First Klaine Kit assorted drabbles & ficlets
Title: Affection
Rating: G
Wordcount: 265
Characters/Pairings: Burt Hummel, Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Burt happens upon Kurt & Blaine being adorable.
They're giggling in the kitchen when he gets home from the mall. It had been packed with last minute Christmas shoppers such as himself, and he's exhausted after a single hour of dodging people and waiting in lines.
When he reaches the top of the stairs and peeks into the kitchen, ready to say hello or maybe something teasing, he pauses instead, watching.
They're baking something - ingredients measured in dishes and cups spread across the counter and Kurt in charge of his mother's old mixer. There is a floury handprint in the centre of Kurt's back and Burt has to stifle a laugh, imagining his reaction when he discovers it there.
“Why am I doing all the work here?” Kurt says, his tone joking. “I don't believe I've had my promised cookies twice this year, mister.”
Blaine turns his face towards Kurt, doing that thing he sometimes does, chin lifted, eyes half closed like a contented cat, smiling and looking like he's nuzzling the air between him and Kurt. Kurt laughs a little - delicate, gentle - and leans forward to rub their noses together. Apparently that isn't enough contact for Blaine, who threads his arms around Kurt's waist and reels him in, hugging him to his chest, his hands pressing flat against Kurt's back, adding more flour handprints to his otherwise crisp grey shirt.
“Love you,” Blaine says, and although Burt can't see his face, he knows his boy is smiling like he never smiles for anyone else.
Feeling grateful and content, Burt goes upstairs in search of his wife.
Title: comfort, warmth, love
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 160
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: cuddles
It's astonishing, really, how perfectly their limbs tangle together, how perfectly their bodies mould around each other - close and cozy and comforting.
Sex is amazing, feels amazing, and Kurt loves to be close to Blaine in that way, to share that level of intimacy. But on days like this when the weak light of autumn is fading into an inky purple and Kurt's nose is still cold from the long trip home from Manhattan and just doesn't want to get warm, no matter how much he nuzzles it into Blaine's warm, spicy-scented neck - on days like this, this, this perfect chaos of their intertwined bodies is exactly what Kurt craves.
Nothing in the world can make him happier, more at peace, then when Blaine holds him close and whispers love into his jaw, his neck, his eyelids, his fingertips.
This is bliss, he answers back with his kisses, and Blaine snuggles into him and smiles against his heart.
Title: Estate Sale
Rating: G
Wordcount: 386
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: They were supposed to be looking for furniture.
Estate sales are like a day at an amusement park to Kurt. There is art and music and furniture - oh, god, look at those Art Deco dining room chairs, Blaine, we need them! - and even the occasional surprise vintage couture, like the '50's Chanel he'd picked up for Rachel to wear to her first opening night after party.
And he and Blaine are a month away from moving into their first place, just the two of them without Rachel and Santana, whom he adores, but still. He needs to find special pieces. Pieces that he can design an entire room around. Pieces that say “elegant, modern, fashionable men”. Pieces that will furnish the beginning of their adult lives together.
What they don't need is what Blaine is currently wearing on his head. And on various other parts of his body.
“Blaine, what are you doing?”
He looks awfully proud of himself - old tweed pork pie hat perched crookedly on his head, a vast assortment of bowties dangling around his neck and several old, mouldering smoking jackets draped over the crook of his arm. “Aren't these amazing?”
“Blaine, there's vintage and there's... that... some old man's very ancient wardrobe. We're supposed to be here looking for furniture for our new place -”
“But, the ties -”
Kurt takes a closer look at the strips of fabric looped around Blaine's neck and draping onto his chest - and okay, they are classic patterns and colours. “All right, the ties are good. But those jackets have got to go.”
Blaine nods and hangs the jackets back on the rolling rack where he found them. “The ties and the hat,” he says, readjusting the latter on his head, a twinkle in his eye.
Kurt heaves the dramatic sigh of the long-suffering. “Fine. But I get to buy that plum fainting couch that you turned your nose up at.”
“Deal,” Blaine agrees with a grin.
