Glee fic
There's a writing challenge on tumblr called Klaine Advent where a single word prompt is posted each day leading up to Christmas. Today's word was jigsaw and I couldn't let it pass without making a reference to Teenage Dream.
(Remember when I had the ability to string more than two words together and have them make sense?)
"I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece."
Blaine's only in the next room but his voice is slow to reach Kurt's ears, singing a faint and muffled tune that is so familiar that he's not sure if he actually heard the lyrics or his mind subconsciously translated the soft sounds of something unintelligible.
It's not unusual to hear snippets of songs ringing out through their apartment at all hours of the day or night: Blaine serenading the toaster with a soft, sleepy rasp as he makes breakfast, Kurt humming under his breath as he peruses the latest issue of Vogue, the two of them trying and failing to sing a four-part harmony with a bass note that's too low and long for either of them to hit without having an aneurysm.
Kurt cocks his head to one side, listens for more, follows the sound of silence.
Blaine's sprawled out on the floor and Kurt can't help but lament the missed opportunity for the irony of singing about being complete while half of Blaine is buried under the couch in all its hideous green velour cushioned glory. They were a wedding gift and they've just about reached the eight month mark of the year long can't-throw-away-anything-Aunt-Elsa-gave-us clause Blaine insisted upon on their wedding night as they collapsed to the floor of their apartment, laden down with presents and the knowledge that they had mere hours to pack a suitcase (or four) for their honeymoon.
"Not that I have a problem with seeing your ass first thing when I walk into a room but I thought we agreed you'd tone down your obsession with couches. No more climbing or singing, remember?"
Blaine yelps, startled, and wriggles out from under the couch. "I dropped my keys," he says, holding them up with a jingle. "I was putting on a new keyring and they tried to make a daring escape."
"A daring escape to under the couch?"
"In a world where they live in the depths of my pocket and only escape when I need to unlock a door, the couch is an exciting change of scenery."
"I'm sure." Kurt holds out a hand to help Blaine off the floor but his fingers close around something metal instead. "What is this?"
"There were only two keyrings left and I couldn't leave the last one all alone so I got you one as well. It's a jigsaw puzzle piece, see? It fits with mine."
Kurt grins. They're complete.
(Remember when I had the ability to string more than two words together and have them make sense?)
"I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece."
Blaine's only in the next room but his voice is slow to reach Kurt's ears, singing a faint and muffled tune that is so familiar that he's not sure if he actually heard the lyrics or his mind subconsciously translated the soft sounds of something unintelligible.
It's not unusual to hear snippets of songs ringing out through their apartment at all hours of the day or night: Blaine serenading the toaster with a soft, sleepy rasp as he makes breakfast, Kurt humming under his breath as he peruses the latest issue of Vogue, the two of them trying and failing to sing a four-part harmony with a bass note that's too low and long for either of them to hit without having an aneurysm.
Kurt cocks his head to one side, listens for more, follows the sound of silence.
Blaine's sprawled out on the floor and Kurt can't help but lament the missed opportunity for the irony of singing about being complete while half of Blaine is buried under the couch in all its hideous green velour cushioned glory. They were a wedding gift and they've just about reached the eight month mark of the year long can't-throw-away-anything-Aunt-Elsa-gave-us clause Blaine insisted upon on their wedding night as they collapsed to the floor of their apartment, laden down with presents and the knowledge that they had mere hours to pack a suitcase (or four) for their honeymoon.
"Not that I have a problem with seeing your ass first thing when I walk into a room but I thought we agreed you'd tone down your obsession with couches. No more climbing or singing, remember?"
Blaine yelps, startled, and wriggles out from under the couch. "I dropped my keys," he says, holding them up with a jingle. "I was putting on a new keyring and they tried to make a daring escape."
"A daring escape to under the couch?"
"In a world where they live in the depths of my pocket and only escape when I need to unlock a door, the couch is an exciting change of scenery."
"I'm sure." Kurt holds out a hand to help Blaine off the floor but his fingers close around something metal instead. "What is this?"
"There were only two keyrings left and I couldn't leave the last one all alone so I got you one as well. It's a jigsaw puzzle piece, see? It fits with mine."
Kurt grins. They're complete.