Love, A Simple Duty

"Thou wouldst be loved?- then let thy heart
     From its present pathway part not!
Being everything which now thou art,
     Be nothing which thou art not.
So with the world thy gentle ways,
     Thy grace, thy more than beauty,
Shall be an endless theme of praise,
     And love- a simple duty."

Blaine, lying on his stomach, rested his chin on his hand and looked down at the page of the book of poetry lazily. The book lay open on the naked back of Kurt, a few rays of sun filtering in and illuminating his pale skin.

"You should never stop reading poetry," sighed Kurt, clutching the pillow and his head turned toward Blaine. "You can make those boring words sound interesting."

"Poe's words are hardly boring, sir," commented Blaine, turning a page absently. Blaine's hand fell from the page and onto Kurt's skin, his fingers languidly tracing patters down his back, raising goosebumps on the boy's milky skin.

Blaine loved the mornings that he and Kurt could wake up together in the same bed, talking and reading together, or on more than one occasion, continuing actions of the pervious night into early afternoon. The days that Kurt's father and new stepmother were out of town on some sort of business and Kurt's stepbrother Finn stole away to Miss Berry's home for the night as well. Blaine moved the book from Kurt's back and threw it on the ground behind him. Leaning over, his sheet slipping lower on his torso, he kissed the spot in between Kurt's shoulder blades, making him shudder.

"I love you," Blaine whispered. The very words could only say behind closed doors, where only Kurt could hear them. The words that he wish he could say while holding Kurt's hand in the park, or at one of his father's gala dinners.

"I love you," Kurt replied softly, twisting in the sheet as well and pulling Blaine's face down to his, their lips meeting in a searing kiss.

From downstairs, the large grandfather clock in Kurt's family room rang out twelve times, causing Kurt to break the kiss with a sigh. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his hand resting on Blaine's cheek. "They'll be back soon. And your family will be expecting you soon."

Blaine sighed, the air fanning Kurt's hair back slightly. "You're right." He grabbed Kurt's hand, brushing his lips across the soft knuckles.

Kurt was the first out of bed, slipping into his trousers, then shirt. He was buttoning his vest when Blaine said, almost absently, "Kurt - do you think there will be a day when we can hold hands in public? When we could…get married?"

Kurt stopped at the second to last button on his crème colored vest. His aqua eyes found Blaine's hazel ones, with more sadness than Blaine could bear to see in them. "If that day ever does come, Blaine," said Kurt, his voice breaking. "I don't think I will be alive to see it." He picked up his navy blue suit jacket from the ground, where it had been hastily thrown earlier last night, and shrug his arms into it.

"Why do you dismiss it so easily?" asked Blaine, swinging his legs over the large bed and picking up his own articles of clothing.

"You know what the church says about us, Blaine," said Kurt, almost angrily. "I attend it every Sunday, just as you do, and week after week we are told that two men lying together in bed is wrong. If we were to come out as homosexual, we could be killed, Blaine. I would love to live in your world, of rainbows and good things, but I don't. I live in a small town in 1881, where you are expected to marry a nice girl and make lots of babies."

Kurt sat on a chair near his wardrobe, his eyes following Blaine as he clumsily put on his clothes. He sighed once, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was rude."

"Rude, maybe," said Blaine, walking over to his lover, kneeling in front of him and taking his hand. His shirt still wasn't buttoned and his hair was probably a mess, something he should fix before traveling back home. "But you're right, I suppose. I wish you weren't, but you are."

Kurt and Blaine were silent for a long moment, until Kurt opened his eyes again, sparkling with tears. "What if my dad expects me to marry soon, Blaine? Miss Brittany S. Pierce has been over for dinner on more than one occasion. She may be a…loose woman, but a woman none-the-less. What if my dad is setting something up with her father?"

Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's hand. "We'll get through that if the time comes," he said calmly. "Isn't Miss Pierce involved, on occasion, with Miss Lopez?" he said, raising his eyebrow.

"Yes, but they are rumors. No one can prove that." Kurt sighed. "And people mostly ignore it and push it under a rug."