“You only grabbed the jackets to make the rest look good in comparison, didn't you?”
Blaine's grin widens. “Now, would I ever do something like that?”
“And you probably liked that couch, too,” Kurt mumbles under his breath, shaking his head fondly as Blaine all but bounces into the next room.
Title: By Any Other Name
Rating: G
Wordcount: 192
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Married life is all that it's cracked up to be.
The first time he gets to say it out loud and to someone who doesn't already know (Yes, Blaine, husbands. You've told me fifty-three times just this week), it's to a real estate agent who is helping them find a bigger place. And then the bank manager when they go to sign some loan papers. And then the new barista at their coffee shop. And the lady who bagged their groceries at Whole Foods...
“Blaine, are you never going to let me introduce myself ever again?”
“I'm sorry. I just really, really like saying it.”
Kurt rolls his eyes fondly and swipes at an errant curl behind Blaine's right ear. “I've noticed.”
At a dinner party with some of Rachel's new colleagues later that evening, Kurt beats him to the punch. “Yes, I'm the best friend-slash-former roommate Rachel was telling you about,” he says with a laugh. “And this is my husband, Blaine.”
As Kurt's long fingers curl around his hand and he motions his head in Blaine's direction, smiling proudly, Blaine realizes that he likes when Kurt says it. Maybe even more than saying it himself.
Title: That's what it means
Rating: G
Wordcount: 619
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Blaine has a run-in with a peculiar woman after leaving Battery Park. Written before 4x04 aired and therefore not canon compliant.
He's wandering, hapless, hopeless, on occasion sobbing: a complete an utter mess. Kurt has run off. Kurt probably never wants to speak to him again. He doesn't know what he should do. He crosses the street, heading in the general direction of Kurt's loft, not sure if it would be better for him to just hail a cab and find some way back to Ohio tonight, when a lady clutches his forearm, stopping him in his tracks.
Her eyes are wide and serious, her mouth lolling open. He's about to ask her if something is wrong, if he can help her in any way, when she begins to speak. Her voice is strange, like it doesn't belong to her. “He's sitting on a narrow platform,” she says, “floating in the sky.”
Blaine tries to step back, away from her tightening hand, but she is much stronger than she looks and she holds him close.
“And though it would be easier,” she continues, staring into Blaine's eyes, her own widening even further, like she is staring directly into his soul. “Easier to find a safe place of your own, you cling to the side of his. Because you love him. Because you never want to be without him.”
Blaine's heart picks up speed and he feels tears prickling at the backs of his eyes, ready to begin falling again. The lady nods just once, her grip slackening. “But you have stopped clinging,” she says sadly. “Your fingers are tired and cramped and your muscles gave out and you could no longer hold on so precariously.”
She shakes her head sadly as Blaine's tears begin to fall in earnest. She releases him, running her hand soothingly up and down the arm she had been clutching. “But the thing is, dearest boy, there was no need for your clinging. Never any need. All you needed to do was ask and he would have given you a safe place next to him, a place on his high perch. If you had asked he would have moved over. For you. Only for you. Ever.”
A strangled sob escapes Blaine's throat and he can't even bring himself to be embarrassed. The lady nods again and withdraws her hand and the warmth of her body. “That is what it means to be someone's mate,” she whispers.
Blaine closes his eyes and wipes a hand across them, mopping up the wetness with the sleeve of his sweater. When he looks back up, she is gone.
It doesn't take him long to locate Kurt's building. He had been much closer than he knew.
Rachel lets him in.
When he finds Kurt, curled into a ball on his bed behind his makeshift walls, his heart breaks anew. He toes off his shoes and lays his jacket over a chair before sliding into the bed behind him. Kurt sniffles and breathes out, his breath hitching. “I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm sorry.”
Kurt lets out a broken sob and Blaine wraps his arms around him and holds him tight, reassuring him that he didn't mean it. That he was being stupid. That he was sorry, sorry, always sorry.
He feels Kurt's head move, his hair brushes against Blaine's cheek as he nods. “So you don't want to break up with me?”
“No. No. Never. Kurt - Can you... will you move over for me?”
