#Of course Blaine has no socks

[esilher]

Here on this side of the planet we are the 20th! And at the same date 9 years ago, this lovely pair became husband and husband. And I thought we all deserved a really theatrical kiss to celebrate the occasion!

[wowbright]

Fic: Plain to See

Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2023: “You're the Inspiration�� by Chicago (Day 2 prompt)

Words: ~975 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Blaine arranges a dinner with an older lesbian couple.

I’m back with more vignettes from my Mormon!Klaine universe for Klaine Valentines 2023! This vignette takes place between Love at Home and Doubt Your Doubts. They are in love with each other but think it’s unrequited. Idiots.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: Jana and Liesl are Jan the jeweler and Liz her partner from 4.22 “All or Nothing.”

--------

They had just finished unpacking their groceries when Blaine checked his phone. He smiled at something on the screen and kicked his feet together like he was about to start dancing.

It was so unfair for a straight boy to be that freaking adorable.

“Good news?” Kurt asked.

“The best news! We don’t have to go dooring tonight! Someone’s invited us over for dinner. Remember Liesl from the jewelry store? Who undented your ring?” Blaine twirled while pointing to his own ring finger, as if the turning of his body was necessary to fully evoke the circular concept of a ring.

“She has your phone number?” Kurt asked.

“Of course she does. I gave it to her. I'm a missionary.” Blaine pointed to himself for emphasis. “That's what we do.”

Kurt couldn't help but laugh.

“What?" Blaine said with a little hop. "What's so funny?”

“You look like you're about to break into a full song-and-dance routine.”

Blaine tilted his head to the side in exaggerated contemplation. “Maybe I should.” Without further thought, he jumped onto one of the kitchen chairs and began wiggling his hips side-to-side like a chaste Elvis. “God is great! God is good! And we thank him for this food!” he belted out to the tune of “Rock Around the Clock.” “We’re gonna thank him morning, noon, and night. We're going to thank him ’cause he's outta sight. We’re gonna …” He leapt back to the floor, grabbed Kurt’s hand, and twirled him around the kitchen in 1950s sock-hop style until Kurt was laughing so hard he couldn't dance anymore.

“You’re such a dork, Elder Anderson.” Kurt sank into the closest chair, reluctantly letting go of his companion’s hand because if they weren’t dancing anymore, he didn’t really have an excuse.

“God made me that way for a reason.” Blaine beamed. His eyes glimmered with innocent mischief.

Kurt might've mistaken it for flirtation if he didn't know any better.

“You must've charmed the socks off of her in the jewelry store," Kurt said.

“I don't think so. We just ... hit it off, I guess.”

“She's not single, is she? We’ll have to send the sisters over if she's single.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Kurt. She’s my grandmother’s age.”

“I wasn't implying that. A rule is a rule. That's all.”

Blaine opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. His eyes moved from Kurt’s face to the kitchen floor. He opened his mouth again. “Anyway, she's married. So we can accept the invitation.”

*

“So glad you could come!” Liesl said as she answered the door. The house was in a suburban part of Ingolstadt, a contemporary building with a pleasantly square shape and a swath of ceiling-to-floor windows on the second floor. Through them, Blaine could see a study with a mid-century modern desk and chair set against a backdrop of wall-to-wall books. The garden in front was exquisitely designed, with a multihued choir of tulips lining the path to the front door. As they stepped through the threshold, Blaine could see more modern furniture, colorful paintings on the walls, and a vase with a fuchsia-and-white double tulip set in the center of a long table.

It all came together like a work of art. Blaine was not surprised to find a jewelry maker living in a house like this.

“Thanks for having us,” Kurt said, shaking Liesl’s hand. "Nice to meet you again.”

“Well, I've enjoyed chatting with Elder Anderson so much, and from what he’s said of you, I think we all have some things in common.” Liesl patted Blaine’s shoulder, and it felt so … nice. Easy and intimate, the way it should be between a nephew and his favorite aunt. He barely knew her, but he already wished he could adopt her, the way Joseph Smith and the early saints were constantly adopting their friends as spiritual sons and brothers. “Anyway, wait a moment while I get Jana. Her hearing’s not what it used to be.” Liesl disappeared up the stairs.

“Who is Jana?" Kurt asked.

Blaine’s stomach knotted. It occurred to him, suddenly, that maybe this had not been the best idea—springing a pair of elderly lesbians on Kurt without so much as a prelude. But if Blaine had said something ahead of time, Kurt wouldn't have come here. He would have said it was against the rules, two elders in a room alone with a pair of nonmember women. He would have said they had no business proselytizing to a pair of for-all-intents-and-purposes-married lesbians yes.

And Kurt needed to be here. He needed to see that the church’s idea of what made a family wasn’t the only one. He had to understand that God wanted Kurt’s happiness as much as he wanted the happiness of his straight children—the happiness that came with loving God and loving others, and with being willing to receive love in return.

“Jana is a family member,” Blaine said. It wasn’t the full truth, but it was true, and safer to say than wife. Kurt would find out soon. But every second Blaine delayed that revelation, he delayed the possibility of Kurt canceling dinner before it began.

If the news came from Liesl—an investigator, someone that Kurt wanted to leave a good impression on—and not from Blaine, it would be harder to run.

So Kurt wouldn't run. He’d bristle, but he wouldn't run. And over dinner, he would soften. They would enjoy food, and tell stories, and laugh together. And the truth would be plain to see—that Liesl and Jana, Kurt and Blaine, were normal, everyday people, living their lives as best as anyone could. That there was nothing wrong with committing yourself to live with and support another person through good and bad. There was nothing sinful about falling in love.

[gleekto]

Fic: Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You (13/?)

Short Summary: Blaine coming of age in 1969. Columbia University. Hippie!Kurt. Elliott and Sebastian as Blaine’s mentor-friends. Unironic use of ‘groovy’. Coming out and fitting in and falling in love.

Amazing Poster by @caramelcoffeeaddict

For @slayediest who gave an inspired prompt for this way back when.

Full Chapter 2 (up to day 12) is now  on AO3! Read it there for easy reading (and commenting!)

Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day 6, Day Seven, Day Eight, Day Nine, Day 10, Day Eleven, Day 12 .

Day Thirteen: Insidious

Blaine is grateful that Elliott invited him to the diner with Sebastian on Sunday morning because his homework is a lost cause. He knows they likely just wanted to hear the scoop from his own mouth, but he'll bite. He can't think about anything else anyways. He's giddy and distracted on no sleep at all once he got back from the dance in the early morning. He half skips, half floats down the street, running only on adrenaline. It was the best night of his life. Holding Kurt, kissing Kurt, Kurt in his arms. He keeps touching his lips, still tingling, still tired, like he finished a workout and he knows it's good for him. He'll have to sleep another time, right now he just wants to bottle up this feeling and savour it.

He sits down at the table, knowing he has to play it way cooler than he feels. Whatever. People hook up at dances. No big deal.

"You look like you didn't sleep much last night?" Elliott muses, clearly waiting for some details. It's not like they don't know already. Nosy.

“So how was your walk of shame this morning?" Sebastian is blunt as always. "I mean I assume it was at Kurt’s because you have a roommate. Or did you put sock on your door and Sam-”

“No Sebastian, we didn’t. You know, I’m from small town Ohio and so is Kurt. I’ve never,” Oh god. He didn't mean to say that. Especially not to Sebastian.

“Was that your first kiss?” Sebastian asks, looking like he's ready to pinch his cheeks again. Ugh.

“Maybe - yes. Whatever. Can you try to remember when you were a freshman?”

“Trust me you don’t want to know Sebastian’s freshman history,” Elliott dismisses.

“Hey, I can’t help it if I was a hot blooded young man.”

"I'm sure I don't want to know it," Blaine shakes his head. "Though he obviously shared it with you."

“Of course. But I only listened out of boyfriend necessity," Elliott says with an impish look. "In retrospect, thinking about it is kind of hot.” Blaine gets sweaty just thinking about doing anything with Kurt. Even what they did last night, fully clothed. His heart hasn't stopped racing.

"Is he your steady, Blaine?" Sebastian sing songs. Blaine knows there's mockery there but he just doesn't care.

"Slow down, everyone. We just kissed," Though Blaine definitely does not feel like the 'just' belongs in that sentence. For the first time in his life he feels unlocked, desired, allowed to want more. "No going steady, no talks yet, no," Blaine pauses, "sex." He quickly pushes the image away. Now is not the time. "Who knows what Kurt's thinking?"

"Ahhh there's that insidious Blaine cautiousness. Blaine, we are not going through this again," Elliott warns. "I know what he wants. You know what he wants. So do something about it, okay?"

...

Blaine waits until what he deems an appropriate hour - 8pm - to give Kurt a call. He doesn't want to interrupt dinner but doesn't want to call too late. There is so much he wants to say to Kurt.

"So who did you focus on for that jazz assignment?" is the first thing out of his mouth.

Kurt laughs. "Hi Blaine."

"Hi Kurt. It's due tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," Kurt says. He sounds amused. But happy. So Blaine will take it. "Bebop and Thelonius Monk," Kurt answers though Blaine had already forgotten the question. "I'm almost done. Didn't get as much done today as I'd hoped."

"Me neither," Blaine says. "I stayed out too late last night."

"Mmmm," He feels like he can hear Kurt smiling his hum on the other end. "Must have been a good time." He wants to kiss him again.

"It was. I hooked up with someone I've noticed for a long time."

"For a long time, huh?" Kurt muses.

"Since I saw him on my first day of class, actually."

"I hope he's good looking."

"Hottest guy I've met this year."

"The hottest?"

"No one compares."

"It's ironic because the same thing happened to me last night. I thought the guy wasn't interested but it turns out he was. He's cost me good work time on my assignment today."

"Better have been worth it."

"He's a pretty good kisser," Kurt is equivocal. The conversation is ridiculous. Blaine loves it.

“Only pretty good?”

“We need to practice.”

"Definitely," Blaine nods though no one can see him. It's a good idea - even if they're naturals. Practice makes perfect.

"Kurt," Blaine breaks first. "I had a really good time last night."

"Me too."

"And in addition to wanting to know your jazz topic, I also was wondering if you'd like to go see Oliver! with me on Saturday night?"

"Just us?"

"Just us."

"A chance to practice?"

"Of course. It's important."

"Very."

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Klaine it up! 2, 7, 12, 21, 50

Okay...I got this. PROMPTS FOUND HERE

2 - you accidentally sprayed them with yogurt when you open the lid the wrong way. 

This was not Kurt Hummel’s first time opening yogurt but it might’ve well have been. He was sitting at a picnic table in Central Park on his lunch break from Vogue.com having just picked up a BLT, sweeten iced tea, and strawberry yogurt from his newfound favorite sandwich shop. It just happened to be two blocks down from the Vogue offices too. 

After eating half a sandwich, he found himself watching three young girls practicing their hula-hooping skills. Of course, while entranced by the colorful swirls of plastic, Kurt grabbed his low-fat yogurt and pulled at the lid, and the minute he did another man was being dragged by his golden retriever over to Kurt’s table. 

Before he could stop it, a splash of light pink yogurt was splattered across the front of a bright blue polo. 

“Shit, I am so sorry,” they both said. 

Kurt had a lap full of puppy and the man covered in yogurt. 

“She’s really friendly and has a fondness for bacon,” the man said, gesturing to the sandwich. “And who can blame her.” 

With that comment, Kurt pushed his meal away slightly. Out of reach of the dog’s mouth. 

“I usually am way more careful with my food,” Kurt said. 

The handsome man only laughed, “it’s no big deal, do you happen to have a napkin?” 

“Oh yes!” Kurt reached into his bag to grab one. 

“Thanks,” he said, “come here, Lacey.” 

The puppy sat right at his side and waited. Kurt stood up to wipe the yogurt away while the man kept Lacey still. 

“I can...” he started to say but Kurt was already pulling away having cleaned it up the best he could. 

“Lacey and I also share a fondness for cute boys but I don’t suppose...” he trailed off, blushing. 

Kurt still wasn’t used to being flirted with but this wasn’t small town, Ohio. 

“And who can blame you,” Kurt replied, already grabbing a pen and paper from his bag to write on. 

THE REST OF THE PROMPTS CAN BE FOUND BELOW THE CUT

7 - you both do the side-to-side dance when you try to pass them in the grocery store aisle

Kurt told his dad to pick up an extra heavy whipping cream three days ago when Burt asked if Kurt needed any other ingredients for Thanksgiving dessert. He told him. 

“I only need 3 things: dark chocolate, heavy whipping cream, and almond extract.” 

Burt had gotten everything but Kurt needed whipping cream for both the chocolate mousse itself and the whipped topping he planned to make. Now he was at the crowded grocery store one day prior to Thanksgiving. Exactly where he didn’t want to be. 

 Of course, every grocery store made you walk all the way to the back of the store for dairy products. I’ll just grab milk and eggs real quick, you think, then suddenly you have a cart full of snacks you didn’t need. 

Kurt found the red and white carton fairly quick. He backed up and started to make his way to the self-checkout. Before he could think about the temptation of potato chips, he was stopped by another body. 

They both stopped and shifted their feet to make way for the other. From right to left and back again for several seconds before both falling into pits of laughter. Kurt looked into deep hazel eyes that twinkled at him. He wondered how long he could do this dance just to stare at them some more. 

“That’s my fault, I came around the corner too quick,” he said. 

Not quick enough, Kurt thought, we could’ve fallen to the floor. You on top of me would be quite nice. 

“No, it’s all me,” Kurt replied, “I should’ve been watching where I was going.” 

He fumbles into his pocket for a business card. Isabel’s one-month anniversary gift. 

“If you’re in town longer than tomorrow, I’d love to buy you some coffee as an apology,” Kurt said, handing the card over. 

