Fic: badminton, deadly swans, and the bat man (Glee, Kurt/Blaine, PG)
Some random prompts I wrote over at Tumblr under the cut. Double-shot drabble length.
Anon prompt: Kurt/Blaine, Badminton
PG-rated fun, short-shorts and all.
*
By the end of it, Kurt knows his face is flushed and his sweatband has slipped down enough to force his eyebrows into a severe line (it’s not like he’s doing that on purpose or anything).
Blaine’s breathing hard, his hands on his hips and racket pointed down to the ground in his grasp, his head tilted in confusion. “Kurt, are you okay?”
With every breath, Blaine’s ridiculously short shorts hitch up a bit more, exposing more skin. His thighs are extraordinarily fetching today and Kurt can’t help think of other times, times when he’s had the opportunity to touch…and right, they need to start the next game.
“I’m fine. It’s best two out of three, I gave you that one.” He pushes his sweatband back up, tucking some wayward strands underneath as he readjusts it. It’s Blaine’s serve but he’s going to have to fake his composure and stop looking at Blaine’s legs in order to gain some control. “I’m going to win.
“Since winner gets to pick which reality show marathon we’re watching this weekend, I don’t think so.” Blaine grins wide and gets into the perfect stance to send his deadly serve. “They’re rerunning the best of Tabatha Takes Over this Saturday.”
There’s a Project Runway marathon of S2 scheduled at the same time. Kurt can’t lose this. As long as he keeps his eyes north of the equator, he can do this. He has to do this. If only for Santino’s Tim Gunn impression.
But as the shuttlecock (and really who thought that name up?) flies over the net, Blaine’s shirt rides up and there’s a glimpse of Blaine’s stomach and all Kurt hits with his racket is air. Point to his boyfriend.
Well. He can think of worse things than getting to cuddle up with his boyfriend criticizing the tacky outfits of many an over-dyed hair stylist.
“First point to me!” Blaine says, hips shimmying as he moves back to the middle of the court.
And, in a way, point to Kurt. Major, wearing indecently distractingly shorts point to Kurt. Sure, this game might be Blaine’s to win but with the things Kurt wants to do with Blaine when he loses? He’s pretty sure in the end, they’ll both win.
*
Anon prompt: Feeding the ducks
“Romantic anniversary getaway my bruised ass,” Blaine grumbles against the pillow as Kurt settles a fresh icepack on his extraordinarily (and not in the fun way) sore ass.
Kurt settles next to him on the bed, a hand resting over Blaine’s head, pushing back a few curls loosened from the gel. “I didn’t realize swans were so-”
“Evil? Demonic? Now we know.”
“You were so happy feeding the ducks before that swan went after you.” Kurt’s trying for a soothing tone but it’s ruined by the bubble of laughter he’s failing to hide.
“Well, ducks don’t attack people.”
“Oh, honey.” Kurt’s shaking with laughter, causing Blaine to shift on the bed until Kurt settles. “Would picking out what we watch tonight help you recover from your life threatening butt bruise?”
Blaine pouts, which is something he can do without Kurt noticing as he can’t quite see his face, obscured by the pillow and comforter. Kurt strokes his thumb idly against Blaine’s elbow, waiting for Blaine’s answer. “It would help if you would stop calling it a butt bruise.”
“War wound?” The smile in Kurt’s voice is evident but the gentle kiss to the spot below Blaine’s jaw is an acceptable apology. Kurt whispers, “Just think, if you weren’t there to distract that obviously possessed bird, it might have gone after me.”
“So there’s a reason you married me.”
“Yes, Blaine. In case of vicious swan, I decided it would be best to marry you.”
*
thatironstring prompted: Kurt/Blaine, Batman, a deadly bee weapon.
Being held by Batman isn’t as thrilling as it sounds, especially when you’re dangling over a swarm of bees fighting over the body of a mad scientist. Fortunately it’s not for too long as Batman’s grappling hook is retractable and they’re lifted high above the bees to the top of the building.
(Originally, Blaine had thought visiting Kurt during his internship at Wayne Industries was going to be a little boring since Kurt didn’t have much time to join Blaine on his sightseeing tour of Gotham. Funny how things change when a super-villain attempts to take over the world via a deadly bee weapon.)
Kurt’s arms are much nicer and Blaine happily collapses into them, missing out on Batman throwing a canister of super-strength anti-bee repellant down into the bee swarm.
“Thank you, Batman,” Kurt says, and Blaine has to agree, since he didn’t want to be made into another bee-controlled zombie like several Gotham citizens before Batman showed up.
Batman glowers, or at least Blaine thinks he does. He is sort of standing in the shadows.
“You’re Sugar’s friends.”
It’s not a question but the polite thing to do is nod that they are so they do exactly that.
Batman looks out into the distance, mouth tight. “Stay out of trouble.”
And with that, Batman jumps off of the building, cape a blue-black whirl in the wind.