Kurt rolls over onto his back, looking at the expanse of mattress behind Blaine. He furrows his brow, confused, but he shifts over anyway, closer to the edge of the bed.
“I love you,” Blaine breathes out, and presses a desperate kiss to Kurt's open lips.
Title: All the ways that matter
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 818
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Forever & Always. Afterlife!fic.
The last thing he hears in life is his daughter's sobbing before everything goes black.
The contrast of that darkness and the brightness he finds upon waking burns his eyes, making them tear up as he lets them drift open - a salty veil diffusing the clear blue sky of a crisp Spring day. But... it had been summer and he hadn't been wearing a coat, let alone a scarf.
He stands from the spot on the grass where he had been reclining and glances around at the clearing. There is a large, skeletal tree in the centre, still bare from the harshness of winter, and he finds it so heartbreakingly familiar, but he can't quite seem to place it...
And then he hears a tinkling laugh. It's one so breathtaking and beloved that it nearly takes his knees out from under him. It's a laugh he hasn't heard in person for more than six years. One he misses more than anything in the world.
Kurt steps into the clearing and smiles.
It should be strange, because, sure, this is his Kurt, but the one he knew at sixteen - not a distinguished grey or crow's foot in sight. Blaine finds himself shrinking into his body a little, embarrassed by the age that he doesn't feel.
But Kurt doesn't notice anything amiss, glancing around, his perfect smile still in place. “Oh, look where you've brought us, my love,” he says.
Blaine looks around in confusion again, trying to place the tree and the field... “I brought us here? I was just trying to puzzle out where here was.” And how you are here, he adds in his mind, and why I am glued to this spot when I should be latching onto you and never letting go.
Kurt laughs again and Blaine's eyes tear up, this time for a wholly different reason. “It'll come to you,” Kurt promises. He stares into Blaine's eyes, then blinks once, slowly. His head tilts to one side and the corners of his full lips turn up just slightly - and something hits Blaine, suits and jackets and flowers.
We got each other out of all of this.
He had wanted to say I love you. I always have since the very first moment and please, I am so afraid of doing something wrong and being rejected by you, because I have never wanted or needed another being the way I do you. Please cherish me and never leave me.
“This is where we buried Pavarotti.” He still can't say the words. He has already lost this Kurt. And every other one.
Kurt grins, delighted that Blaine figured it out, and the glue unsticks at last and Blaine can move freely and towards his love. Just as he reaches Kurt, a tiny yellow bird flits by, chirping happily up into the tree's branches.
“Was that...?” He shakes his head. Impossible.
“Of course.”
“But Pavarotti... he's dead.” And so are you. He doesn't voice that. He can't. It hurts too much.
But Kurt understands. He sees the pain. “Nothing dies here, Blaine.”
And that's when he remembers - Kate holding his hand and begging him not to go; the bland walls and antiseptic smell of the hospital room.... “Because we're already dead.”
“In a way. But not in any ways that matter.”
He looks at Kurt. His lovely Kurt, youthful and calm and beautiful, then down at his own hands... But there are no age spots. No wrinkles. They are soft and young and cold. He suddenly wants Kurt to hold him, because he feels so cold. “If we're dead, then why are my hands and nose getting colder the longer we're out here?”
Kurt laughs again and reaches out to grasp one of Blaine's reddening hands. He rubs it soothingly with both of his own. “Because you always get cold hands and nose. And toes, come to that. Which you had better not press into my legs in bed later, mister.” He gives Blaine a flirtatious little wink before taking him into his arms. Blaine melts against him and Kurt squeals and slaps him on the ass when he bores his frosty nose into the side of his neck.
And just like that they are laughing, as though two thousand, three hundred and twenty-three days of soul-crushing ache had never happened at all.
“But before that,” Kurt says, implication written all over his face, “there are a few people who would like to say hello. And it was pretty difficult to convince Cooper to keep away when I came to meet you as it was, so I'd really rather not have him interrupt an even more personal reunion.”
Blaine laughs and kisses Kurt's smiling mouth and Pavarotti swoops down from the treetops, trilling a joyous song.