“Oh.” Kurt watched him scan the card, flipping it over in his hands. “I’d love to, Kurt.” 

A shiver ran down his spine. Maybe he should thank his dad for forgetting the cream. 

12 - you kick a ball and your shoe flies off, hitting them in the back of your head

Blaine used to hate having an older brother. Growing up, he felt constantly in competition with Cooper’s larger-than-life personality. Now that Cooper had settled down in LA with Lisa, his wife, and had two wonderful kids, having an older sibling didn’t seem too bad.

It was summer break, Blaine was free to leave the confines of his NYU dorm room. He was trying to get lost in the sunshine of California to forget he was about to start his final year of college. Time with his niece and nephew was sure to put any nervousness out of his head. 

They were playing soccer in the park when it happened. It was bound to. Everyone in LA was hot. It was like the law. 

Cute boys and Blaine’s non-existence coordination weren’t a good mix. 

Blaine went to kick the ball and caught sight of a bicep. An unusually pale bicep. A rare sight in sunny Los Angles. Arms, Blaine fantasized, he’d love to see wrapped around him or possibly pushing his legs apart. 

He was sure he tighten his laces. This is why Blaine Anderson didn’t wear sneakers. Missed the ball by an inch but the force of his kick sent something flying through the air directly towards the cute guy: a sneaker. 

It happened so fast, Blaine heard the yell of surprise before realizing his sock was exposed. Once he realized what happened, he rushed over to the man. 

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” Blaine said. “Can I do anything?” 

“Well, an aspirin would be great,” the man teased. 

Blaine sat in the grass and chuckled. Still extremely embarrassed. 

“Not exactly the fairytale I always dreamed of.” 

“Fairytale?” Blaine asked, scrunching up his nose in confusion. 

“Cinderella,” he said, like it was obvious, “a lost shoe as it were.” 

“I’m not Cinderella,” Blaine told him, “sorry to say. I’m more of a Blaine.” 

“Kurt.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“I do believe this is yours,” Kurt said, handing over the shoe. 

21 - Almost spilling a drink because you met their eyes and got distracted thinking how cute they are. 

His dad always said pour your drinks yourself. Blaine became that friend who grabbed drinks for everyone for this reason exactly. He wasn’t sure what the occasion was exactly but his study buddy from his songwriting workshop invited him. It was at some loft in Bushwick but Blaine didn’t mind the adventure. 

Until tonight he had no reason to venture to this part of the city. 

“Blaine!” Elliott exclaimed, pushing a solo cup into his hand, “Drink up, karaoke at eleven!” 

Then he disappeared into the crowd. Blaine headed straight for the kitchen and poured the toxic mixture down the sink. He found a new cup and started reading the labels of the bottles spread out across the counter. Mixers and any alcohol of your choice seemed to be available. 

Rum and coke sounded good. He went into the fridge for a cold soda first. Blaine was happy the kitchen was empty he wasn’t quite ready to start making friends. As far as he knew, Elliott was the only friendly face here tonight. 

He poured the rum in for some semblance of tracking his alcohol intake. The last time he got drunk, he dialed the professor he TA-ed for, who thankfully overlooked that incident. Blaine cracked open the coke and while he poured surveying the living room. 

People were dancing to an upbeat pop song that Blaine strangely didn’t recognize and others were mingling in doorways or sat on scattered sofas and chairs chatting. He caught a pair of blue eyes in the crowd. 

The man they were attached to was stunning. If he hadn’t blinked, Blaine could’ve mistaken him for a marble statue carved by the gods. They didn’t lose eye contact as he walked towards the kitchen. It wasn’t until the man stood on the other side of the counter that Blaine noticed his hand was covered in soda. 

“Papers towels are behind you,” the man offers. 

Blaine set the now empty can down and spun around for paper towels to clean up his mess. 

Just great, he thought, make a fool out of yourself. That’ll score you some points. 

He cleans up his hand before wiping down the puddle of bubbling coke on the counter. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he continues, “and this is my party so I like to know all my guests.” 

“Your party?” Blaine stutters. 

“It’s my birthday.” 

“I’m Blaine,” he introduces. “Elliott invited me. We have a class together.” 

“Oh, you’re Blaine. From songwriting workshop.” 

“That’s me.” 

Elliott’s obviously talked about him before to this man. This gorgeous, completely out of Blaine’s league man. 

“God, he’s relentless,” he says. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“Um, might I ask why? I can leave if there’s an issue.” Blaine knows when he isn’t welcome. 

“No, no,” he replies, “don’t go. It’s just he’s been trying to set us up for months now.” 

It all clicks.

“Oh god, you’re Kurt.” 

“That’s me, the birthday boy. and you are Elliott’s idea of the best gift ever.”

Blaine blushes. “I don’t know if I can I've up to that but if I can have the next dance I can try.” 

Kurt nods. “I’d like that, Blaine. A lot.” 

50 - getting paired up on an amusement park ride that requires even-numbered riders

All of Kurt’s friends hated rollercoasters. Rachel didn’t like heights, Elliott refused to do anything with loops, and Santana, well, she was too caught up in her new girlfriend to be bothered. 

“I only wanna hear screaming tonight,” she told him. 

So, Kurt waited in line himself. Some fun day at Coney Island this was turning out to be. He was so glad he was spending the day with friends. Kurt rolled his eyes. 

The woman directing the ride gave Kurt his row number and moved down the line. Behind him someone tapped on his shoulder, Kurt turned around and found himself looking at a curly-haired man around his age. 

“Guess we’re both odd men out then, I’m the single rider in my group today.” 

“Oh, um, no, my friends were too chicken to even ride,” Kurt said. 

“I’m really surprised Wes and David are good to go. They both hate being upside-down.” 

Kurt smiled.

“I'm Blaine, by the way.”

“Kurt.” 

The ride emptied out and Kurt crawled over to the far seat. They buckled themselves in and listened to the instructions to keep all body parts inside at all times. Then, the bar came down and the ride launched. 

After the ride ended, Blaine and Kurt were chatting all the way down. Wes and David trailing behind them.

“That second loop really threw me,” Blaine was saying. 

“I saw,” Kurt exclaimed, “I thought you were going to fall out of your seat.” 

“Downfalls of being short and compact.”

When three more people joined their day at the park, no one questioned it. 

[m0srael]

Writerly Ephemera

This is such a lovely idea @the-starryknight (original post here), I'm so pleased I was tagged by @cluelesspigeons in her version. I've been doing a lot of thinking about why/how/what I like to write. I think it's very grounding to take a moment to reflect on how much of myself is actually embedded in my writing. I'm still very new to the game, but here are some examples:

Open Mic

The last performer, a comic who’d just finished what Harry was sure was the world’s worst three-minute set in the history of comedy, turned to slap Draco Malfoy rather hard on the shoulder as he mounted the stage, acoustic guitar in hand.

My second date with my partner was an open-mic comedy show. To call it "cringey" would be generous. One performer's whole spiel was yelling at audience members about whether or not they did drugs, very confusing. We laughed about it for so long afterward, though, and it's such a fond memory now!

Whatever Walked There, Did Not Walk Alone

Walking through Draco--his Draco--would be like stepping out of a warm hearth and into someone’s first real home away from home--compact and unassuming on the outside, maybe, but packed to the brim with stuff and things that had been meticulously collected and strategically placed to immediately show visitors who the owner is. He pictured low ceilings and a small series of purpose-built rooms, every surface coated with the thin veneer of dust that tends to gather around homes that are actually lived in and not just kept.

Draco's interior architecture is modeled after my grandmother's home, a place I spent a lot of time as a child. The kitchen had this horrible brown linoleum tile, the living room had a forest-green carpet and there was a glass-front cabinet full of porcelain dolls in one corner, and one of her big decorative elements was a collection of buttons and pins she'd amassed over her life. Somehow, there was always a Pavorotti performance on the tv. It was so cozy and weird and perfect.

Be Better Than You Were

It isn’t that Draco no longer commands a room with their quick wit and clever sense of humor, or that they take up less space, less air. It isn’t that they’ve grown quiet or complacent or something. Merlin, Harry couldn’t imagine a quiet Draco Malfoy. There’s just a bit more give in the parts of them that used to be unyielding. Draco still teases anyone and everyone, but now it feels more like an invitation than a warning, and is always accompanied by the soft press of long fingers to a temple or a second cup of tea. Draco had made Harry feel a lot of things over the course of their acquaintance--disdain, anger, suspicion, fear, jealousy, confusion, desire, longing, remorse--now, Draco just makes Harry feel at ease. Draco makes Harry feel like maybe he can give a little, too, and not break like he’s always worried he might.

Somewhere in the folds of grief and trauma, Draco has managed to find a little space in which to learn something important about the way they move about the world. Harry would like very much to sit in that space with them, just for a while.

This whole fic was very personal for me. This particular passage was inspired by my own experiences of loss. Writing this allowed me to think through how intimately entangled things like grief, trauma, optimism, identity, gender, self-image, and our capacity to be in relationships with others really are. It's hard to remember to be soft when what we're used to is bracing for impact.

The Fourth Rule (and pt. 2, The Fourth King)

Potter and Malfoy’s first few tricks were received with a barrage of insults and empty bottles. The pub’s patrons had no interest in simple card tricks or disappearing handkerchiefs. No, tonight Potter and Malfoy would have to pull out all the stops if they hoped to get paid.

Malfoy, whose back had been to the audience for some time, whirled around quickly. “IS THIS WHAT YOU CAME FOR?” He shouted over the cacophony of boos, waving a revolver in the faces in the front row. His brows were pinched in anger, eyes glinting dangerously in the low lamplight. Potter reached slowly into his jacket for his own firearm and watched as the crowd shrank back. A gasp, then a hush fell over the room.

I think this series will be my favorite piece of writing (if not the most universally appealing). I have a strong fascination with closeup/stage magic, I force my partner to watch magicians' specials on Netflix with me all the time. They even got me tickets to see David Blaine live as an anniversary gift (he held his breath on stage for over 20 minutes !!!). Sure, a lot of it is hokey and unconvincing, but sometimes a performer pulls off an illusion that is absolutely mind-blowing and just totally cool. I think this kind of magic can be a metaphor for so much in our lives (especially in our writing).

Live to Remember, Remember to Live

The doorknob had rattled before the door swung slowly open. Lucius had shuffled haltingly into the room in nothing but socks and a pair of briefs. Draco’s mother must have given up on combing his hair as it was a mess of tangles down his back. Frozen in place, Draco had just watched his father’s slow progress across his bedroom floor, a hot knife of sadness and fear lodged in his stomach.

This one is the most personal, and the most challenging. Without going into detail, a lot of Draco's experience with Lucius in this fic is directly inspired by my own experiences with my father. I'm learning that writing about all of it, either as fiction or more memoir-y, can put things in perspective and even be a bit healing. Draco's impulse to go get a Ph.D. to process his intense emotions is also...not unfamiliar to me.

Keeping it going: @cibeewastaken, @phoebedelia, @curlyy-hair-dont-care, @frenchmarshmalloww who may all have been tagged already !!!

[pezberryandotherlesbians]

Things Change - Part Two

you can find Part 1 here

Sometimes Santana can’t tell what’s the truth and what she’s saying in aim of some sort of result. Most of the time, she forgets what she’s aiming for, too. 

When Brody arrives Santana is the first to greet him. ‘Good evening, muscles. May I take your coat?’ She leans in to whisper her next words, still loud enough for Rachel and Kurt to hear. ‘Unless you got a little somethin’ somethin’ in there you don’t want Rachel to see.’ ‘Santana!’ Rachel snaps. ‘She’s kidding, babe. Hi.’ She grips Brody’s arm and kisses him passionately. Santana grimaces and gestures sticking a finger down her throat. ‘Okay, gross. Even if he’s not a drug dealer the way he moves his lips like that is definitely a deal breaker.’ Kurt snickers before whispering a chastising, ‘Santana.’ ‘What? It looks like he’s trying to siphon something out of her throat.’ Santana adjusts her tight fitting black top. It’s mesh across her shoulders and the top of her chest, her long legs hugged by matching black material, minus the transparency. Her heels click across the floorboards as she flips the Fleetwood Mac record Rachel selected especially for Brody’s arrival. ‘Wow, guys. Do you remember when Mr Schue made us sing practically every song off this record for a week?’ She twists the cover in her hands then looks directly at Rachel. ‘I sang Songbird to Brittany. I wanted her to know, you know? Without having to say it.’ Rachel’s mouth falls open a little bit and her eyes flood with sympathy and something akin to relief. ‘That’s beautiful, Santana.’

‘Who’s Brittany?’ Brody asks, removing his own coat while taking no notice of the way the air has shifted, Rachel smiles gratefully at a nonchalant Santana.

‘Santana’s ex-girlfriend.’ Rachel answers.

‘Oh, bummer.’ Brody looks at Santana. ‘When did you break up?’

‘Brody, I don’t think Santana really wants to talk about that tonight,’ Rachel says quickly and quietly.

‘It’s fine, Rachel. Ken doll over here is practically our fourth roommate. I broke up with Brittany 6 months ago.’ Saying it out loud makes her stomach turn but she acts unfazed. If she’s going to get closer to Rachel, she's going to have to talk about this shit. She’s not even sure if she’s going to follow through will this whole

use Rachel as a distraction until the pain goes away plan

. But in any case, it’s fun to mess with her. And Santana needs a little fun.

‘Are you still in love with her?’ Brody takes a seat at the table and stares up at Santana with his dumb boy face. Rachel gasps and gently hits his arm. ‘Ow, sorry.’

‘Rachel.’ Kurt says warningly, fearful of Santana’s impending reaction. Little does he know, Santana is nowhere close to going all Lima Heights - again. And even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t. That’s not the way to get Rachel to trust her, and her trust is imperative.

