tiny black wings.

He rolled over onto his back and stretched, mewling a little bit as a joint cracked in his spine.

It was a chainsaw that sent him over the edge, screeching loud and sending the little bird skittering away with an undignified screech.

“Are you serious.” Kurt felt his entire face pulling into a tight, unhappy scowl. He still needed another half hour of beauty sleep, and that was the thought that had him kicking back his sheets.

Kurt stomped down the stairs, sporting nothing but boxer briefs and an oversized baseball tee and the frown he wore so well.

Burt saw him first from where he was relaxed into the new recliner in the room adjacent to the kitchen, lifting an eyebrow at him over his mug of coffee. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Kurt stopped, fists finding the narrow curve of his waist. “Do you have sugar in that?”

Burt’s eyebrow went up again.

“Is Finn up?”

“Not yet,” Burt said carefully, but Kurt was already stomping to the kitchen, where Carole was arranging the cupcakes on a dish.

“Those still for the neighbors?” Kurt asked, and Carole looked up at him, frowning a little when she saw him.

“Why the angry face, kiddo?” She reached over the counter to thumb over his chin, then, registering his question, “Yeah. Just finished up with the icing. I was about to walk them over because-”

“-they’re inconsiderate little jerks who like to wake the world at an ungodly hour of the morning with a chainsaw?” Kurt walked around to the kitchen entrance to get at the coffeepot. “I’ll walk them over, Carole. I’d like to say hello.”

Carole’s face twisted up into a weird half-smile, swallowing down the laughter Kurt could already hear gathering into her throat. “Alright, sweetie. Be nice.”

Kurt harrumphed, drowning his simmering annoyance in fresh Colombian brew.

-

That was how Kurt found himself picking his way through grass and trees and twigs, wearing Finn’s sandals and balancing the tray of treats carefully in two hands. He had been smart enough to retreat back upstairs for a pair of sweatpants, because really, nobody was very intimidating in blue striped boxer briefs.

The neighboring house was easily seen from their deck. It wasn’t that far of a walk, and the helpful sound of chainsaw was providing plenty of guidance.

“Obnoxious,” Kurt muttered, and he broke through into a clearing, very similar to theirs, except maybe the lot was a little bigger, better tamed, shiny and bright. And because he was a little prickled, he stomped across the grass instead of following the path to the unlatched back gate.

“Hello?” He knocked but, knowing it was useless against the ruckus of the chainsaw, let himself through.

Except then, there was barking and freshly cut grass kicking up under big paws as Kurt stumbled backwards and a floppy-eared hound bounded across the yard.

The chainsaw stopped and a name was shouted out with a command- “Lexie! Heel!”

The dog, Lexie, skittered immediately, butt dropping to the ground, but she was still growling, shiny white canines bore.

Kurt stood, frozen, clutching onto the cupcakes and staring wide-eyed down at the dog.

“Sorry about that, ignore her.”

Kurt’s eyes immediately lifted to the voice, rich and thick like honey, and then he stared, jaw snapping shut.

A boy, maybe Kurt’s age, maybe a little older, wiped a towel over his forehead and flung it over his bare shoulder, squinting against the sun and smiling wide. “Her bark's a lot bigger than her bite, don’t worry.”

He was startlingly beautiful, lush in the lips and broad in the shoulders with golden, sun-kissed skin and loose, cropped curls. Cargo shorts riding low and strong, curving calves with dark, curling leg hair.

Startlingly, dazzlingly beautiful, and suddenly Kurt was blushing cherry red.

“Can I help you with something?” He ran a hand through his hair, sweating from his hairline to the hollow of his collarbone and down along his bare chest. “Do you need directions back to the highway?”

Kurt, blinking hard, thrust out his hand and started walking forward. “Uhm, sorry, I’m Kurt Hummel. My dad just bought the house next to yours. We made you cupcakes.”

“Blaine Anderson,” the boy responded carefully, grasping Kurt’s hand in a shake, quick and short. “Shouldn’t we be the ones making you cupcakes?”

Kurt’s laughter stuttered out, awkward and uncomfortable, and he cringed inwardly at the sound of it. “Yeah, yeah, I know. My step-mom’s always wanting to say hello.”

Blaine offered a small, lopsided grin as Kurt pressed the plate into his hands. Then, gold eyes skittering down Kurt’s body, he said, “I didn’t wake you, did I? My dad always sends me up here a couple days early to cut firewood and spruce up the yard.”

“No! No, don’t worry,” Kurt laughed again, a little more natural, and Blaine smiled at him. Kurt’s breath snagged a bit at it, and he couldn’t help when his voice dropped into a whisper. “No worries.”

“Good.” Blaine’s eyes skimmed over him again, calculating. “It was nice meeting you.”

Kurt smiled at him, staring a little, “Yeah.” Then, snapping out of it. “Yeah! Definitely. You too.” Lexie was rolling around in the grass behind Blaine. “See you around, I guess.”

Blaine lifted the cupcake plate a little in farewell, and Kurt turned sharply on his heel.

But Blaine’s voice stopped him.

“If you ever need any help, you know, getting used to the place, I’m always here to help.”

Kurt’s heart skipped a dangerous beat.

Blaine continued. “You know. The trails and the lake and all. It can get a bit twisted up if you don’t pay close attention. So, uh, just let me know.”

Kurt turned back to face him but continued to retreat, slow and careful as he blindly picked his way across the yard. “Uhm. I’ll think about it.” Wincing, quickly correcting, “I mean. I’ll be around, probably. Definitely.”

Blaine gave him a strange look, grin spreading slow, and Kurt hoped he didn’t notice that he hurried out as fast as he could.

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