Rating: G
Wordcount: 265
Characters/Pairings: Burt Hummel, Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Burt happens upon Kurt & Blaine being adorable.
They're giggling in the kitchen when he gets home from the mall. It had been packed with last minute Christmas shoppers such as himself, and he's exhausted after a single hour of dodging people and waiting in lines.
When he reaches the top of the stairs and peeks into the kitchen, ready to say hello or maybe something teasing, he pauses instead, watching.
They're baking something - ingredients measured in dishes and cups spread across the counter and Kurt in charge of his mother's old mixer. There is a floury handprint in the centre of Kurt's back and Burt has to stifle a laugh, imagining his reaction when he discovers it there.
“Why am I doing all the work here?” Kurt says, his tone joking. “I don't believe I've had my promised cookies twice this year, mister.”
Blaine turns his face towards Kurt, doing that thing he sometimes does, chin lifted, eyes half closed like a contented cat, smiling and looking like he's nuzzling the air between him and Kurt. Kurt laughs a little - delicate, gentle - and leans forward to rub their noses together. Apparently that isn't enough contact for Blaine, who threads his arms around Kurt's waist and reels him in, hugging him to his chest, his hands pressing flat against Kurt's back, adding more flour handprints to his otherwise crisp grey shirt.
“Love you,” Blaine says, and although Burt can't see his face, he knows his boy is smiling like he never smiles for anyone else.
Feeling grateful and content, Burt goes upstairs in search of his wife.
Title: comfort, warmth, love
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 160
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: cuddles
It's astonishing, really, how perfectly their limbs tangle together, how perfectly their bodies mould around each other - close and cozy and comforting.
Sex is amazing, feels amazing, and Kurt loves to be close to Blaine in that way, to share that level of intimacy. But on days like this when the weak light of autumn is fading into an inky purple and Kurt's nose is still cold from the long trip home from Manhattan and just doesn't want to get warm, no matter how much he nuzzles it into Blaine's warm, spicy-scented neck - on days like this, this, this perfect chaos of their intertwined bodies is exactly what Kurt craves.
Nothing in the world can make him happier, more at peace, then when Blaine holds him close and whispers love into his jaw, his neck, his eyelids, his fingertips.
This is bliss, he answers back with his kisses, and Blaine snuggles into him and smiles against his heart.
Title: Estate Sale
Rating: G
Wordcount: 386
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: They were supposed to be looking for furniture.
Estate sales are like a day at an amusement park to Kurt. There is art and music and furniture - oh, god, look at those Art Deco dining room chairs, Blaine, we need them! - and even the occasional surprise vintage couture, like the '50's Chanel he'd picked up for Rachel to wear to her first opening night after party.
And he and Blaine are a month away from moving into their first place, just the two of them without Rachel and Santana, whom he adores, but still. He needs to find special pieces. Pieces that he can design an entire room around. Pieces that say “elegant, modern, fashionable men”. Pieces that will furnish the beginning of their adult lives together.
What they don't need is what Blaine is currently wearing on his head. And on various other parts of his body.
“Blaine, what are you doing?”
He looks awfully proud of himself - old tweed pork pie hat perched crookedly on his head, a vast assortment of bowties dangling around his neck and several old, mouldering smoking jackets draped over the crook of his arm. “Aren't these amazing?”
“Blaine, there's vintage and there's... that... some old man's very ancient wardrobe. We're supposed to be here looking for furniture for our new place -”
“But, the ties -”
Kurt takes a closer look at the strips of fabric looped around Blaine's neck and draping onto his chest - and okay, they are classic patterns and colours. “All right, the ties are good. But those jackets have got to go.”
Blaine nods and hangs the jackets back on the rolling rack where he found them. “The ties and the hat,” he says, readjusting the latter on his head, a twinkle in his eye.
Kurt heaves the dramatic sigh of the long-suffering. “Fine. But I get to buy that plum fainting couch that you turned your nose up at.”
“Deal,” Blaine agrees with a grin.
“You only grabbed the jackets to make the rest look good in comparison, didn't you?”