Santana serves up the giant salad Kurt made earlier. It has some weird looking vegetables in it but she’s too hungry to question anything. She tried to make a snack earlier but Rachel just kept smacking her hands away, telling her not to fill up on junk. ‘In answer to your question, wax-man, no. I’m not still in love with Brittany.’

‘Wait, really?’ Rachel asks, unable to help herself. Kurt rolls his eyes.

‘Guys, seriously? Is there nothing else we can think to discuss besides Santana’s past lovers?’

‘Stick a sock in it, Porcelain. If Lars and the Real Girl want to know then fine, let’s talk about Brittany. And about how I am no longer in love with her.’

Rachel has that look she wears whenever she feels embarrassed. ‘I just assumed…’

‘Well, you assumed wrong, Berry. Anything else you or your boy toy would like to know before I dig into this terrifying salad?’

‘Hey, I made that!’ Kurt protests.

‘But you’ve seemed so sad. So-so

wounded

. You just go to work and come home and sit there and sometimes you hardly say anything and when you do it’s just this - this

venom

that I chalked up to being a result of your pain. But you don’t love her.’

Oh, crap

. Santana didn’t account for this. ‘Of course I still love her, Barbara. I’m just not in love with her like I used to be.’

‘I get that.’ Brody chimes in. ‘Here’s to moving on.’ He raises a glass and Rachel reluctantly pulls her gaze from Santana. ‘Happy Valentine’s day.’

‘Pass me the salad you pale, pale man.’ Santana snatches the bowl from Kurt’s hands. She pushes her fork into her mouth to keep herself from speaking. She needs to think about what she wants. And how to get it.

Later, when Adam comes over, Santana realises how desperately alone she really is. She cringes almost every time anyone says anything. It’s painful, really, especially when Kurt suggests they watch Mama Mia again. ‘Okay, no. Kurt? We just watched that. Remember?’ Santana takes another sip of her wine while she waits for him to respond. ‘Yes, but not with Brody and Adam!’ He says this like it really makes a difference. ‘Terrific,’ Santana drawls sarcastically. ‘Come on, Santana. I know you have a crush on Amanda Seyfried.’ Rachel says, a little flirtatiously, Santana thinks. Or maybe she’s just drunk. She did text Quinn earlier asking if she wanted to make their wedding hook up a three time thing, so she’s clearly not thinking straight. ‘As long as Kurt doesn’t cry again when Meryl sings The Winner Takes It All because he’s thinking about Blaine.’ Adam grows visibly uncomfortable and Santana smiles. ‘I was crying because I was thinking about Meryl’s rise to the top, thank you very much.’ Santana considers leaving the loft to hang out with the homeless cluster across the street as soon as Rachel and Brody start duetting during every song. ‘Please, for the love of god, shut up.’ Rachel pouts. She’s definitely drunk now, which makes Santana feel better about the way the room spins when she stands up. ‘Don’t go, Santana.’ ‘Turn off the movie and I won’t.’ She spills her wine across the bottom of her top because she forgets she’s holding it. ‘Goddammit.’ She walks clumsily to the bathroom, aware of Rachel trailing behind her. ‘Here, let me.’ Rachel grabs a towel and starts dabbing at Santana’s abdomen. ‘Are you okay?’ Santana frowns. ‘Besides the fact that you and Taylor Lautner have permanently damaged my hearing and sense of joy? Of course I am.’ Rachel gazes up at her. ‘We can talk about Brittany, if you want to. I don’t think I’ve been a very good friend to you.’ She looks upset, like maybe she might cry. Santana really doesn’t want to deal with this, but Rachel keeps dabbing at her hip even though there’s no stain there, so she’s not about to interrupt. ‘You’ve been fine, Berry. You’re right. I’ve been sulking.’ Sometimes Santana can’t tell what’s the truth and what she’s saying in aim of some sort of result. Most of the time, she forgets what she’s aiming for, too. ‘Is it true?’ Rachel asks, lifting Santana’s top to check if the wine went through to her skin. Santana shivers. ‘Is what true?’ ‘Have you fallen out of love with her?’ Rachel wipes her bare skin, then pauses. Santana considers it all. The truth, the lie she wants to tell. She answers when she realises those are the same thing. ‘I don’t love her like I used to. So, yeah. It’s true.’ Rachel throws the towel into the wash basket and lets Santana’s top fall back over her skin. ‘Do you still miss her?’ Santana leans back against the basin to steady herself. She’s dangerously close to seeing two Rachel’s. ‘I miss her. And I miss having someone. I miss sex, the intimacy.’ She doesn’t know why she’s still talking, but Rachel’s eyes are dark and her mouth is slightly parted. She’s looking at Santana like she wants to hear this, all of it. Like it’s doing something to her. Santana just can’t figure out what. ‘Do you miss Finn?’ Santana asks, hoping to deflect the line of questioning so she can catch her breath. Rachel looks at the floor. ‘Yes.’ ‘Do you love him?’ Santana grips the sink. She’s starting to sweat. ‘I think I always will.’ Santana knows that that is the answer she wanted to give Rachel. She loves Brittany, always will. And it’s not that she loves her less right now, she just knows they can’t be their best until they live. Until they have loved other people, even though she hates that guppy face puppy dog she’s chosen to shack up with. ‘Are you okay?’ Rachel is closer now. ‘You look kind of pale.’ ‘I’m fine.’ Santana wants to go to bed, but unfortunately there’s an assortment of men currently draped across her couch. ‘I think I just need to get some sleep.’ Rachel looks worried for a moment and then says, ‘take my bed. Brody and I can share the couch.’ 
Santana chuckles. ‘What, are you planning to sleep inside of each other? Actually, gross, don’t answer that.’ Rachel smiles, a little charmed by Santana’s consistency. ‘Go, get some sleep. I’ll try to keep the boys quiet.’ Santana looks at Rachel, like really looks at her. ‘Thank you, Rachel.’ She thinks about apologising for earlier, for basically assaulting Rachel against a fridge. Ascribing that word to it makes her feel nauseous, so she doesn’t say anything, just walks past Rachel and kicks off her heels before throwing herself onto Berry scented sheets. Her clothes quickly become uncomfortable so she sheds them until she’s in her lacy black underwear. It’s stupid, she thinks, that nobody is going to see how insanely hot she looks in these. She must fall asleep quickly because she doesn’t rouse at all until a tiny gremlin starts shaking her. ‘Santana, wake up. It’s Rachel.’ ‘Who else would it be, Hobbit?’ She slurs. She practically feels Rachel roll her eyes. ‘Move over. I need to sleep in here. Brody is having some kind of…well, he’s moaning and aroused and I can’t sleep next to him if he’s going to…just move over.’ Santana manages to cackle despite the heaviness that is pushing down on her. ‘Your boyfriend is having a sex dream next to you so you had to run away? What, scared he’s gonna spray you?’ ‘Don’t be so crass, Santana. I’m just not prepared to service him at this hour.’ ‘Jesus. Where did you learn to speak?’ ‘Are you naked?’ Rachel darts a hand out to touch Santana’s stomach. ‘I can’t feel any clothing.’ Santana thinks about smacking her hand away until she tunes into how nice the contact feels. Like earlier, but better. A ripple of arousal settles between her legs. ‘I’m not naked, but feel free to keep checking.’ Rachel huffs and climbs in next to her. ‘Are you naked, Rachel?’ This is all a lot more fun now Rachel is here, especially since Quinn replied saying she’s dating a new professor now so there’s no chance of a repeat. ‘I can’t sense any clothing.’ ‘Very funny, Santana.’ Rachel lays on her side, facing Santana. ‘I hope you’re feeling better than earlier.’ Santana cringes despite the darkness. ‘I’m fine.’ ‘Have you thought about dating?’ Rachel asks. She’s perky, a little too alert after her walk through the loft. She also desperately wants to continue their conversation from earlier, and it’s not every night she has Santana in her bed. ‘Why are you still talking?’ Santana rolls over, away from Rachel. The diva blinks at the ceiling and considers her options. After weighing up the potential fall out, she decides to continue pressing. ‘You said you miss intimacy,’ she whispers. ‘I said a lot of things. I was drunk.’ Santana is awake now. Despite herself, her wave of sleep has passed over her, leaving her to wade in the water with Rachel. ‘I know you meant it.’ Rachel says. ‘And I understand.’ ‘How could you possibly understand? You have a mannequin out there that is literally hard for you.’ Even saying the words makes Santana’s throat close up. The thought of Brody being any harder than he already is is too much for her to take. ‘That’s not intimacy.’ Rachel says, refusing to take the bait. She doesn’t want to detour them with a fight, not while they’re maybe, possibly getting somewhere. ‘What is it then?’ Santana rolls onto her back so she’s better able to hear Rachel’s response.

‘It’s sex. It’s physical. It has nothing to do with me. Well, not all the time. I don’t - I don’t love him. We don’t make love.’ Rachel admits, her voice quieter than Santana has ever heard it. She doesn’t know what to say, although she thinks back to all times she didn’t make love in high school. Before Brittany, maybe even after. God knows she’s not in love with Quinn. Something comes over Santana then. Something uncontrollable. It’s the same sensation she felt earlier when she pushed Rachel. She can’t take another second of this ache, the numbness beneath the pain. She needs to feel something else. In one movement she rolls over and finds Rachel’s face in the dark. When she kisses her she can feel that Rachel is trying to speak, but she stops after a second. She didn’t expect her to kiss her back, but when she does it wakes her up. She hears her own heavy breathing, Rachel’s whimper of surprise, the way small hands grip her arm, her waist. She pulls back like she’s tasted fire.

‘Fuck.’ She sits up, away from Rachel. This was not a part of the plan. The stupid plan that is nothing more than a game inside her own head, one she never should have given attention.

‘Santana, what…what was that?’ Rachel sounds more than just confused. She’s utterly dumbfounded. She touches her lips with her fingers, feels the moisture Santana’s left on her own. Her boyfriend is sleeping just a few steps away.

‘Shit, I was dreaming. I thought…I don’t know.’ It’s a flimsy excuse, a pathetic one that is practically nonsensical but Santana doesn’t know what else to say.

‘Did you mean to kiss me?’ Rachel sits up. ‘Or were you thinking of someone else?’ She sounds wounded already. Santana rolls her eyes.

‘Does that matter? Washboard is sleeping on my couch, remember?’ She feels like maybe they can just breeze past this. Chalk up to the darkness, the wine, the emotional conversation.

‘It matters.’ Rachel says softly.

Santana can’t make sense of this right now. Her head is pounding and she just

kissed

Rachel. ‘Why?’

‘Were you thinking about Brittany?’

‘Jesus, give it up already.’ Santana gets out of bed and searches for her clothes. ‘I’m just tired. I didn’t mean for this, okay?’

‘Quinn?’ Rachel sounds devastated. Santana squints at her through the darkness, trying to see something on her face that tells her what the fuck is going on.

‘God, no. Not Quinn. Not Brittany. Not anybody, okay?’ She slides into her pants. ‘I’ll sleep in the bathroom.’

‘Don’t go, Santana. It’s fine. We can forget about it.’ Rachel pleads.

‘You wanna forget about it?’ Santana doesn’t know why she asks. Maybe she just wants to feel like she’s back in control of this situation, and this is the only way she knows how. ‘You wanna forget about how that was the best kiss you’ve ever had? That Brody or Finn’s man lips don’t compare to my juicy, delectable mouth? Just wait until you feel my tongue, Rachel. You won’t even remember Barbara’s last name.’

She can see through the moonlight that Rachel’s jaw drops a little. She smirks, only faltering when she hears Rachel’s next words.

‘I’m going back to sleep with Brody. The bed is yours if you want it.’ She watches Rachel walk away, hears Brody’s deep voice welcome her back. When she crawls back into Rachel’s sheets, she wishes she could redo the last 20 minutes so much that it gives her a headache on top of her headache.

[angelhummel]

seblaine your send a pair

Who buys flowers for the other - Sebastian definitely buys them more often because he knows how much Blaine loves them

Who makes the other coffee/tea - They always go out for coffee together, so they rarely make it at home. But sometimes Sebastian will make Blaine his calming tea before bed

Who eats the most candy on Halloween - Definitely Blaine. Sebastian warns him not to eat too much or he’ll get a stomach ache, but Blaine never learns

Who tries new recipes all the time - Blaine! Sebastian isn’t much of a cook

Who genuinely likes pineapple on pizza - Also Blaine. Seb is a super picky eater

Who wears hats on special occasions - Definitely Blaine

Who likes ‘90s R&B - Both of them, but Bas has a surprising like for it

Who likes long walks on the beach - Blaine, but of course he always gets Seb to go with him

Who buys wacky picture frames - Blaine

Who compares themselves to fictional/celebrity couples - Also Blaine. Sebastian thinks they’re better than everyone else anyway so why bother comparing?

Who can solve a rubix cube - Both of them could. Might take a while, though

Who would wear Hawaiian shirts on vacation/during the summer - Both of them, definitely. Blaine in an unironic way and Sebastian in like a fuck boy way

Who wears mismatched socks because they can’t keep up with the pairs - Blaine. But he wears those little footies so no one can see them anyway

[muckrakerhq]

PRESENTING … FONDUE FOR TWO, EVERY TUESDAY, HOSTED BY JOEY HUMMEL-ANDERSON.

featuring… this week’s guests, @auroraowen​ & @steviebeckett​

fondue for two is a weekly internet talk show hosted by joey hummel-anderson. fondue for two, joey, and the muckraker team strive to get all the steaming gossip while he interviews guests of his choice over a steaming pot of cheese.

