Kurt wakes up at nine o’clock on Saturday morning to a loud crash, which, his bleary mind tells him, came from somewhere around the kitchen. He very nearly stays in bed, writing off the noise to the dogs (who always end up running around the house in the early morning, even though Blaine swears he locks the door to their room). But then Kurt scoots over to Blaine’s side of the bed, hoping to cuddle a little before he’s awake enough to know better. However, where he would usually find his boyfriend’s warm body, there’s nothing but cool blankets and empty sheets
( ... )
Part of the beauty of New York is its litany of tiny markets and specialty shops, all of which happen to be closed at 10am on a Saturday. They end up going to 7-11 anyway because of this, and while Kurt is morally opposed to the entire corporation, it’s the only place in town to get Icees (Kurt had been sure that bad slushy accidents in high school would have turned him off of the icy treats for life, but he know sees drinking them as a 'fuck you' to anyone who tossed one his way when he was younger). Of course, it’s just Kurt’s luck that the goddamn Icee machine is broken when they get there. Blaine consoles him for a moment and then he’s grabbing onto his arm and leading him across the store. They’re walking down the snack food aisle, Blaine’s arm slung carelessly around Kurt’s waist, when Blaine brushes his fingers over Kurt's hip, skirts them across his stomach (just under the thin henley he’s wearing under an unbuttoned coat) and presses down on the soft skin next to Kurt's prominent right hipbone. Kurt stops walking and lets
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