Blaine's grin widens. “Now, would I ever do something like that?”
“And you probably liked that couch, too,” Kurt mumbles under his breath, shaking his head fondly as Blaine all but bounces into the next room.
Title: By Any Other Name
Rating: G
Wordcount: 192
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Married life is all that it's cracked up to be.
The first time he gets to say it out loud and to someone who doesn't already know (Yes, Blaine, husbands. You've told me fifty-three times just this week), it's to a real estate agent who is helping them find a bigger place. And then the bank manager when they go to sign some loan papers. And then the new barista at their coffee shop. And the lady who bagged their groceries at Whole Foods...
“Blaine, are you never going to let me introduce myself ever again?”
“I'm sorry. I just really, really like saying it.”
Kurt rolls his eyes fondly and swipes at an errant curl behind Blaine's right ear. “I've noticed.”
At a dinner party with some of Rachel's new colleagues later that evening, Kurt beats him to the punch. “Yes, I'm the best friend-slash-former roommate Rachel was telling you about,” he says with a laugh. “And this is my husband, Blaine.”
As Kurt's long fingers curl around his hand and he motions his head in Blaine's direction, smiling proudly, Blaine realizes that he likes when Kurt says it. Maybe even more than saying it himself.
Title: That's what it means
Rating: G
Wordcount: 619
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Blaine has a run-in with a peculiar woman after leaving Battery Park. Written before 4x04 aired and therefore not canon compliant.
He's wandering, hapless, hopeless, on occasion sobbing: a complete an utter mess. Kurt has run off. Kurt probably never wants to speak to him again. He doesn't know what he should do. He crosses the street, heading in the general direction of Kurt's loft, not sure if it would be better for him to just hail a cab and find some way back to Ohio tonight, when a lady clutches his forearm, stopping him in his tracks.
Her eyes are wide and serious, her mouth lolling open. He's about to ask her if something is wrong, if he can help her in any way, when she begins to speak. Her voice is strange, like it doesn't belong to her. “He's sitting on a narrow platform,” she says, “floating in the sky.”
Blaine tries to step back, away from her tightening hand, but she is much stronger than she looks and she holds him close.
“And though it would be easier,” she continues, staring into Blaine's eyes, her own widening even further, like she is staring directly into his soul. “Easier to find a safe place of your own, you cling to the side of his. Because you love him. Because you never want to be without him.”
Blaine's heart picks up speed and he feels tears prickling at the backs of his eyes, ready to begin falling again. The lady nods just once, her grip slackening. “But you have stopped clinging,” she says sadly. “Your fingers are tired and cramped and your muscles gave out and you could no longer hold on so precariously.”
She shakes her head sadly as Blaine's tears begin to fall in earnest. She releases him, running her hand soothingly up and down the arm she had been clutching. “But the thing is, dearest boy, there was no need for your clinging. Never any need. All you needed to do was ask and he would have given you a safe place next to him, a place on his high perch. If you had asked he would have moved over. For you. Only for you. Ever.”
A strangled sob escapes Blaine's throat and he can't even bring himself to be embarrassed. The lady nods again and withdraws her hand and the warmth of her body. “That is what it means to be someone's mate,” she whispers.
Blaine closes his eyes and wipes a hand across them, mopping up the wetness with the sleeve of his sweater. When he looks back up, she is gone.
It doesn't take him long to locate Kurt's building. He had been much closer than he knew.
Rachel lets him in.
When he finds Kurt, curled into a ball on his bed behind his makeshift walls, his heart breaks anew. He toes off his shoes and lays his jacket over a chair before sliding into the bed behind him. Kurt sniffles and breathes out, his breath hitching. “I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm sorry.”
Kurt lets out a broken sob and Blaine wraps his arms around him and holds him tight, reassuring him that he didn't mean it. That he was being stupid. That he was sorry, sorry, always sorry.
He feels Kurt's head move, his hair brushes against Blaine's cheek as he nods. “So you don't want to break up with me?”
“No. No. Never. Kurt - Can you... will you move over for me?”