[The same old Joey’s room, same as before – Joey sitting across from Stevie and Rory, while Gil the Fish is on his bowl in between them]

JOEY: Welcome back to Fondue for Two! Since last week we had Ivy and Lincoln here with us and they’re playing Danny and Rizzo in Grease, I thought that it would probably for the best if I invited the people who are playing Sandy and Rizzo on the nights that no one cares about! In other words, I finally got Danny as I deserve, but this isn’t about me! I have here with me, Rory Owen and Stevie Beckett! How do you feel about being here?

STEVIE: Since when do people not care about closing night?

RORY: I think all days are equally important, but thanks for inviting me on here Joey. I kinda thought this was only reserved for people you liked.

JOEY: No one cares about closing night, Stevie. And it was hard for me to invite the two of you over, but it's fine, I'll just have to burn those chairs. First question is for Rory: care to explain what happened to the Schuemobile?

RORY: No comment. Any relation to me destroying the Schuemobile is simply just rumors. And I’m definitely not saying this because this video could be incriminating.

JOEY: Okay, that's fair enough! I still think you did it though, so I'll keep my eye out on you just in case. Next question is for Stevie: out of the gay boys in our school, who's the second hottest? I'm already first, so.

STEVIE: I'm definitely first hottest, so... you? Congrats.

JOEY: Stop lying in front of Gil the Fish, that's rude. Anyway, what are you guys most excited about the musical?

RORY: Being able to play a part that I actually deserve. Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely thrilled to play Jan but... we all know who had the best Danny audition and it wasn’t Julien or Ivy.

STEVIE: Getting to knock the socks off of the audience with my rendition of 'Hopelessly Devoted to You' on B nights. And getting to piss off any backwoods townie homophobes by telling an enchanting gay love story on stage. Even if it does mean I have to kiss you, Joey.

JOEY: You're right, the best Danny audition was mine, I'm glad that we could agree on that! And Stevie, the thought of kissing you makes my skin crawl, but I'm willing to do it because I really want to play Danny. Okay, next up, we have a little game. Fuck, marry, kill: Theo, Kaden and Cam. And don't worry, the internet is a safe place.

STEVIE: They're all straight, right? Snooze, I'll let Rory take this one.

RORY: Well, I’ve already fucked two of the three so I guess I’ll fuck Cam since I haven’t yet, marry Theo, and kill Kaden. Pretty refreshing lineup in my opinion.

JOEY: Stevie, it's supposed to be a game! You have to answer! Wait, Rory you slept with Theo? Can you whisper in my ear if the Evian water bottle rumors are true?

RORY: Evian water bottle rumors? What?

STEVIE: Oh, well if that's true I know my line up.

STEVIE: Unless I'm missing something.

JOEY: Stevie, just answer the question! Rory, we'll talk after the video is over. [looks at the camera for a while and then back to Stevie]

STEVIE: I'm invoking my fifth amendment right, and would like to instead use this time to encourage everyone to vote for me for Homecoming King.

RORY: I thought you weren’t on the ballot?

STEVIE: Please tell me my sister's curse is not passing on to me.

JOEY: You have a sister?

JOEY: Right, I'm getting distracted, the Evian water bottle thing threw me off. Moving on, Stevie, why do you dress like my dad?

RORY: Joey, he has a literal twin.

STEVIE: If you're referring to your fabulous if a tad washed up father Kurt, I'll just say it's an honor to be compared to him.

JOEY: I don't mean him, I mean my dad Blaine. You're telling me if I pulled out one of his bowties right now, what are the odds that you already own it?

STEVIE: It's rare of me to rock a bowtie, but considering I'm pretty sure your dads could have me fired in an instant for whatever I say on here, I'll just say pass on the fashion inquisition, thanks.

JOEY: I guess that's fair enough, just don't go steal clothes from my dad or he'll be really mad. Rory, I heard a rumor that you're taking Drew McCarthy to Sadie's! Is this because he reminds you of a lost puppy? Because that's what I think.

RORY: No? I mean, he’s a bit like a lost puppy but that’s not why we’re going together.

JOEY: Then why are you going together?

RORY: Because we’re friends.

JOEY: So, you don't want to jump in his pants?

RORY: Why would I want to do that?

JOEY: I don't know, I was just wondering. You're very defensive about all of this. Anyway, Stevie, who are you taking to Sadie's?

STEVIE: I'll be escorted by the illustrious Darcy Clarington-Smythe whose financial backing combined with my fashion sense will make her the best dressed girl there, even if she's not a McKinley student.

JOEY: That's kind of lame. I thought you at least would go with a hot guy, but at least Darcy's pretty cool! Right, another question for the two of you: predictions on what's going to happen at Sadie's? Drama, hook-ups, tell me all.

RORY: I don’t really know? People are probably going to just get drunk and fuck like usual.

STEVIE: This is McKinley, if we don't have some form of rigged election or prank during court announcements, I'll feel cheated out of the full experience, honestly. I'll probably be crowned Queen instead of King as a cheap joke, someone will put bath salts in the punch, and someone'll get Carrie'd. Those are my guesses.

JOEY: Right, right... Stevie, you're not getting crowned Queen, you're not popular enough. Besides, I'm a Cheerio, if anyone were to be crowned Queen, it would be me.

STEVIE: I am also a Cheerio.

JOEY: Liar!

JOEY: Anyway, it's time to wrap this up, I took most of my cold medicine an hour ago and now I have the urge to stand in a corner for three hours. Time for Gil's final thoughts. [Zoom in on Gil the Fish as he swims around] Rory, he said something really offensive, I'm not going to translate that.

RORY: He can speak??

STEVIE: Okay, well, Vote Stevie! And come see Grease on B-cast nights! At least that's one thing we can all agree on.

JOEY: Of course he can, he's a fish! And obviously vote for Joey, this is my show and if you guys don't vote for me, I'll be really sad. Did you guys have fun?

RORY: It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done. So, kinda fun I guess.

STEVIE: Never imagined I could have such a great time exposing my personal life for all of Lima to see.

JOEY: Awesome! Don't forget to join us next week for more Fondue for Two! 

 [THE END]

[honeysucklepink]

20-29

20. how long have you watched glee?

Started watching in 2010, the “Home” episode, then watched the rest of the season and caught up with the first half over the summer.

21. what scene or episode made you fall in love with the show?

I think it may have been “Theatricality.” The performances and the whole Finn-Burt-Kurt thing coming to a head. 

22. if you could wake up and be one of the characters for a day, who would you like to be?

I almost said Quinn...who wouldn’t want to be Queen Bee for a day? But no way could I live with her parents. I’ll say Santana on one of her nice days. Unless we’re in New York and not McKinley, then Kurt.

23. what character would you most like to meet?

Aw, of course I wanna meet Blaine...we can share our core wounds, dig into his classic New Wave record collection, and compare the best no-show socks brands.

24. favorite newbie character?

For S4 newbie, Unique...for S6 newbie, Jane.

25. who would you be most want to be friends with?

Mmm, gonna say Blaine again.

26. if you could have a one night stand with any character, who would you choose?

Cooper or Santana.

27. favorite fan fiction?

You’re asking me my favorite child! Okay, I keep going back to two oldies but goodies...Nothing So Loud by glassparade, and The Luckiest by wordplay.

28. favorite headcanon?

That NYADA was a scam school, or that Kurt’s mom looked exactly like Anne Hathaway (is dream casting a head canon?).

29. favorite person that has guest starred on glee?

I thought you’d never ask...😏 I’m not into Goop and vagina-scented candles, but I still loved Gwyneth Paltrow as Holly Holliday.

[lady-divine-writes]

Five Times Blaine Gets Sick and One Time Kurt Figures Out Why: Chapter 1/6 (Rated T)

This is a commission gone bad, so I’ve decided to start posting it and return the commissioner’s money (which I’ve been trying to do for a bit now but since they’re apparently not in the same country as me, Paypal won’t let me do a straight refund. I have to pay $10 out of my own pocket to return the money, which I’m trying to arrange). This whole thing has been a poop show, let me tell you. A lot of things went wrong. But two things that rubbed me the wrong way about this is a) yes, I was taking a while to get this done. Aside from life, I had seven other commissions, all which this person was told. I even offered to return their money twice before. I was told that as long as it didn’t take till the New Year they were willing to wait. That was apparently a lie. And b) they were stalking my actions on social media. You’ve heard me talk about this before - how someone will say “Hey, I noticed you updated this story. Why don’t you update this one?” That’s what I was getting. They had subscribed to me and was put out that I was doing other work that I enjoy when I had their commission to do. That automatically makes me not want to work on your project. Well, here it is. I’m putting it up in six short chapters, but the work is mine. I don’t want their name attached to it. Read it. Don’t read it. I really don’t care. I just want it off my shoulders and off my plate so I can focus on more important stuff.

***

“I’m dying!” Blaine moans, arms wrapped around his stomach and rolling left and right on the sofa while Kurt tries to snatch the thermometer out of his husband’s mouth.

“You’re not dying. You’re just sick. Now hold still, you big baby, while I check your temperature. Otherwise I’m going to have to do this rectally, and I’m sorry, but I’m not sure our relationship can survive that.”

That comment stops Blaine’s tantrum in its tracks – not because he’s finally being an obedient patient, but because of the absurdity of that remark. Kurt has shoved a great many toys up Blaine’s rear, but a thermometer is where he draws the line? He would love to explore the rationale behind that in greater depth but he’s too busy dealing with his life being violently torn from his corporeal form.

“I am dying. I feel it.”

“What do you feel exactly?” Kurt pounces, grabs the thermometer from between Blaine’s lips and holds it up to the light.

“I’m burning up. It feels like my blood is boiling. My whole body’s on fire!”

“Yeah, well, you have fever,” Kurt informs him, squinting at the red line to make sure. “But it’s not all that high. What else?”

Blaine frowns at the assertion that the fever currently surging through him like lava isn’t all that high. “Well … I’m achy. Like, all over. And my head hurts. I’m thirsty …” He continues pulling out anything he can think of when it looks like Kurt is no longer taking his peril seriously. “I could probably drink the whole ocean!”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea. The saline content would definitely kill you. But congratulations! You have the flu!”

“The flu!? I can’t have the flu! I got a flu shot!”

“Yesterday. You were probably exposed to the flu a week ago and you’re just showing symptoms now. I’ll call Gunther on my way to work and tell him you won’t be at the diner today. And you should email your professors. See if you’ll be missing anything important today at school.”

“You’re … you’re leaving me?” Blaine sits up quickly only to regret it a second later.

“Yes, Blaine. It’s just the flu. It doesn’t even seem like a bad flu. You can take care of yourself.”

“I can’t take care of myself, Kurt! I’m suffering from a fatal disease here!”

Kurt’s eyes roll hard enough to make him dizzy. “You’re not going to die from the flu.”

“People have died from the flu!” Blaine insists. “Google it! It’s possible!”

“Yes, it’s possible, but it’s rare. You’re healthy as a horse. I don’t think it’s going to happen to you.”

“You don’t know that! I could turn a corner in seconds! Th-there was a woman in Minnesota had the flu - seemed fine. Laid down on her sofa for a nap and never woke up!”

“Wasn’t she in her eighties?” Kurt shoves his keys into his pocket and his wallet into his messenger bag. “And didn’t she have, like, diabetes and a heart condition?”

“Don’t know,” Blaine mutters grumpily. “But why take the chance? Wouldn’t it be a good idea for you to stay with me? To be on the safe side?”

“Blaine! I’m only going to be gone for three hours. Four tops! I don’t think you’re going to die in the next four hours!”

“But it feels like I am!”

“You have your cell phone. If you start seeing a bright light and distant relatives coming to greet you, call me, and I’ll have Mrs. Pancetti from next door come check on you. Shoo them away.”

“Kurt!” Blaine stares at Kurt with pleading, blood-shot eyes, and Kurt stares back - stoic, determined not to be swayed. A stand-off ensues, one Kurt doesn’t have time for. In his head, he tells himself to end this ridiculousness, grab his stuff, and go. His husband is a big boy. He’ll be fine. But the more Blaine stares, the more Kurt begins to feel sorry for him. Blaine doesn’t usually get sick. Aside from catching a mega-cold his senior year of high school (which resulted in the infamous Tina Cohen-Chang Vapo-rape incident) Kurt can’t remember the last time Blaine was truly sick.

And he doesn’t seem all that sick now! But Kurt has had the flu before (of course). It can be deceptively mild in the beginning. If Blaine’s is anything like the flus Kurt gets, he’s going to be miserable. And even though he doesn’t consider himself the nurturing type, there’s something deep inside trying its hardest to convince Kurt to stay home and take care of his husband.

And it’s winning.

Kurt checks the clock on his phone and sighs. He’s cutting things close as is. If he’s going to leave, he’d better do it now or else he might as well not even try. At this rate, he’ll miss his connection, hit hellacious traffic, and spend close to an hour stuck on a crowded subway platform. He scrolls through his itinerary in his head – his one class and the few projects he’s contributing to at Vogue.

Can he really afford to miss a day?

Actually, he can. For the first time in a long time, he can.

“Alright,” he groans, but with the twitch of a smile on his lips. “Give me a minute, let me iron out a few things, and I’ll be back to hang out with you.”

“Yay!” Blaine giggles, fluffing his pillow and snuggling beneath his thick comforter.

“I’m going to go to the bedroom and get changed. Try not to die too loudly.”

“This is going to be great, Kurt!” Blaine calls after him. “You’ll see. I … I know I’m sick, but we can watch trash TV and play video games and …”

“Hold that thought.” Kurt ducks behind the privacy curtain. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Kurt drops his bag and unzips his boots. He shoots Isabelle a text, wincing while he gives her what he feels is a thin excuse, but that’s because he has his father’s work ethic. No missing work unless he’s caught in a fire or bleeding profusely out his head. He doesn’t like bowing out on his responsibilities without giving people twenty-four hours’ notice. But Blaine getting sick? Incapacitated? (That’s what he tells Isabelle has happened to assuage his own guilt.) That cropped up this morning. And it’s an emergency, right? Emergencies don’t tend to give 24 hours’ notice. So if he didn’t have it, how could he give it?

