Fic: Thunder Worship [1/1]
Media: Fic
Title: Thunder Worship
Rating: PG
Spoilers: blink-and-you'll-miss-it 2.11 reference
Warnings: one
Word Count: 1844
Summary: Blaine has never been a fan of thunder.
Blaine dozes against his headboard, lulled by storm-heavy air and too much Calculus. Humidity and apathy has loosened Blaine’s gel so his hair curls softly over his forehead and around his ears. His plain white tee shirt (tight and a little thin from wear and Kurt nearly passed out when he revealed it in shucking off his crisp uniform shirt) is hiked up a little bit from how he’s slumped against his headboard. The Calculus book he was studying from is open in his lap, pages of notes strewn off to his right, edges curling against the wall. Kurt looks up from some Russian revolution to watch him. Blaine could be Russian royalty, he thinks. There’s nobility to him… Or perhaps Kurt is thinking too fondly on Ariel’s Prince Eric. Either way, he gives a little shake of his head, smiling, and turns back to his history work.
They have been studying together for just a few hours now. Midterms are upon them, bringing the lure of Spring Break on their heels. Blaine has been jumpier than usual lately - all wound-up over the tests, Kurt assumes. This, slumped more-than-half-asleep on his bed, is the most at ease he has seen the older boy all week. Kurt flicks a page over in his text book, one cheek nearly going numb by support of his fist.
It’s warm for early March - the lamb has pranced in sooner than expected. Blaine had the window open when Kurt arrived and now the heady atmosphere of outside is seeping in. It’s soporous but Kurt has always liked history so he’s able to resist the urge of going Blaine’s way. Which is certainly a feat anyway, because Blaine is sort of pressed to the one side and the way he’s slumped would make it perfect for Kurt to just curl up next to him, drop his head on Blaine’s shoulder and shift himself around him.
Lack of cuddling aside, this is a perfect evening for Kurt. It’s easy-going, comfortable and private. For someone so hell-bent on being seen and heard, Kurt is surprisingly close-lipped about his relationship (except, of course, when behind closed doors, when Blaine’s lips are anything but closed). Blaine gives shallow affections easily in public - shoulder grips, holding hands, hair ruffles, and all those simple touches. But it’s something special when it’s just the two of them. Something different yet exactly the same. It’s just for the two of them.
A fertile sort of scent drifts in and the rumble of the promised thunderstorm starts. It’s distant, like the slow-build of a lion’s roar and Kurt takes in a deep breath, taking in the fresh-saturated air. Behind him, Blaine shifts on the comforter. Another call in the sky sounds, closer and more substantial. More movement from Blaine and this time a soft noise of discontent as well. Kurt turns over the back of his chair to see. The soft, relaxed lines of the sleeping boys face have changed, bunching up slightly, his brow wrinkling. Kurt mimics the frown.
The tell-tale patter of rain starts in the outside world and Blaine gives one last restless stretch before sitting up a little, hitching his shoulders together and then apart to get rid of the kinks that had apparently formed during sleep.
“Sleepy-head,” Kurt intones fondly, drawing Blaine’s eyes to him. A light laugh breaks through as Blaine sends him a sweet, sleep-laden smile.
“Can’t believe I fell asleep,” he hums out, scuffing a hand up through his curls. He exhales and looks over to the window. Rain beads on the sill, tempo increasing as the storm grows thicker. “Raining,” he comments, obviously not entirely awake yet. With a yawn, Blaine gets up and shuffles over, hefting the window closed. Kurt watches the play of muscles over his back, head cocking to the side slightly in appreciation. Blaine flicks the latch to secure the window before turning and leaning, sending off a smile to Kurt. “Were you a good student while I was konked out?”
Kurt smirks, rolling his eyes before nodding. “Yes. I don’t slack off like some people.”
It’s a joke, and Blaine smiles, but Kurt can see the tension tighten over his shoulders. He looks away, glancing to the clock and makes an unhappy noise. “Whoa! It’s been longer than I thought. Need to get back to work…” He moved back to his bed and Kurt meets him there. Blaine sends him a questioning look but Kurt just scoops up the textbook and loose-leaf, transferring the study materials to the desk, over his own work. “Kurt…” Blaine trails off, lips in a straight line and his tone reluctant. Distant thunder sounds out and he gives a minute flinch.
“Now I need a break,” Kurt says with a shrug. “And I don’t think you had enough of one.” He sits on the edge of the bed, tugging on Blaine’s hand. “Lay with me,” he requests, pouting adorably.
Blaine gives a genuine laugh that barely catches any volume before nodding. “All right, all right,” he murmurs.