Kurt rolls over onto his back, looking at the expanse of mattress behind Blaine. He furrows his brow, confused, but he shifts over anyway, closer to the edge of the bed.
“I love you,” Blaine breathes out, and presses a desperate kiss to Kurt's open lips.
Title: All the ways that matter
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 818
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Forever & Always. Afterlife!fic.
The last thing he hears in life is his daughter's sobbing before everything goes black.
The contrast of that darkness and the brightness he finds upon waking burns his eyes, making them tear up as he lets them drift open - a salty veil diffusing the clear blue sky of a crisp Spring day. But... it had been summer and he hadn't been wearing a coat, let alone a scarf.
He stands from the spot on the grass where he had been reclining and glances around at the clearing. There is a large, skeletal tree in the centre, still bare from the harshness of winter, and he finds it so heartbreakingly familiar, but he can't quite seem to place it...
And then he hears a tinkling laugh. It's one so breathtaking and beloved that it nearly takes his knees out from under him. It's a laugh he hasn't heard in person for more than six years. One he misses more than anything in the world.
Kurt steps into the clearing and smiles.
It should be strange, because, sure, this is his Kurt, but the one he knew at sixteen - not a distinguished grey or crow's foot in sight. Blaine finds himself shrinking into his body a little, embarrassed by the age that he doesn't feel.
But Kurt doesn't notice anything amiss, glancing around, his perfect smile still in place. “Oh, look where you've brought us, my love,” he says.
Blaine looks around in confusion again, trying to place the tree and the field... “I brought us here? I was just trying to puzzle out where here was.” And how you are here, he adds in his mind, and why I am glued to this spot when I should be latching onto you and never letting go.
Kurt laughs again and Blaine's eyes tear up, this time for a wholly different reason. “It'll come to you,” Kurt promises. He stares into Blaine's eyes, then blinks once, slowly. His head tilts to one side and the corners of his full lips turn up just slightly - and something hits Blaine, suits and jackets and flowers.
We got each other out of all of this.
He had wanted to say I love you. I always have since the very first moment and please, I am so afraid of doing something wrong and being rejected by you, because I have never wanted or needed another being the way I do you. Please cherish me and never leave me.
“This is where we buried Pavarotti.” He still can't say the words. He has already lost this Kurt. And every other one.
Kurt grins, delighted that Blaine figured it out, and the glue unsticks at last and Blaine can move freely and towards his love. Just as he reaches Kurt, a tiny yellow bird flits by, chirping happily up into the tree's branches.
“Was that...?” He shakes his head. Impossible.
“Of course.”
“But Pavarotti... he's dead.” And so are you. He doesn't voice that. He can't. It hurts too much.
But Kurt understands. He sees the pain. “Nothing dies here, Blaine.”
And that's when he remembers - Kate holding his hand and begging him not to go; the bland walls and antiseptic smell of the hospital room.... “Because we're already dead.”
“In a way. But not in any ways that matter.”
He looks at Kurt. His lovely Kurt, youthful and calm and beautiful, then down at his own hands... But there are no age spots. No wrinkles. They are soft and young and cold. He suddenly wants Kurt to hold him, because he feels so cold. “If we're dead, then why are my hands and nose getting colder the longer we're out here?”
Kurt laughs again and reaches out to grasp one of Blaine's reddening hands. He rubs it soothingly with both of his own. “Because you always get cold hands and nose. And toes, come to that. Which you had better not press into my legs in bed later, mister.” He gives Blaine a flirtatious little wink before taking him into his arms. Blaine melts against him and Kurt squeals and slaps him on the ass when he bores his frosty nose into the side of his neck.
And just like that they are laughing, as though two thousand, three hundred and twenty-three days of soul-crushing ache had never happened at all.
“But before that,” Kurt says, implication written all over his face, “there are a few people who would like to say hello. And it was pretty difficult to convince Cooper to keep away when I came to meet you as it was, so I'd really rather not have him interrupt an even more personal reunion.”
Blaine laughs and kisses Kurt's smiling mouth and Pavarotti swoops down from the treetops, trilling a joyous song.