Besides, it’s been a long time since he’s had a dedicated day off with his husband. Their schedules for the past six months have turned them into proverbial ships passing one another in the night. They share the occasional meal, get one date night every two weeks, but they’ve been overwhelmed by mid-year exams and double-shifts at the diner. Maybe Blaine’s flu is a blessing in disguise. Sure Kurt will be playing nursemaid, but Blaine is awfully cute when he’s needy. He’ll cling to Kurt like a baby sloth. They’ll watch TV and cuddle, Blaine’s hot skin pressed against his as he feeds his husband apple sauce and they catch up on life.

He’ll be missing an exciting day at Vogue, but this will be worth it.

“Okay, Blaine!” Kurt strips off the stylish outfit he’d chosen for the day and puts on his pajamas, rushing as he becomes more and more excited. He yanks on his socks, slides his feet into his carpet slippers, and sashays back to the living room. “Let’s play hooky!”

But by the time he returns, Blaine is fast asleep.

[migleefulmoments]

"I can see him sneaking odd socks in his pocket to switch them out in the car." OMG LOLOLOLOL. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! I actually just read this. A grown-ass woman pushing fifty literally just posted this about her online fake fantasy fetish and BELIEVES IT'S TRUE. Oh god, the other tinhats are seriously in need of help too if they see this as normal behaviour and aren't trying to stage an intervention on her by this point. This is actually scary. Poor Darren with a "fan" like this.

Abby didn’t write it so you are spot on- other tinhatters fully believe it and Abby reblogged it because it resonated with her. UGH. It is one of the most insane posts I’ve read to date. 

So much pain but only they SEE his pain. Of course they also blow off the success that is having one’s own show-created by, written by, MUSIC written by, and starring Darren Criss is a huge deal. If the show is successful he cements himself as a power broker in Hollywood and can write his own ticket for many years to come. To follow that up with Hollywood, acting and exec producing is HUGE. They argue he should be ignoring those pissy projects and focus on Elsie. That isn’t reasonable advice, that is wanting to keep things the way they are- understandable and CCfocused. The Darren who loves Elsie is not the Darren who married Mia, he is the Darren who loves Chris, the familiar Darren. I have no idea what the finances of Elsie are but having a successful Elsie Fest in no way compares to a successful Royalties are far as money, power, and a career making move. Elsie has been successful for 4 years and yet it hasn’t moved Darren’s career. It’s a passion project and one that I throughly enjoy so I won’t complain, but come on. 

They like to believe that Darren is only able to express himself honestly when he sings and then they insert Chris into every song he sings. Of course you could insert Chris into the work of any artist and it would fit because love songs are generic so that we can all identify with them. That is what makes them so successful. Believing he is speaking through lyrics is brilliant because it allows them to discount everything he says and does in his real life and simply fixate on the Chris-inserted love songs. It’s brilliant...petty, stupid and wrong, but it is brilliant. Actual people don’t express themselves on a daily basis by bursting into song, but Kurt and Blaine did and that feels comfortable. 

[wowbright]

Fic: A New Beginning

Tan Hands and Tan Lines SmuttySmooty Word Challenge 2021: bow

Words: ~1800 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Blaine and Kurt—no, Elder Hummel—get ready for the concert.

I’m belatedly going through the prompts for The Tan Hands and Tan Lines Summer Event 2021 to flesh out my Mormon!Klaine universe. I’m sorry to say, the Angel Moroni has stayed my hand from writing actual smut for most of the smut prompts. Think of it as “emotional smut” instead. Or “smoot”, which is a hilarious Mormon pun—at least, I think it is.

This vignette takes place just before Firefly.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: If you have any questions or typo corrections, feel free to use my ask box!

--------

Blaine tightened his necktie and looked at himself in the mirror.

Ugh. This one wasn't right, either.

The problem was, he'd been through every single one of his missionary neckties, and none of them felt right for the occasion. And none ever would. Neckties were fine for passing the sacrament and doing missionary work; they were part of the uniform, and uniforms were a good thing when you were doing work on behalf of the Lord. Like the temple clothing, they served as an emblem of men’s equality before God. And they were a reminder that you were not representing yourself, but something much bigger.

But for going out? Blaine didn't want to be in a uniform for that. They wouldn't be proselytizing at the concert; President Steele told them specifically that they shouldn't approach anyone with the Gospel, though of course they could answer questions if others approached them. And if they weren't proselytizing, why did he have to wear a uniform?

Elder Hummel knocked at the door. “Are you decent?”

“No,” Blaine groaned. “But I'm dressed.”

The door swung open a smidge. Elder Hummel peeked his head through. “Having unvirtuous thoughts?”

“It’s not that.” Blaine loosened his tie. “I just … my outfit isn’t coming together. None of my ties feel right.”

Elder Hummel’s eyes lit up. “I can solve that for you.”

“Please. I'm at my wit’s end.”

“Okay. But  first, how about you take a break from thinking about ties for a moment and tell me how the back of my jacket looks? Contorting myself in front of the bathroom mirror doesn't really give me the best view.”

“Sure,” Blaine said. “Come in.”

Elder Hummel swung the door all the way open and stepped into the bedroom. For the past week, he'd been using bits of their downtime to do a round of alterations on the self-sewn black suit he’d had since the beginning of his mission. His previous bout of alterations had been two or three companions ago, and somewhere along the way he had grown and the suit had not. The hems revealed too much of his socks when he sat down, the sleeves too much of his wrists, and the shoulders were too tight—well, Elder Hummel said the shoulders were too tight, but from Blaine’s perspective, the snugness of jacket was quite flattering in how it highlighted his companion’s broadening physique.

Elder Hummel stepped into the bedroom and did a twirl. “It’s okay?”

Blaine’s jaw dropped open. Okay was not an adequate word to describe the suit or how his companion looked in it. Subtle new differences in the seams and shaping brought out the long, lean lines of his companion's body. Elder Hummel was graceful and mature, and when he lifted his arms, the sleeves of which were now an inch longer, Blaine was reminded of the long, elegant neck of a black swan. “You're amazing, Elder Hummel. You look incredible.”

“Enough with the compliments,” Elder Hummel said. “I need an honest critique.”

“I'm serious. But if you insist.” Blaine stepped closer to inspect the seams for flaws. He couldn't find any. He thought he should at least be able to see the shadows of the old seams that Elder Hummel had let out, but he couldn't find them. Elder Hummel had done an expert job of pressing them out. The only imperfections Blaine could find were a few stray threads, which he picked off and dropped into the wastebasket, and pronounced his judgment. “Flawless.”

Hummel eyed Blaine suspiciously. “You better not be buttering me up.”

“I wouldn't. Scout's honor. I strive to be honest in all my dealings with my fellow man.”

“Well, if you put it that way …” Elder Hummel turned his attention to Blaine’s latest necktie debacle. He took the end of the tie between his fingers and inspected the pattern. “You’re right. This won't do at all. Here.” He lifted his hands to the loosened knot around Blaine’s throat and undid it. The slide of the fabric against the back of Blaine’s neck, though blunted by his shirt collar, sent a frisson of heat down Blaine’s spine.

Elder Hummel folded and rolled the tie neatly, then placed it back in Blaine’s half-open tie drawer. “Where's the tie your brother sent you for Easter? Did you shove it all the way in the back?”

“No. It's in the bottom drawer with the CD. Why would I keep it in my tie drawer if I can't wear it?”

Elder Hummel bent over and pulled the bottom drawer open. “Because you can wear it. You’re going to wear it tonight. It’s the perfect fit for that suit and the occasion.”

“I know we're not proselytizing, but we’ll still have our nametags on.”

“You’ve worn a bow tie on P-day, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but …” Blaine had only started doing that recently, and mostly just around the apartment and at the grocery store.

Elder Hummel got out the blue bow tie with a tasteful pattern of small musical notations and held it out toward Blaine. “Look. I don't want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. But I think this bow tie has been screaming your name ever since you took it out of the box, and it's secretly killing you that you haven't worn it yet. Am I right?”

Elder Hummel really was incredible. A talented seamster, a wise senior companion and also, apparently, a psychic. Blaine acquiesced. “You're right.”

Elder Hummel smiled. He stepped closer to Blaine and draped the tie around the back of his neck, then moved his hands to Blaine’s throat, looping the tie and tightening it gently around his collar. It was an unexpected and beautifully intimate moment, reminding Blaine of when he was younger and his mother would help him with his ties before church, but also wholly different.

Kurt patted his hands against the fabric on Blaine’s collarbone and studied his work. “Yes,” he said. “That’s more you.” He slid his hands to Blaine’s shoulders and turned him toward the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Oh,” said Blaine. He felt like a leading lady in one of those makeover montages. The reflection gazing back at him looked handsome, at ease with himself, and comfortable in his own skin. And all it had taken was a simple bow tie.

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s shoulders. “Was that a good ‘oh’?”

“It’s the best, Kurt, it’s—” Blaine caught himself. Just because his companion had suggested the bow tie didn't mean he had consented to other liberties. “Thank you, Elder Hummel. It’s perfect.”

“I may have had ulterior motives,” Elder Hummel said slyly. He slid his hands from Blaine’s shoulders, lightly brushing his upper arms as he pulled away, and turned toward the dresser.

Blaine’s body felt suddenly lonely, the way it did every evening when they broke their hug.

“Because if you’re wearing a bow tie, I certainly get to wear this.” Elder Hummel’s hand emerged from the drawer with a roll of black fabric.

“A black necktie?” Blaine said, failing to see how this was pushing the rules.

“Not just a necktie, mein Herr,” Elder Hummel said, unrolling the tie into a long strip and holding it up to the mirror. “A skinny tie.”

Blaine’s heart skipped. Elder Hummel was being edgy. This was all kinds of fun. “Here,” Blaine said, reaching for the tie, “allow me to return the favor.”

Elder Hummel gave Blaine a questioning look, but let him take the tie.

Blaine stepped close, like when they were about to hug, and reached up to pull the tie around the back of Kurt’s neck. His top three buttons were undone; Blaine pulled the plackets closed over Kurt’s pale skin and fastened them, moving from the button closest to Kurt’s garment neckline and up to his throat. He felt Kurt swallow beneath his fingers.

It had been while since Blaine had done another guy’s tie, but back when he'd been in high school theater, he'd done it constantly; now, the motor memory came back to him so surely that he didn't even have to watch his hands as he did it. He looked into Kurt’s eyes, saying nothing in words but letting his hands do the speaking. And Kurt didn't look away. He gazed at Blaine, his mouth open slightly, his breathing slow and steady, his body warm.

“There,” Blaine said when he was done, releasing the tie and brushing his hands across Kurt’s shoulders. “Handsome as ever.”

Blaine stepped back so his companion could look in the mirror. Elder Hummel ran his hand down the front of his tie and buttoned his jacket closed over it. “It needs something else.”

“It needs nothing.”

Elder Hummel shook his head at Blaine’s reflection in the mirror. “So you think. But you don't know.” He disappeared down the hall and shut the bathroom door behind him. Blaine sat on his bed and daydreamed about how dashing they would look walking into the theater together.

But even Blaine couldn't imagine the full extent of their physical charm. Not until Elder Hummel re-entered the bedroom with his hair swept up in what almost amounted to a pompadour. It defied gravity, cresting almost two inches from the top of his scalp.

“Wow,” said Blaine. That hairstyle was definitely not regulation.

Kurt looked bashfully at the floor. “Now you have an idea of what I look like when I'm not a missionary.”

Blaine had seen this hairstyle on Kurt before, but only in photographs, like his prom picture with Mercedes. And he'd been so much younger then, not the man he was now.

To see it now, on the Kurt he knew, was breathtaking. No wonder the mission hair regulations were so strict. They must have been written in anticipation of Elder Hummel. If he walked around with his hair like that all the time, he'd be badgered constantly with marriage proposals and modeling contracts, and they’d never get any proselytizing work done.

Blaine stood from his bed and reached out his hand. “Glad to meet you, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt smiled. He shook Blaine’s hand. “Likewise, Blaine Anderson.”

They rode their bikes slowly to the concert hall. It was a lovely building with modern architecture and large windows around the lobby. As Blaine walked up the concrete staircase to the entrance, he thought of Cinderella entering the prince’s dance hall. Like her, Blaine had been transformed into his truest self for the evening. And though this night might not lead to his happily ever after, it felt somehow like a new beginning.

[crazedlunatic]

“Sick Day”

“So… uhm… I can’t come to work today.”

“…Why not?”

Blaine scowled at his cell phone, hearing Bob’s voice.

“Uh because I might be… uhm… drunk?” Blaine tilted his head, staring at his phone.

“You might be… drunk?” Bob repeated.

“Yeah I thought it was juice and… well, it was juice…” Blaine hiccuped. “But, yeah… they didn’t tell me… yeah. Did you have a good night?”

“Blaine. I need you to focus. Did you have any trials today?”

“I dunno. You know, it just tasted good and I’m kinda dumb when it comes to alcohol but I didn’t know it was alcohol but, Bob, it was….” Blaine then whispered, “Alcohol.”

“Where is Kurt?”

“Kurt?”

“Your husband, Kurt. The guy that’s taller than you and makes outfits for a living?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah. He went to work…” Blaine paused and then added, “He’s not drunk, though.”

“Does he know  you are?”