"Kurt, I love you," said Blaine suddenly. "And I won't let anyone take you from me, even a woman." Blaine chuckled and kissed Kurt's cheek tenderly, then he stood and continued to dress.

"You could stay for something to eat," said Kurt as they walked down the stairs, their hair put back together from the long night.

"I won't impose," said Blaine. "And though I am your best friend, I don't want your father or Carole to get suspicious. I've been over when they return from long trips many times."

Kurt frowned and looked down at the ornate rug in the entry. "I think my dad already knows…"

Blaine started, looking at Kurt with wide eyes. "Are you certain?"

Kurt shrugged. "I can't know for sure unless I ask him, of course. But I feel like he knows…" Kurt sighed and shrugged again. "I don't know."

"But he doesn't seem…angry?" asked Blaine, holding Kurt's hand loosely.

"I don't believe he is."

"That's surprising," said Blaine. He sighed and grabbed his hat from the coat rack, placing it on his head. "I'll see you back at Dalton, I suppose. I love you." Blaine kissed Kurt one more time before opening the front door and rushing down the stairs. He turned when he got to the Hummel's gate and waved at Kurt, who was still standing in the doorframe, frowning.

Blaine had walked to Kurt's house instead of taking his family's transportation. He supposed he could flag down one of the public carriages, as his house wasn't exactly close to Kurt's house, but he wanted time to think.

Blaine spent a little over an hour walk back to his house thinking and dreaming up a world where he and Kurt could be happy together, publicly. He would marry Kurt in a heartbeat if he could. Cement their love on paper and spiritually. He wondered if they would adopt a child. Grow old together.

In the end, Blaine arrived back at his home, a large one near the edge of town, somewhat depressed. He opened the front door and stole into the home as quiet as possible.

"Mr. Anderson, I see you're back late," said the Anderson's house keeper, Marie. She had an accusing frown on her face.

Blaine smiled back, as charmingly as possible. "Hello, Marie. I was just at Kurt's house last night. It was late and I felt like I shouldn't be walking home. I hope I didn't worry you. I did leave a note of where I would be."

"I received it," she said, still frowning. "I think you should go up and change. Perhaps clean up a bit. Your father is expecting company tonight and you should look like you didn't spend the night in a brothel, young man."

Blaine flushed. Apparently had hadn't fixed his appearance enough for Marie. He couldn't think of a good excuse, so instead he hurried up the stairs to his room. He was in the process of picking clean clothes form his wardrobe when he realized he had left his book of poems at Kurt's house. Blaine sighed and took a fleeting look at the telephone he had in his room, then thought better. Kurt's parents would be home by now. He would pick up his book some other time, or Kurt would see it and give it to him at school tomorrow.

…..

Once Kurt watched Blaine disappear around the corner, pass the few people milling around outside, he shut the door and sighed. He climbed back up the stairs and to his room, frowning at the state of his bed. Somehow, most of his pillows had fallen to the ground and the only cover still on the bed was the sheets.

Blushing, Kurt began to make up the bed to a decent state. He was on Blaine's side of the bed when he almost tripped over something. He leaned down and picked up that silly book of poetry that Blaine carried with him almost everywhere. He rolled his eyes and sat it on top of his school things; he would return it at school tomorrow.

Once his bedroom was in a decent state, Kurt cleaned up and changed his clothes. Sometime when he was getting dressed, he heard the front door open and close.

"Kurt?" came Finn's voice, pounding up the stairs.

"In my room, Finn," said Kurt, sitting in front of his mirror to do his hair.

"Oh hey," said Finn. "You keep yourself busy last night when I was gone? Sorry to leave you like that."

Kurt tried to keep his blush at bay. Thought Blaine and he had been together for over a year, secretly of course, and their physical relationship had been going on for many months now, he still couldn't quite get used to it. "Yes. I kept busy. How was Rachel?"

"Well," said Finn.

"I hope you didn't do anything that your mother would frown upon - we don't need another incident like the one with Miss Fabray."