They arrange themselves comfortably, facing each other on their sides, legs curled up a little and holding hands between them. Blaine has his free hand turned under his head and Kurt’s is toying with the soft semi-circle Blaine’s collar. As his fingertips trail over stretched ribbing, another bolt of thunder falls so hard Kurt can feel it in his chest. He gives a little jerk from the surprise. Blaine does the same, but it comes with a shallow gasp and the jerk is full-body; he curls in on himself, feet brushing against Kurt’s shins in the move.
Kurt’s fingertips drift up the warm column of Blaine’s neck. “Are you afraid of thunder?” he asks.
Blaine laughs but it stutters to a quick stop when Kurt’s fingertips lightly explore his lower lip next. “Not really,” he speaks against the digit, lips barely moving apart from its presence. “Just… Not a fan.”
Kurt nods his understanding before sliding a little closer even, so his knees are pressed against Blaine’s and his hand drops to the mattress beneath them. “Why not?” he asks.
Blaine shrugs in response but he’s not really thinking about the question. He’s thinking about the pad of Kurt’s finger and how it’s tracing under the hem of his tee-shirt, around the knob of hipbone there. His eyes refocus on Kurt’s and he realizes that the younger boy is studying him rather seriously. “What?” he asks, voice muted and holding nothing but simple curiosity.
Kurt shakes his head a little and turns onto his back. Blaine immediately moves in, eager to regain their proximity. Puzzling himself to Kurt’s side, he noses his face into his neck. When Kurt speaks a moment later, Blaine can feel it. He can feel the sound travelling through Kurt’s throat and thrumming against his cheek and jaw. “I always liked thunder,” he’s saying. His hand finds its way between Blaine’s shoulder blades before sliding up, weaving fingers through the curls. Blaine huffs out an easy sound of appreciation, canting his head into the touch. “It was something bigger than me that I could believe in, without it having to be some…god or religion.”
Blaine sits up a little at that, putting his weight into his hands on either side of Kurt. “Thunder worship?” he asks, not even a hint of teasing in his voice.
Kurt purses his lips but nods and murmurs something like “Something like that.”
“That why I don’t like it all that much.” Kurt cocks his head to the side, not understanding, so Blaine goes on. “Thunder, I mean. Because it’s something bigger. Sort of…unnerving, I guess.”
Kurt almost-smirks, almost-makes a comment about just about everything being bigger than Blaine. But he doesn’t because - Blaine wouldn’t care, but - they have a sweet, quiet little atmosphere here and he doesn’t want to break that with his snark, however perfect the comment might be. Instead, he reaches a hand to cup Blaine’s cheek and hefts himself up a little so they can meet lips.
Blaine is pushing back, slanting Kurt’s spine against the mattress and then shifting himself, laying his body more fully over Kurt’s. His got his lips trailing down the younger boy’s neck when another crack of thunder rings out. Blaine doesn’t notice for once, doesn’t flinch. Kurt, however, does. He fits his hands on either side of Blaine’s face and urges him up and away. Blaine obliges but is not the least bit happy about it. His expression conveys that much and Kurt only rolls his eyes at it. “Wait, just… C’mon,” he says, as if it’s obvious where they’re going…as if it’s obvious that they’re even going somewhere. But his legs are slung over the edge of the bed and he’s tugging on his shoes. Blaine, once more, can only comply.
And then he’s being led through the corridors of Dalton by hand. And he would be put-out over it (because if he wasn’t going to be making out with his boyfriend, then he really did have a lot of studying to do for Calculus yet, thank you very much) except every so often Kurt looks back at him to make sure he’s keeping up and the look on his face… He’s all red-cheeked and smiling and he’s more excited than when the opening strains of that wicked awesome “Thriller/Heads Will Roll” mash-up played over the McKinley football field. So Blaine follows Kurt and soon finds his enthusiasm catching a little, even though he has no idea what this is about or where they’re going and “I know a short-cut,” is echoing through his ears from months ago, when he ran down this hallway, holding the same hand of this same boy. Except it had all been so very different then.
Soon enough, Kurt is pushing through one of the side exits and they’re out in the middle of the courtyard. The rain is pounding down now but it’s warm and musky and smells like what relaxation feels like. Kurt has let go of his hand and taken several steps away, face tipped up to the storm. A bolt of thunder hits the clouds and Blaine flinches but Kurt laughs, open and light and musical. His perfect hair is plastered against his forehead and temple and mud is squelching around the hem of his Dalton pants but he’s just laughing like it’s his job.
Blaine moves out to meet him, rain quickly making his hair heavy and dripping over his face. It’s grey in the sky but everything seems sort of green and that makes Blaine remember some old Nickel Creek song that his mother used to sing under her breath all the time. He hums a bar of the chorus when he catches Kurt, pressing their foreheads together, curls mingling with soggy bangs. His hands are on Kurt’s waist and Kurt’s are cupping his elbows and their kissing, kissing.
Thunder rumbles across the sky and this time neither of the boys notices. The rain just continues falling and they just continue kissing.