“I gotta go puke now, Bob. Bob? Robert? Bobbert? What did they put in this? Oh my God.” Blaine hung up his phone and began puking into the toilet.

Because, yeah, his sons might be born in four days… but here he was drunk.

Why did he want juice at six in the morning anyway?

He heard the front door open and called, “Kurt, I did something stupid!”

Bob walked into the bathroom, looking some mixture of annoyed and amused.

“Hey!” Blaine said cheerfully. “Is it time for you to be home from work already? Did I fall asleep?”

“Oh, Blaine.” Bob cringed, flushed the toilet, and eased Blaine into a standing position.

“Did you know that once when I got drunk, I totally stole a car and got arrested? Super Trooper was an asshat but I like Matt. He’s just a Matt-hat.”

“I seem to recall something like that. How much did you drink?”

“All of it ‘cause it tasted really good. Kurt didn’t know ‘cause I fell asleep and then I woke up and I think I’m still kinda drunk ‘cause there’s two of  you… do you have a twin? Did I know you had a twin?”

“For someone so smart, you sure are pretty oblivious.” Bob sighed, reaching out and wrapping his arms around Blaine’s waist seconds before he would have fallen on the floor.

“Yeah. David’s mom says I’m perfect anyway, though. She’s nice.” Blaine let out a content little sigh. “Did I tell you I think I’m drunk?”

“Oh, you are definitely drunk. There is no ‘think’ about it, Blaine. How did you not know you were drinking alcohol?”

“’Cause I have a sinus infection and couldn’t spell it. Smell it? No, spell it.”

Bob sat Blaine on the couch.

Blaine gasped. “Hey, did you know I got married last month? I almost forgot but I saw my ring. I like Kurt.”

“I was there. I gave a speech. Remember?”

“I don’t know my middle name right now. Was it nice?”

“Your middle name?”

“No. The speech.”

“… What did you drink?”

“I dunno.” Blaine shrugged.

“You stay right there.” Bob went into the kitchen.

Blaine, of course, followed him.

“Blaine.” Bob sighed grabbing an unlabeled and very empty bottle.

“See? Didn’t know! I thought it was juice.”

“… You drank the whole thing?”

“It just kept tasting better and better.”

“You weren’t joking about being a lightweight since your DUI, were you?”

Blaine’s eyes widened in horror. “You know about that?”

“Blaine, I’m pretty sure I know everything about you.”

Blaine looked at him. “Do you know my favorite position?”

“Pos—what? No!”

“Well then you don’t know everything but if you want full disclosure—”

“There are some lines you just can’t go back from, Blaine—”

“They’re both awesome.” Blaine finished. “What did you say?”

“I have never had to take care of Charlie or Brady hung over. This is payback for that fucking alpaca.”

“Did you know that’s like a camel but so is a llama but not a goat. Also, goats have weird eyes. And my uncle had a goat but it’s foot fell off and then it died. Wait. You have an alpaca?”

“Yes, Blaine. It’s in my backyard.” Bob said sarcastically.

Blaine turned in the direction of the door.

“Blaine, I don’t have an alpaca!” Bob called when he heard it open.

“Well, why’d you go and lie?”

Bob came back into the living room as he pulled out his phone, seeing Blaine attempting to take his shoe off.

“Whatcha doing?” Blaine grunted, looking up.

“Hey, Ryan… No, I’m not coming in. Blaine isn’t either… Because he’s fucking plastered. Yes, Blaine Anderson… Anderson-Hummel, whatever. He’s shitfaced and didn’t even know he was drinking alcohol… this early in the morning.”

“Hi, Ryan!” Blaine called.

“He says hi.” Bob sighed.

Blaine got the most adorable look on his face that Bob had probably ever seen… that wasn’t on a toddler or baby, at least.

Which Blaine pretty much was at the moment.

“Okay. Bye… yeah, don’t tell anyone. Well, it may cheer Adrian up but don’t tell anyone else… no, I’m not going to send a picture.”

“I WILL!” Blaine called, grabbing his phone and sending Ryan a selfie.

“Have fun? Ha.” Bob hung up.

Blaine sat up straight on the couch, blinking at Bob.

“Gotta throw up?”

“Nope.” Blaine shook his head, his short curls bouncing.

Bob sat next to him, shaking his own head.

“Am I going to get a write up?”

“No, Blaine.” Bob laughed. “You’re getting a sick day.”

Blaine gave one small nod, looking thoughtful.

“What?”

“Do you ever think you made the wrong choice?” Blaine sat up straight, looking at Bob with wide hazel eyes.

“Wrong choice?”

“Being a lawyer. I know you did it because your dad wanted you to.”

“There are times I thought I did and other times I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be… but I think that’s everyone.” Bob said slowly. “The good thing about being young is that if you want to, you can still change your mind and get a graduate degree in anything you want to do. You’ve got that money to help out.”

“No.” Blaine shook his head, frowning. “I don’t want to do that. I want to be a lawyer.”

“You should do what makes you feel fulfilled.”

“I think it does.” Blaine sighed and rubbed his face.

“What is this really about?”

“I don’t know how to be a dad.” Blaine’s voice was so soft Bob almost thought he’d made the words up in his head.

“What do you mean?”

“What if I end up like my dad? I mean, nobody expects to end up like that but—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Blaine.” Bob said sternly.

Blaine sighed.

“Do you want to know a little secret?” Bob asked, relaxing against the back of the couch. He then raised his arm up and pulled Blaine towards him.

“Sure.” Blaine sighed again, rubbing his cheek and leaning against Bob.

“Nobody knows how to be a dad or a mom or even a grandparent. It’s not like a switch turns on… you just stumble and hope for the best.” Bob said, ruffling Blaine’s curls.

“Yeah but most people have a good example. My dad was shitty.”

“You don’t need a good dad to be an example of how to be a good father. You just love and accept them no matter what, give them the best you can within your means, and you pick them up when they fall… and try not to lose your temper too much.” Bob said.

“Yeah well David and Wes learned from their dads. Kurt will know from his dad.”

“You know, Blaine… you’re pretty lucky. Your parents may be shit but you’ve also got a lot of other adults in your life that gave you good examples. Your friends’ parents, Kurt’s dad…”

“And you.” Blaine pointed out.

“All any of those people or I did was try and that’s what matters. Try to be there for your babies and do your best. Nobody would ask more from you.” Bob leaned down, kissing the top of Blaine’s head.

“I really wish you were my dad.” Blaine sighed and rubbed his cheek.

“I really wish that too, Blaine. And just so we’re clear—and by we, I mean you— I consider you as much my son as I do Charlie, Brady, Sam, and Miles.” Bob pulled back a bit to look at him, his voice gentle. “And I love you just as much as them and I would do anything for you just like I would do for them.”

Blaine nodded, making eye contact.

“I’m not just saying it.”

“I know.” Blaine bit his lip. “It’s hard to get used to, I guess.”

“Well you’ve got until I die to get used to it and the doctor says I’m healthy, so that gives you a while.”

Blaine smiled a bit.

“Just be you, Blaine. Your sons couldn’t ask for a better father… and you’ll learn what you don’t know. You and Kurt will have all sorts of help too. Especially from Sarah and I. Okay?”

Blaine nodded although he didn’t look convinced.

“I love you, Blaine, and I won’t let you fuck up.” Bob made eye contact again.

“I love you too.” Blaine said. He’d heard it from Bob a lot, but this was the first time he’d said it back.

“I know.” Bob looked surprised but ruffled his hair again and pulled him close. “You should get some sleep before the hangover sets in.”

Blaine nodded and sat up. “Did I tell you that when I was fifteen and sixteen I sang at theme parks for money?”

Bob let out a loud laugh. “How much money did you make?”

“Not enough for the embarrassment honestly.” Blaine leaned against him again, smiling a bit.

Bob ran his hand up and down Blaine’s back, hoping he would fall asleep.

“Bob?” Blaine sat up.

“Yes, Blaine?”

“Can… Would it be weird if our kids think you… are my dad?”

“No, Blaine… but you better start getting me a Father’s Day present.”

Blaine laughed and relaxed against him again. “Do socks count?”

“Can I take that back?” Bob grinned.

Blaine let out a loud hiccup and then glared at Bob. “That was rude.”

“Has anyone ever told you I was nice?” Bob gave him a look.

“I think you’re nice… to me?” Blaine attempted a sweet face.

“I will only accept socks from you, Blaine.”

“Good because that’s clearly all I can afford.”

Bob rolled his eyes and gave Blaine a squeeze.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Do you happen to have any Klaine fics where one of them is suicidal and the other helps them through it?

Hey Nonnie,

Please find below a list of fics that fit these criteria. Heed the warnings for each story - some have suicide attempts, and there’s plenty of other angst.

Hugs,

Marjan

One Good Day by @anxioussquirrel

Kurt and Blaine broke up before Kurt went to New York. The five years since then have been grinding Blaine down and it finally breaks him. He decides to kill himself, but when he’s got everything organized, he realizes he wants just one good day to take with him. A day with Kurt. 

The Kurt Project by Cleverboots (Amberlovesocean)

Blaine  and the Warblers have set up a hotline loosely based on The Trevor Project to help confused and depressed gay, lesbian, bi and trans kids in Lima and Westerville. One night before the hotline is fully operational, Blaine is alone in the building - no supporting therapists, counsellors, or other professionals to help and he hasn’t had his peer counselling training yet.

Blaine answers the phone to find a distraught boy on the other end, and all the boy wants is a pair of warm socks before he jumps into the icy white water flowing under the bridge to end his life.

*NOTE: Just so you know, there are no character deaths in this story. I only write happy endings for our boys!!

Exsanguination: A Love Story by @inkystars (okay, this one is DEFINITELY not for the faint-hearted, but if you like horror stories, this is perfect for Halloween)

In the wintery mists of Provincetown, a grieving boy who wants to die and an undead boy who doesn’t know how to live help each other to find out the meaning of being alive.

Recapturing Life by scrunchycolfer

Kurt is a little lost in his mundane life. The last thing he expects to come across on his walk home is a lone windblown figure perched on the wrong side of the railing on the edge of the bridge, poised and ready to jump.

Kurt rushes to save him. With his arms wrapped around the waist of this total stranger, failing over and over to talk him down reasonably, he makes a desperate gamble. The man’s 25th birthday approaches, and Kurt bets that before then, he can prove that life is worth living.

So against the ticking of the clock, the two strangers embark on wild adventures, trying to find the best parts of being alive. Slowly, Kurt thinks that it might be working, and this man might be falling in love with his life again. But is that all that’s happening?

Down on the Corner by @flowerfan2

AU after Season 5/ Alt!s6. Blaine went back to Lima after the breakup, but Kurt stayed in New York.  They do in fact reunite on the corner outside the loft in six months, but it doesn’t go as either of them expected.  Over the course of the next year, Blaine struggles to find himself, and Kurt struggles to find Blaine.  And while they both realize that love doesn’t necessarily conquer all, they discover that it definitely helps.

Tw:  depression.

Hurricane by A Phrase That Cuts These Lips

Two years after Kurt and Blaine’s divorce, Kurt finally wins custody of their daughter. A week later, Blaine attempts suicide. He has nowhere else to go, so Kurt volunteers to take him in, believing that he can help Blaine. 

[axelsagewrites]

Keep Your Enemies Close*Sebastian Smythe

Requested via wattpad

Can you do an imagine where Sebastian and reader and secretly dating and no one on the New Directions knows but then they get caught in Sebastian’s dorm room kissing?

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

 Sebashtian X GenderNeutral!Reader

The idea that we should hate the warblers just because they’re our competition is ridiculous. Glee’s all about bringing music lovers together so we can make friends. Can't we all just be one?

What I really mean is cAN THEY JUST GET OVER IT SO I CAN KISS MY BOYFRIEND!?

I’d met Sebastian before I even knew he was a warbler. We went on a couple dates before it even came up. And when it did we didn’t mind that much. A little friendly competition. Plus doing duets with a boyfriend is actually a really cool way to spend a date.

When New Directions and the Warblers started feuding we agreed not to tell them despite the Warblers knowing.

Maybe it’s, because it's an all-boys school or them, aren’t as petty but theirs so much less drama. If we told the New Directions, they wouldn’t be happy. Hell, they might kick me out.

When I told Sebastian, he didn’t believe me…until I told him about Jesse. Sure, Jesse did turn out to be a bad guy, but Sebastian didn’t even know I was in glee when we met.

 Glee club was normally fun but right now their all arguing over whether we should do something to the Warblers. Rachel wants to do a sing-off, Mr Shue wants to make peace, Finn wants to break some headlights, and Santana wants to break some kneecaps.

As their fighting, I take a back seat. And something somewhat relevant is that I'm texting Bash who’s also bored in practice. They need to practise a trio act for a local event, so he and some other warblers are able to have a break.

“What do you think (Y/N)?” I pause writing my message and look up to see Rachel standing with her hands on her hips “Shouldn't we show them what we're made of?”

Normally I’m a petty betty but not this time “Honestly I think you should chill. Getting worked up just shows them your scared their gonna win.” I shrug. My answers based in truth since Bash and I had been talking about it last night.

Everyone stared at me, wide-eyed “Who replaced you? Are you malfunctioning?” Kurt asked.

“I just can't be bothered wasting our time and effort when we could be practising.”

“(Y/N) is right,” Mr Shue cuts in “We should be practising. C’mon, everyone start to warm up. We practise in 5.”

I sigh and finish my text, telling Bash I had to go.

Y – Gotta go. Love you

S – love you too. Love your eyes and hair and perfect personality. Love everything about you especially the fact I can call you mine. Can't wait to see you after school

An involuntary smile spreads across my face. Everyone might think he's the devil but if anything, he’s an angel who fell but gets back up.

“What you smiling at?” I snap my head up to see Rory trying to look at my phone.