Blaine nudges Kurt’s side. “See? I told you. Sugar’s dad isn’t in the mafia.”
Anon prompt: Kurt/Blaine, Badminton
PG-rated fun, short-shorts and all.
*
By the end of it, Kurt knows his face is flushed and his sweatband has slipped down enough to force his eyebrows into a severe line (it’s not like he’s doing that on purpose or anything).
Blaine’s breathing hard, his hands on his hips and racket pointed down to the ground in his grasp, his head tilted in confusion. “Kurt, are you okay?”
With every breath, Blaine’s ridiculously short shorts hitch up a bit more, exposing more skin. His thighs are extraordinarily fetching today and Kurt can’t help think of other times, times when he’s had the opportunity to touch…and right, they need to start the next game.
“I’m fine. It’s best two out of three, I gave you that one.” He pushes his sweatband back up, tucking some wayward strands underneath as he readjusts it. It’s Blaine’s serve but he’s going to have to fake his composure and stop looking at Blaine’s legs in order to gain some control. “I’m going to win.
“Since winner gets to pick which reality show marathon we’re watching this weekend, I don’t think so.” Blaine grins wide and gets into the perfect stance to send his deadly serve. “They’re rerunning the best of Tabatha Takes Over this Saturday.”
There’s a Project Runway marathon of S2 scheduled at the same time. Kurt can’t lose this. As long as he keeps his eyes north of the equator, he can do this. He has to do this. If only for Santino’s Tim Gunn impression.
But as the shuttlecock (and really who thought that name up?) flies over the net, Blaine’s shirt rides up and there’s a glimpse of Blaine’s stomach and all Kurt hits with his racket is air. Point to his boyfriend.
Well. He can think of worse things than getting to cuddle up with his boyfriend criticizing the tacky outfits of many an over-dyed hair stylist.
“First point to me!” Blaine says, hips shimmying as he moves back to the middle of the court.
And, in a way, point to Kurt. Major, wearing indecently distractingly shorts point to Kurt. Sure, this game might be Blaine’s to win but with the things Kurt wants to do with Blaine when he loses? He’s pretty sure in the end, they’ll both win.
*
Anon prompt: Feeding the ducks
“Romantic anniversary getaway my bruised ass,” Blaine grumbles against the pillow as Kurt settles a fresh icepack on his extraordinarily (and not in the fun way) sore ass.
Kurt settles next to him on the bed, a hand resting over Blaine’s head, pushing back a few curls loosened from the gel. “I didn’t realize swans were so-”
“Evil? Demonic? Now we know.”
“You were so happy feeding the ducks before that swan went after you.” Kurt’s trying for a soothing tone but it’s ruined by the bubble of laughter he’s failing to hide.
“Well, ducks don’t attack people.”
“Oh, honey.” Kurt’s shaking with laughter, causing Blaine to shift on the bed until Kurt settles. “Would picking out what we watch tonight help you recover from your life threatening butt bruise?”
Blaine pouts, which is something he can do without Kurt noticing as he can’t quite see his face, obscured by the pillow and comforter. Kurt strokes his thumb idly against Blaine’s elbow, waiting for Blaine’s answer. “It would help if you would stop calling it a butt bruise.”
“War wound?” The smile in Kurt’s voice is evident but the gentle kiss to the spot below Blaine’s jaw is an acceptable apology. Kurt whispers, “Just think, if you weren’t there to distract that obviously possessed bird, it might have gone after me.”
“So there’s a reason you married me.”
“Yes, Blaine. In case of vicious swan, I decided it would be best to marry you.”
*
thatironstring prompted: Kurt/Blaine, Batman, a deadly bee weapon.
Being held by Batman isn’t as thrilling as it sounds, especially when you’re dangling over a swarm of bees fighting over the body of a mad scientist. Fortunately it’s not for too long as Batman’s grappling hook is retractable and they’re lifted high above the bees to the top of the building.
(Originally, Blaine had thought visiting Kurt during his internship at Wayne Industries was going to be a little boring since Kurt didn’t have much time to join Blaine on his sightseeing tour of Gotham. Funny how things change when a super-villain attempts to take over the world via a deadly bee weapon.)
Kurt’s arms are much nicer and Blaine happily collapses into them, missing out on Batman throwing a canister of super-strength anti-bee repellant down into the bee swarm.
“Thank you, Batman,” Kurt says, and Blaine has to agree, since he didn’t want to be made into another bee-controlled zombie like several Gotham citizens before Batman showed up.
Batman glowers, or at least Blaine thinks he does. He is sort of standing in the shadows.
“You’re Sugar’s friends.”
It’s not a question but the polite thing to do is nod that they are so they do exactly that.
Batman looks out into the distance, mouth tight. “Stay out of trouble.”
And with that, Batman jumps off of the building, cape a blue-black whirl in the wind.
Blaine nudges Kurt’s side. “See? I told you. Sugar’s dad isn’t in the mafia.”