Title: Thunder Worship
Rating: PG
Spoilers: blink-and-you'll-miss-it 2.11 reference
Warnings: one
Word Count: 1844
Summary: Blaine has never been a fan of thunder.
Blaine dozes against his headboard, lulled by storm-heavy air and too much Calculus. Humidity and apathy has loosened Blaine’s gel so his hair curls softly over his forehead and around his ears. His plain white tee shirt (tight and a little thin from wear and Kurt nearly passed out when he revealed it in shucking off his crisp uniform shirt) is hiked up a little bit from how he’s slumped against his headboard. The Calculus book he was studying from is open in his lap, pages of notes strewn off to his right, edges curling against the wall. Kurt looks up from some Russian revolution to watch him. Blaine could be Russian royalty, he thinks. There’s nobility to him… Or perhaps Kurt is thinking too fondly on Ariel’s Prince Eric. Either way, he gives a little shake of his head, smiling, and turns back to his history work.
They have been studying together for just a few hours now. Midterms are upon them, bringing the lure of Spring Break on their heels. Blaine has been jumpier than usual lately - all wound-up over the tests, Kurt assumes. This, slumped more-than-half-asleep on his bed, is the most at ease he has seen the older boy all week. Kurt flicks a page over in his text book, one cheek nearly going numb by support of his fist.
It’s warm for early March - the lamb has pranced in sooner than expected. Blaine had the window open when Kurt arrived and now the heady atmosphere of outside is seeping in. It’s soporous but Kurt has always liked history so he’s able to resist the urge of going Blaine’s way. Which is certainly a feat anyway, because Blaine is sort of pressed to the one side and the way he’s slumped would make it perfect for Kurt to just curl up next to him, drop his head on Blaine’s shoulder and shift himself around him.
Lack of cuddling aside, this is a perfect evening for Kurt. It’s easy-going, comfortable and private. For someone so hell-bent on being seen and heard, Kurt is surprisingly close-lipped about his relationship (except, of course, when behind closed doors, when Blaine’s lips are anything but closed). Blaine gives shallow affections easily in public - shoulder grips, holding hands, hair ruffles, and all those simple touches. But it’s something special when it’s just the two of them. Something different yet exactly the same. It’s just for the two of them.
A fertile sort of scent drifts in and the rumble of the promised thunderstorm starts. It’s distant, like the slow-build of a lion’s roar and Kurt takes in a deep breath, taking in the fresh-saturated air. Behind him, Blaine shifts on the comforter. Another call in the sky sounds, closer and more substantial. More movement from Blaine and this time a soft noise of discontent as well. Kurt turns over the back of his chair to see. The soft, relaxed lines of the sleeping boys face have changed, bunching up slightly, his brow wrinkling. Kurt mimics the frown.
The tell-tale patter of rain starts in the outside world and Blaine gives one last restless stretch before sitting up a little, hitching his shoulders together and then apart to get rid of the kinks that had apparently formed during sleep.
“Sleepy-head,” Kurt intones fondly, drawing Blaine’s eyes to him. A light laugh breaks through as Blaine sends him a sweet, sleep-laden smile.
“Can’t believe I fell asleep,” he hums out, scuffing a hand up through his curls. He exhales and looks over to the window. Rain beads on the sill, tempo increasing as the storm grows thicker. “Raining,” he comments, obviously not entirely awake yet. With a yawn, Blaine gets up and shuffles over, hefting the window closed. Kurt watches the play of muscles over his back, head cocking to the side slightly in appreciation. Blaine flicks the latch to secure the window before turning and leaning, sending off a smile to Kurt. “Were you a good student while I was konked out?”
Kurt smirks, rolling his eyes before nodding. “Yes. I don’t slack off like some people.”
It’s a joke, and Blaine smiles, but Kurt can see the tension tighten over his shoulders. He looks away, glancing to the clock and makes an unhappy noise. “Whoa! It’s been longer than I thought. Need to get back to work…” He moved back to his bed and Kurt meets him there. Blaine sends him a questioning look but Kurt just scoops up the textbook and loose-leaf, transferring the study materials to the desk, over his own work. “Kurt…” Blaine trails off, lips in a straight line and his tone reluctant. Distant thunder sounds out and he gives a minute flinch.
“Now I need a break,” Kurt says with a shrug. “And I don’t think you had enough of one.” He sits on the edge of the bed, tugging on Blaine’s hand. “Lay with me,” he requests, pouting adorably.
Blaine gives a genuine laugh that barely catches any volume before nodding. “All right, all right,” he murmurs.