I quickly put it on standby so all he sees is a black screen. “Nothing.”

“OH, (Y/N) is texting a boy” He sang. This gathered some attention.

“You have a boyfriend?”

“Since when?”

“You talk to boys?”

“Who is it?”

I groan “I'm not talking to anyone.”

“Sure” Rory drags out his word “Then pray tell us why you were grinning like you found a pot of gold.”

I was silent for a moment “My mom made brownies.”

“Your mom can't bake,” Blaine points out “So who's the boy toy?”

“Have you lot got nothing better to do than talk about my lack of love life?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Maybe practise?” Mr Shue suggests.

I'm grateful they're forced to drop the subject. But I'm even more grateful its last period and I can go see Seb after.

 I watch the clock tick tick tick, and as soon as the second land hits 12 I grab my bag. Ring. I'm out the door the second it rings.

One of the warblers, John, has a car and was on a coffee run so said he could take me over to Dalton after school. I had to be quick though. For one, so I wasn’t rude, and two because his car didn’t exactly fit in.

It's no secret that Dalton students are well off. Especially since my ride drove a shiny black Range Rover. It contrasts the dented, banged up cars people from my school drive.

Jumping in the car I inhale the luxury car smell. “When I get my licence, you have got to hook a friend up,” I tell him.

He chuckles “You know my dad owns the dealership. Thiers a friends and family discount,”

I sigh a sigh of happiness as I lean back into the seat, fastening my belt. “Let's get out of here. It's bringing down the value of your car.”

“Trust me, I know.”

Honestly, since dating Seb, the warblers have become some of my closest friends. Like in uptown girl they actually are intrigued by how ‘normal’ people live. Last weekend some of us went to a normal café for lunch and some of them got confused since the food names were in English.

 I only talk with the Warblers for around a minutes before Sebastian pulls me aside “Hey, you left your book in my dorm. Come to get it?” Which was code for ‘I want to be alone with you and you better start walking quick or I'm not responsible for my actions’.

  Santana’s POV

That (Y/N) is a slippery one. During a short practise break, I walk over to Kurt, hair gel, and Mercedes. “Something's up with (Y/N) and I don’t like it.”

“Huh?”

I roll my eyes at Mercedes. “They're never off their phone, they practically sprint out of school, and when was the last time they hung out after school or at weekends?” I cross my arms.

They all only suddenly seem to realise “Your right. They are being strange.” Kurt says.

“Duh. That’s why I'm here.”

“Well, what are we meant to do? They're not gonna tell us.” Hair gel buts in.

I roll my eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We follow them.”

 So, hair gel backed out. Something about morals or something. But Mercedes and Kurt were down. Like I thought they basically ran out of the room. We were hot on their tails.

But this got the attention of everyone's least favourite couple. “Where are you going?” Rachel and Finn ran to keep up with us.

I looked as they got into a nice ass car and sped off. “Hey, can we borrow your car.” It wasn’t really a question and I was already by his passenger door.

“Wha- “

“It’s an emergency,” Kurt told him.

We managed to convince him, but he and Berry decided to come. We managed to get 3 or 4 cars behind them, so we could still see them.

Then they turned into Dalton? Are they trying to steal (Y/N)? everyone shares a look and Finn turns in.

When we walk in I walk over to the first boy I see; a small skinny nerdy kid with thicker glasses than his skull “Hey, dork.” I walk over “You seen (Y/N). ‘Bout this tall- “I went to describe them, but he cut me off.

“Yeah, she went with Sebastian.” He answered almost instantly.

I looked back to everyone else with a confused look, matching theirs, “Where are they?”

  (Y/N) POV

Times like these are the best. Its quiet, peaceful, and we don’t have to worry about time or someone walking in and seeing Seb’s tongue down my throat.

His dorm mate has gaming club till 6 so we have 2 and a half hours. Plus, in Dalton, they have a code. No, not the standard tie or sock over the door. Instead if there’s a school bag by the door they get the memo. Alone time. Or if you have a partner together time.

“You're beautiful,” Seb murmured against my lips.

“I love you.”

His thumb strokes over my cheek, almost touching my lip “I'm in awe of you. I didn’t realise you could love someone this much.” However, his mood seems to change slightly when he rolls us so he’s on top of me “Or that someone could be this hot.”

He kisses me harder than before, becoming more intense. His hands roam my body as mine tug on his hair, making him groan.

I know where this is going to lead, especially when I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him closer.

Its pure bliss until “What the fuck!” Our heads both snapped to the side to see 5 shocked looking New Directions standing in the doorway, holding the backpack.

Sebastian drops his head into the crook of my neck, murmur “Of fucking course.” While I lay there stunned.

Quickly I detach my legs and drop my hands. Sebastian looks up from my neck “Can you like leave? were in the middle of something.” I didn’t even know what to say.

“Yeah defiling our friend!” Kurt accuses.

Sebastian smirks “(Y/N) wasn’t complaining. Not even when I- “

“I don’t want to hear it!” Finn said, shaking his head.

I tap Sebastian's shoulder, making him look at me “Didn’t we talk about not telling them?”

“I think they’ve figured it out, babe.”

“Babe?!” Santana screeches.

Sensing this wasn’t going to be over quickly Sebastian sat up, letting me do the same. I smoothed down my hair, seeing Mercedes shake her head out the corner of my eyes. “I can't believe this. You're fraternizing with the enemy.”

“Keep your enemies close?” I try. They shake their heads. I sigh, sitting up properly. “Look, you guys don’t get a say in this. We met, not knowing that we were in glee clubs. We also, unlike you, aren’t afraid of a little competition. And we enjoy spending time with each without involving music. So, get over it.”

“What if you give away all out secrets?” Rachel asked in her high-pitched voice. “Then what?”

“Why would I do that? I want to wipe the floor with them.”

“Not a chance” Bash said.

I roll my eyes “Honey when we were singing Taylor Swift Love Story you were flatter than a 12-year-old girl. I have nothing to worry about.”

“At least we can dance.” He countered.

“Oh yes, how boyband chic” I roll my eyes. “Your just mad because you and the boys are going to have to pay up.”

“Pay up?” Mercedes asked.

I turned to them, having almost forgetting they were still their “Oh yeah we have a bet on. If the warblers win, I’ll have to clean every one of their bedrooms. But if we win- “

“-we all have to work for (Y/N) for a week. As PA’s, cooks, cleaners, or whatever their twisted hearts decides.”

Kurt shook his head “I still don’t approve. You’re just using (Y/N) to hurt them. You probably don’t even like them- “

“Don’t you ever say that again,” Sebastian stood up. I tried to grab his hand, but he moved. Apparently, when he brought me up to his dad he had highly discouraged the relationship and was now very defensive. “You don’t get it because your too wrapped up in your own problems. But I love (Y/N). I would rather quit the warblers than break up. Hell, I’d even start buying target clothes rather than breakup.”

I almost gasped. Sebastian's wardrobe was probably more expensive than all my possessions combined. Lucky bastard.

“Then do it. We’ll only ever approve if you quit Glee.” Santana glared at him, arms crossed.

He looked at me “Fine. I’ll text the warblers now.” He reached for his phone.

“No!” I grabbed it out of his hand “Your all being ridiculous. You don’t get a say in our relationship. And you're not quitting glee. You’ve been dancing since you were 3 and singing for years and I'm not going to be the person who gets in the way.”

“It’s the only way.” Santana stood strong.

Mercedes, Finn, and even Kurt seemed to be a little conflicted, but Rachel and Satan stood strong. “Fine,” I shrugged “I quit Glee. Good luck finding someone to learn my choreography in 2 weeks and getting a new member.”

Rachel and Santana looked at each other “Fine,” Rachel sighed “You can…do whatever this is,” she gestured at us with a disgusted look “But no spilling secrets!”

“Didn’t plan on it.” She nodded.

Santana walked over to shake on it. After Sebastian said, “Now can you all leave, we were in the middle of something.”

“Ew,” Santana said, holding her hands in the air with a shaking head as she left.

“Oh and put the bag back.”

“Why?”

“Teachers found out about the tie, not bags.”

“EW!”

[warblerswickedwords]

7 Undeniable Signs You’re INCREDIBLE In Bed by warblerswickedwords

Summary: The one where Kurt tries to prove himself. Inspired by a list I found in Women's Health Magazine.

Rated NC-17, 3,500+ words. Posted as a multi-chapter fic on AO3. 

                                                          ...

Kurt has got to stop listening to Rachel.

It’s not an easy task, considering she’s one of his closest friends and they may be living together soon, but he should try to tune her out. Hell, he did it for most of sophomore year, and the hustle of New York City will only aid him.

Right now he and Mercedes are having a sleepover- we’ll only get so many more weekends together Kurt! She pleaded - and they’re sprawled across Mercedes bed with a plethora of magazines.

“I know you love to workout but Women’s Health? Really?” Mercedes asks, flipping through the sleek pages. Kurt laughs, giving her a pointed I told you so look.

“While I admire you acknowledging my rigorous workout routine Mercedes, there really is a larger benefit to these researched articles as opposed to the trash in Teen Vogue or Cosmopolitan,” Rachel says all in one breath.

“And at least you didn’t put her in charge of food,” Kurt adds.

Mercedes snorts, half at his comment and half at the article opened on her lap. “You've got to be kidding me.”

Rachel plucks the magazine from her and flips from “A Three-Minute Workout to Burn Belly Fat” to “5 Types of Orgasms Every Woman Should Have In Her Life”.

“Okay…” Mercedes starts. “This isn't really anything I need.”

“Are you sure?” Rachel prods. “Because I'm sure Sam, or any man in Los Angeles would appreciate-”

“I'm gonna stop you right there,” she says, cutting her off. “I'll let you two,” she adds a wink in Kurt’s direction, “Have at these. I'm getting more popcorn.”

“Soooo Kurt,” Rachel says, once Mercedes leaves the room and she's done giggling. “You and Blaine?”

“As if you don't already know,” Kurt objects, attempting to shut her down. He's already told her all (or at least the vaguest description possible) of what they're doing. Rachel on the other hand, has offered and delivered many unwanted details about her and Finn.

“I'm just saying, give it a shot,” she slides the magazine towards him and opens to a page that she’s already dog-eared.

Kurt rolls his eyes but places it to his side anyway to appease her.

•••

When Kurt comes back home the next afternoon, his skin feel rejuvenated from the homemade face mask Mercedes doctored up last night. Regardless, he's bored and Blaine had sent him a flirty text saying he'd miss him while he's out with his mom at a charity luncheon. After flipping though the current and last month issue of Vogue he decides to go through the Women's Health that Rachel gave him- mostly so he has something to do with Chicago on in the background- until he gets to the page that Rachel has marked and he makes the regretful decision of letting his mind wander.

To Rachel: How accurate is this (trashy) “health” magazine?

To Kurt: Test it and find out ;)

•••

He clenches his hands and feet 

Kurt wasn't sure how he was going to go about this. His first thought was 69ing, but that could easily be a strain on his flexibility and is way kinkier than anything they've done so far, he decides he’ll take the riskier route and make up his plan as he goes along.

“Lie down,” he whispers into Blaine's ear from where he's been kissing his neck the past few minutes.

The handful of times they've done this- or at least, the few times Kurt’s been confident enough to -it's always been with one of them sitting at the edge of the bed or standing while the other kneels. And as hot as is it, Kurt has been too occupied to notice anything else except Blaine’s cock and his face when he comes and his-

“So...?” Blaine asks, attempting to get his attention.

“Oh, sorry,” Kurt says, leaning down from where he's straddling Blaine to give him a quick kiss.

He brings his hands up to Blaine’s shirt, unbuttoning downwards and kissing down his chest, smiling at the instinctive way Blaine’s stomach quivers and caves slightly as Kurt sucks kisses below his navel.

“Can I?” He asks, trying to swiftly undo Blaine’s belt after he nods silently.

Remembering how good it felt when Blaine had done it to him last time, he licks a slow stripe up Blaine’s cock, which earns him a low groan.

Kurt can feel his hands shaking a bit as he reaches up to push down on Blaine's hips, knowing how excessive he can get and he lowers his mouth down and gently sucks at the head.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers, trying to hold back from jerking upwards (and occasionally failing). Kurt sighs in retaliation, humming as he sinks down further. “God- missed this…”

And Kurt hums in agreement. It's been over a week since they've had time to do anything, and almost a month since they’ve gotten to draw things out this slow. He takes Blaine's hands from his face and places them in his hair, smiling at Blaine's hesitation and then immediate grip, he knows it not something he lets him do often.

Even though he’s on an unofficial mission, Kurt can't help but feel so content in the moment. He loves making his boyfriend feel good, and he hopes that being close to Blaine makes him feel as good as he makes him feel all the time.

Blaine is babbling nonsense above him, a slow string of gibberish and the occasional “yes” and “love you”.

It's been a few minutes and Kurt’s jaw is starting to ache, lack of practice he guesses, when Blaine starts pulling roughly at his hair.

“Getting a little excited there,” Kurt says, pulling his mouth off with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” Blaine says. “Sorry, I’m just- close,” he says, slightly out of breath.

Kurt just huffs out a small laugh and gives the head of Blaine’s cock a kitten lick before jerking him off, his own cock hardening from the slick feel from his spit sliding against Blaine’s skin.

He sits back on his haunches as he watches Blaine’s muscles tense, small broken uh uhs coming from his parted lips. Typically, Kurt would lean forward, open his mouth as he finishes, but he moves his eyes from Blaine’s scrunched face down to his rapidly rising and falling chest, and there’s a small leap in his chest as he eyes the slight creases in the sheet from Blaine’s clenched hands.

Kurt is so focused on theses motions- he's so close to Blaine he can feel his flexing toes against his calf- he doesn't even notice Blaine tugging at his belt.