About a year and a half ago, Quinn Fabray had caused quite a scandal. She had been in a courtship with Finn, though it wasn't quite so serious yet, but had ended up with child. At first, she had been trying to blame Finn, but it turned out that Noah Puckerman, a boy with a shady reputation for seducing the married women in the town, was the true father.

At first, Quinn was going to be sent away to a home for unwed mothers, but she was taken in by the Jones family, under the wing of Kurt's best friend Mercedes. Though they didn't have much, being a family of color, Quinn seemed happy there. When she had her child, she gave the girl up for adoption and the issue had been forgotten.

Finn had blushed at Kurt's words. "You know Rachel wouldn't let me do anything like that. Her caretakers wouldn't allow it either. I slept in the guest room."

Rachel had probably been a case similar to that of young Quinn. She had been adopted by Hiram Berry, an unwed man that wanted a child to care for. Tom Johnson was a close friend of Hiram since they were young, and moved in to help care for the girl with him.

Of course, the rumor around town was that Hiram and Tom were homosexuals, a rumor that Kurt himself knew to be true. Rachel had confided that in him early in their strained friendship. Kurt had not worked up the courage to talk to the two men, like Rachel had suggested (she said she knew he wasn't like all the other boys, and in fact reminded her of her fathers, which is what she called them behind closed doors).

Kurt wondered idly if he should tell Blaine about Rachel's fathers. He was sure Blaine would take comfort in what they had made of their lives. Obviously, it was far from the public display of love that Blaine had in his dreaming head, but it was something.

"Yes well, that is the respectful thing to do," said Kurt absently.

"Did Blaine stay over last night?" asked Finn, leaning on the door frame. He was so tall, his head almost touched the top.

Kurt fumbled for a moment, before nodding. "Yes, he did. We had homework and it ended late."

"Hmm," was all Finn said.

"Your mom and my dad will be home soon," said Kurt. "Maybe you should go clean up."

"Sure," said Finn, shrugging and pushing himself off the door frame and walking down the hall to his room.

Kurt's dad and Carole arrived home within the next hour. Burt helped Carole with her coat before taking his own off and hanging both on the coat rack, his large had along with it.

"How was your trip?" asked Kurt, standing on the bottom step hesitantly.

"It was good, son," said Burt. "I think we got a good amount of work done."

Kurt's father was a mechanic, who worked on making automobiles more accessible to the public. He and others were still working on making them more reliable.

"The train to Columbus was a bit uncomfortable, though," said Carole, walking into the sitting room, looking quite exhausted. "Very crowded."

Kurt actually liked Carole. A year ago, she had been very unfashionable, still a widow mourning over her first husband's death, who died while in battle during the War of The States.  Then Kurt gave her subtle advice on woman's fashion, changing her drab, listless dresses to more colorful dresses with flowing petticoats and stylish hats. He was also the reason why Kurt's dad courted the woman. It had been a fruitless attempt to get closer to Finn, whom Kurt had a crush on.

In the end, of course, Kurt hadn't actually done anything. Even told Finn he liked him, because Kurt knew that he was straight and he just couldn't tell the other boy that he was homosexual. What if his reaction was less than friendly?

No, the only people who knew were Blaine, obviously, and Mercedes Jones, his good friend.

Kurt sighed, watching his dad follow Carole into the sitting room to relax after the long trip. Kurt always had dreams of telling his family about Blaine and about himself. There was always a part of Kurt's mind, however, that scared him away from it. What if they all shunned him? What if Carole disagreed with it, but his dad didn't, causing a rift between them, or vice versa?

"Have you had lunch yet, dear?" called Carole from the other room, startling him from his thoughts.

"No," he called. "I can get everyone something." He was already on his way to the kitchen. Kurt did cook a lot for the family, ever since his mother died and the nanny Burt had hired for Kurt left after a year. Sometimes people would remark that a young man in the kitchen was a recipe for disaster, but Burt didn't seem to mind. He couldn't cook at all and loved it when Kurt made his late-wife's old recipes perfectly.

"That sounds perfect, dear," said Carole from the other room.

Kurt got to work, putting something together in the kitchen, his mind still creating scenarios of what would occur if he came out to his family.

TBC