They arrange themselves comfortably, facing each other on their sides, legs curled up a little and holding hands between them. Blaine has his free hand turned under his head and Kurt’s is toying with the soft semi-circle Blaine’s collar. As his fingertips trail over stretched ribbing, another bolt of thunder falls so hard Kurt can feel it in his chest. He gives a little jerk from the surprise. Blaine does the same, but it comes with a shallow gasp and the jerk is full-body; he curls in on himself, feet brushing against Kurt’s shins in the move.
Kurt’s fingertips drift up the warm column of Blaine’s neck. “Are you afraid of thunder?” he asks.
Blaine laughs but it stutters to a quick stop when Kurt’s fingertips lightly explore his lower lip next. “Not really,” he speaks against the digit, lips barely moving apart from its presence. “Just… Not a fan.”
Kurt nods his understanding before sliding a little closer even, so his knees are pressed against Blaine’s and his hand drops to the mattress beneath them. “Why not?” he asks.
Blaine shrugs in response but he’s not really thinking about the question. He’s thinking about the pad of Kurt’s finger and how it’s tracing under the hem of his tee-shirt, around the knob of hipbone there. His eyes refocus on Kurt’s and he realizes that the younger boy is studying him rather seriously. “What?” he asks, voice muted and holding nothing but simple curiosity.
Kurt shakes his head a little and turns onto his back. Blaine immediately moves in, eager to regain their proximity. Puzzling himself to Kurt’s side, he noses his face into his neck. When Kurt speaks a moment later, Blaine can feel it. He can feel the sound travelling through Kurt’s throat and thrumming against his cheek and jaw. “I always liked thunder,” he’s saying. His hand finds its way between Blaine’s shoulder blades before sliding up, weaving fingers through the curls. Blaine huffs out an easy sound of appreciation, canting his head into the touch. “It was something bigger than me that I could believe in, without it having to be some…god or religion.”
Blaine sits up a little at that, putting his weight into his hands on either side of Kurt. “Thunder worship?” he asks, not even a hint of teasing in his voice.
Kurt purses his lips but nods and murmurs something like “Something like that.”
“That why I don’t like it all that much.” Kurt cocks his head to the side, not understanding, so Blaine goes on. “Thunder, I mean. Because it’s something bigger. Sort of…unnerving, I guess.”
Kurt almost-smirks, almost-makes a comment about just about everything being bigger than Blaine. But he doesn’t because - Blaine wouldn’t care, but - they have a sweet, quiet little atmosphere here and he doesn’t want to break that with his snark, however perfect the comment might be. Instead, he reaches a hand to cup Blaine’s cheek and hefts himself up a little so they can meet lips.
Blaine is pushing back, slanting Kurt’s spine against the mattress and then shifting himself, laying his body more fully over Kurt’s. His got his lips trailing down the younger boy’s neck when another crack of thunder rings out. Blaine doesn’t notice for once, doesn’t flinch. Kurt, however, does. He fits his hands on either side of Blaine’s face and urges him up and away. Blaine obliges but is not the least bit happy about it. His expression conveys that much and Kurt only rolls his eyes at it. “Wait, just… C’mon,” he says, as if it’s obvious where they’re going…as if it’s obvious that they’re even going somewhere. But his legs are slung over the edge of the bed and he’s tugging on his shoes. Blaine, once more, can only comply.
And then he’s being led through the corridors of Dalton by hand. And he would be put-out over it (because if he wasn’t going to be making out with his boyfriend, then he really did have a lot of studying to do for Calculus yet, thank you very much) except every so often Kurt looks back at him to make sure he’s keeping up and the look on his face… He’s all red-cheeked and smiling and he’s more excited than when the opening strains of that wicked awesome “Thriller/Heads Will Roll” mash-up played over the McKinley football field. So Blaine follows Kurt and soon finds his enthusiasm catching a little, even though he has no idea what this is about or where they’re going and “I know a short-cut,” is echoing through his ears from months ago, when he ran down this hallway, holding the same hand of this same boy. Except it had all been so very different then.
Soon enough, Kurt is pushing through one of the side exits and they’re out in the middle of the courtyard. The rain is pounding down now but it’s warm and musky and smells like what relaxation feels like. Kurt has let go of his hand and taken several steps away, face tipped up to the storm. A bolt of thunder hits the clouds and Blaine flinches but Kurt laughs, open and light and musical. His perfect hair is plastered against his forehead and temple and mud is squelching around the hem of his Dalton pants but he’s just laughing like it’s his job.
Blaine moves out to meet him, rain quickly making his hair heavy and dripping over his face. It’s grey in the sky but everything seems sort of green and that makes Blaine remember some old Nickel Creek song that his mother used to sing under her breath all the time. He hums a bar of the chorus when he catches Kurt, pressing their foreheads together, curls mingling with soggy bangs. His hands are on Kurt’s waist and Kurt’s are cupping his elbows and their kissing, kissing.
Thunder rumbles across the sky and this time neither of the boys notices. The rain just continues falling and they just continue kissing.