“God,” Blaine whispers, tugging him down. “You’re so good at that. Let me-please-”

Kurt grins and doesn't stop him.

2. He Wants To Do It Again

The minute his dad and Carole shut the door, Kurt says nothing.

It’s not like he’s expecting Blaine to pounce on him or anything, it’s just that he’s usually the one...initiating things, and he wants to see if Blaine will step out of his gentleman sensibilities and do something.

Plus Kurt may have kissed him a little too aggressively as he walked him to his car yesterday in the mall parking lot and said that he couldn’t wait for their movie night the next evening- just to put him in the right mentality.

“So…” Blaine starts, looking from the menu options from the DVD player back to Kurt’s profile.

“Yeah?” Kurt asks innocently, his brain screaming rapid thoughts of pleasepleaseplease.

“Do you still want to watch the movie?” Blaine, reaches for the remote.

Kurt nearly screams.

“Sure!” He says, a little too chipper. “I’ll go make popcorn.”

Blaine stops his hand as he watches Kurt (mostly Kurt’s ass, he has to admit) walk towards the kitchen. “Uhhh-”

In the kitchen Kurt impatiently taps the counter as he glares at the microwave. Of course it’s not like he and Blaine have to have sex, but it’s what they usually do. It’s Saturday night, and they have an empty house, and Kurt’s wearing his new Balenciaga sweatshirt that’s so soft that if they just so happen to make out-

“Are we okay?” Blaine asks, his questioning voice slipping Kurt from his thought spiral. He’s leaning against the oven with his hands toying at a loose thread on his jeans.

Oh fuck it Kurt thinks, pausing the microwave so he doesn’t burn the house down, he knows they should talk.

“Of course?” Kurt says, his confidence fading so it sounds more like a question.

“I know we don’t have to, you know, but it’s just that…”

“Yeah,” Kurt starts. “I was just hoping that-”

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Blaine moans, lowering his head. “I just assumed-  we can watch the movie, god I’m so sorry.”

“Blaine!” Kurt says, taking his turn of stopping his boyfriend’s thought spiral. “I want to.”

Blaine lifts his head and tilts it slightly. “You do?”

Taking a step closer, Kurt laughs to himself as he takes Blaine’s hands. “I always want to. I wanted to see what would happen if I made you wait. Made you ask for it.”

He’s about to apologise until he’s interrupted by Blaine’s lips and soft, insistent tongue.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, his warm breath against his mouth and his hands curling around his waist. “I always want to.”

Kurt’s about to mentally check off his list until Blaine short-circuits his brain by tugging at his belt.

3. He Remains Flirty Post-Bang

Kurt wouldn’t call this “post-bang” (and he can’t stand how dumb that phrase sounds), but being cuddled up next to your boyfriend after frantically rutting against each other in the backseat of his car is definitely Kurt’s idea of flirty activity.

“I have a curfew, you know,” he says pointedly. His breath is so apparent in the stillness of the car that it sways the tip of Blaine’s shirt collar, the only article he’s wearing except his socks.

“I know,” Blaine says simply.

“You don’t care?” Kurt asks, making no effort to move.

“Nope,” Blaine states, popping the “P” sound and tightening his grip on Kurt’s waist.

“I love you,” he says with a laugh.

“I love you too,” he says without hesitation, and Kurt smiles coyly at how Blaine’s heartbeat relaxes as he answers.

He really does have a curfew, a curfew he’s dangerously close to breaking, but he forsakes the anxiety of the speeding Blaine will have to do to get him home on time in favor of these slow, private moments they get together (and the small check mark he makes on the list in his mind).

4. He’s Super Handsy All Day

Kurt was already apprehensive about this one, because he and Blaine aren't very...affectionate in public. Everyone knows it’s for safety reasons, but they would never reveal the nature of their intimacies in front of their friends, let alone people at school, so how is he supposed to get Blaine to be “handsy”?

He decides to use technology to his advantage for this one.

To Kurt: Are we still getting coffee after rehearsal?

To Blaine: Yes, but…

To Kurt: “But” what?

To Kurt: Do you not want to anymore? I thought you were done with campaign stuff.

To Blaine: I am! I just figured we could...you know.

To Kurt: Oh. If you’re saying what I think you’re implying, I thought we discussed being more upfront and unafraid of what we want. (And remember I love you.)

Kurt sighs and tosses his phone onto his bed at he gets dressed for school. He hates that he can't just imply something and Blaine will insinuate it. It’s the “I love you” that saves him, and makes him as unafraid as he promised he’d try to be.

To Blaine: Fine. (I love you too.)

To Blaine: I figured that we could take advantage of your empty house.Your parents are still at that convention right?

To Kurt: Yeah she is, what do you propose we do with my empty house? ;)

Kurt is gonna kill Blaine later for prying this out of him.

To Blaine: I propose that I fuck you later.

To Kurt: Oh

To Kurt: Kurt...

To Blaine: Is that a no?

To Blaine: Because I keep thinking about how we cancelled out date on Sunday and I haven’t seen you all weekend and I miss you so fucking much.

He sees Blaine repeatedly start and stop a reply, and decides to up the ante.

To Blaine: I miss kissing you, and hearing you moan underneath me.

To Blaine: I miss your ass…

To Kurt: KURT

To Blaine: What? I’m being upfront.

To Kurt: I hate you.

To Blaine: I’ll see you at school ;)

Blaine won’t stop staring at his mouth.

He can’t blame him per say, this morning he was greeted with a flushed smile and a whispering of “I can’t wait for our date later”, which is basically the equivalent of Blaine grabbing his ass in the middle of the corridor.

Kurt loves this part about being intimate with Blaine, all the little queues that they can send each other that nobody else would know. Like when Blaine presses his thigh into his underneath the table at lunch or when he squeezes his hand twice before letting him walk into fourth period.

They’re not “handsy” people, but it’s enough to show Kurt what’s on his boyfriend’s mind.

To Blaine: Are we still on for “coffee” after rehearsal? He texts Blaine after spending all of their shared French classes sucking on the end of his pen.

To Kurt: You’re the worst. And yes.

5. He Tells You It Was Awesome

Kurt knows that he definitely can’t get Blaine to say “awesome” in reference to their sex life, but Blaine is pretty vocal (in comparison to Kurt he’s practically writing a dissertation in the midst of what they do) so it can’t be too hard.

Oh, but it’s hard. So very, very hard. As is Blaine, long and thick against him as he’s one more groan away from fucking Kurt into the mattress with all their clothes still on.

“Oh fuck,” Kurt groans, dropping his head into the crook of Blaine’s neck.

“I love you- so much,” Blaine says, the sound of Kurt’s hitched breath going straight down his spine to his groin.

“Uh huh,” Kurt breathes out, not saying it back but knowing he doesn’t need to. He’s too focused on Blaine’s nails gently scraping down his back just right and the rhythmic friction in his underwear that he’s too distracted to take off.

Kurt can feel his steady breaths slipping into a high whine, and he untangles his arms from around Blaine’s neck to desperately grabbing his ass, kneading the smooth muscle over his briefs.

Blaine gasps out a rough “Oh Kurt,” and ruts himself against him with a more determined vigor, and it’s still not enough for Kurt.

Remembering a (long, awkward, stumbling) conversation they’d had a few weeks ago, Kurt leans his open mouth right up to Blaine’s ear and whispers, “You’re so good to me.”

Blaine keens at the praise and tugs at the nape of Kurt’s neck to pull him in for an uncoordinated, sloppy kiss, and Kurt releases him to say “More, please, more.”

And that’s exactly what he gets. Blaine pushes Kurt back onto the bed and sets his weight on top of him, and Kurt’s hips buck up at the sensation of Blaine’s cock right against his. His eyes roll back, and knowing he’s so close, he gives the most confident slap to Blaine’s left cheek and grips his ass tighter when he hears Blaine loud gasp.

“Do you like that?” Kurt asks, hoping he sounds more sexy and less like a porn script.

“Yes yes yes,” Blaine replies instantly, coming into his underwear and tipping Kurt over the edge as he feels the wet stain in Blaine’s briefs grow against his.

“I love you,” Kurt whispers,once they’ve been quiet for a while and his underwear is getting uncomfortable. “I hope that wasn’t...too much.”

“No- don’t apologize,” Blaine says, a little too loud for the stillness of the thick air. “That was..wow.”

Kurt just laughs and presses a kiss to the crown of Blaine’s head.

6. It Was Great For You

Kurt wakes up on one of the rare nights he gets to spend at Blaine’s and heads downstairs to make himself some heated milk and checks the kitchen for ingredients- he promised Blaine they’d make lavender honey cupcakes tomorrow.

As he waits for the saucepan to heat up, he turns and looks into the living room where they spent most of their evening, and a flush rushes over his cheeks as he looks of the remnants of their date.

The couch cushions are strewn across the floor, and there’s an empty lube packet on the coffee table from where Blaine was insisting they stop their Rodgers and Hammerstein marathon for something much more favorable.

Kurt absentmindedly runs his fingertips over the rim of his empty mug as he thinks about the hungry way Blaine pulled at his bottom lip and dragged him upstairs by the belt loops as the credits of Oklahoma! rolled on the television. With a small smile he opens the door to Blaine’s room and tries to be as quiet as possible as he crawls back under the covers.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks sleepily, his bed-flattened hair adjusting as his head to rest on Kurt’s stomach.

“Hey,” he sighs as he toys with his hair. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

“S’okay,” Blaine says, shifting his head into Kurt’s hands and sounding slightly more awake. “Do you need help?”

Kurt just chuckles and grins at the way Blaine’s head slightly bounces as his stomach muscles contract. “Help falling asleep? I think I can handle it.”

Blaine twists to face him and wraps his hand around his waist and begins trailing his fingers along his side.

“Bet I could help,” he says with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

Yeah, Blaine’s definitely awake now.

“I-If you want,” Kurt says, closing his eyes as Blaine starts gently sliding the heel of his hand over the bulge forming in his briefs.

“I feel bad that I didn’t...earlier.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, surprised. After Blaine took him upstairs and practically begged him to fuck him- and after Kurt quickly agreed, Blaine lasted all of five minutes and promised to blow him before he promptly fell asleep. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Blaine insists, digging into his nightstand drawer. “Fuck,” he whispers and Kurt turns his head to see Blaine’s hand nearly dripping with lube.

Kurt laughs at his eagerness and begins tugging at Blaine’s pajama waistband.

“No- no, this is about you,” Blaine insists, quickly motioning for Kurt to pull down his pants and wrapping his lube coated hand around his cock.

“Shit Blaine,” Kurt moans, the sudden pressure and the cold lube going straight to his cock.

“Sorry,” Blaine giggles, his hand moving steadily along Kurt’s shaft. “I could stop if you want,” he teases, loosening his grip.

“Don’t you dare,” Kurt lets out between his teeth. “Would you- tighter?”

“As you wish,” Blaine says with a smile, quickly complying and tightening his hand and gently tracing his thumb over the head.

“Oh Blaine,” Kurt whispers and Blaine swings his leg over Kurt’s to straddle him and leans down to kiss his neck. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Blaine asks, not expecting an answer.

“Fuck- ‘m close.”

“Already?” Blaine teases, licking a thin line up his neck and blowing on it.

Kurt laughs, trying to buck his hips into Blaine’s groin to silence him but to no avail. “Blaine please-”

“As you wish,” Blaine says with a sigh, tightening his grip and biting down lightly on Kurt’s jaw, his breath equally as labored.

Kurt groans as he leans his head back, basking in the shaking of his thighs and the pulling of his skin as Blaine releases his grip on him and watches him fall apart in shallow, heavy breaths.

As he comes down, Kurt lazily strips off his come-soaked- and probably stained, he cringes- t-shirt and places kisses all over Blaine’s face and neck, mumbling praises and thank yous.

“No,” Blaine yawns when Kurt tries to pull at his pants to grip his hip bones. “This was about you.”

Kurt doesn’t even think about the list until after Blaine falls asleep.

7. He’s learning new tricks

“I’m so sorry,” Blaine stresses again.

“It’s fine,” Kurt says, poking his toes into Blaine’s side from where they’re resting in his lap. “But if I say my knee still hurts, can I get an apology foot rub?”

Blaine offers a smile in response and begins working his thumbs in the arch of Kurt’s foot. “I just really wanted to-”

“Cause fatal injury?”

“Shake things up!” Blaine says, feigning offense. “I read it in Cosmopolitan.”

‘It’ turned out to be a list of “sexy tips to excite your man” and Blaine attempting to drench himself in baby oil and perform a strip tease was cut short when Kurt slipped and fell on the puddle of grease, cutting his boyfriend’s performance short.

“You know those magazines are heteronormative recyclables, right?” Kurt asks, turning to face the television. “Plus we don’t need any shaking up.”

“I guess,” Blaine shrugs. “I just wanted to show you that- I don’t know- that I still care about you, us, so much.”

“Blaine,” Kurt says with a sigh, moving over to sit down in Blaine’s lap. “Believe me I know you still care. And this is just as good for me as this is for you.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Blaine asks, averting his eyes.

“Kiss me and I’ll prove it to you,” Kurt whispers, grinning as Blaine leans in without hesitation.

•••

He and Rachel are flipping through a NYADA course catalog when she brings it back up.

“Sooo,” she starts, dog-earing the page. “Did you ever put that article I gave you to the test?”

Kurt can feel his cheeks reddening as he tries to give a smooth response. “Oh please. I don’t need some cheap list to know that Blaine wants me.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugs, picking up her highlighter again.

“...Although it certainly helped,” Kurt tries to say as casually as possible.

Rachel gasps and shuts the book, focusing her attention on Kurt. “Tell me everything.”