Fic: Conversations with Spoons
Title: Conversations with Spoons
Rating: R for Santana's mouth
Word Count: 1400
Pairings/Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Santana, Cooper Anderson
Spoilers: Michael and The Spanish Teacher
Summary: Kurt and Santana visit Blaine after his operation. Another member of his family turns up to check on him.
This is a sort of companion piece to my story, I Will Stand with You at the Gates of Hell. You don't have to read that one to understand this, however, it just sets up my personal headcanon for the beginnings of the Klaintana friendship. And the spooning.
I have no idea where this came from. It is ridiculously silly and I'm completely whacked out on cold meds. So hopefully it will be humourous to others besides me.
“So, are you permanently blinded or what?” Santana asks by way of greeting, strutting into Blaine's bedroom. She stops next to the bed and gives him a wide grin. “You missed some fun this week, Small Fry,” she continues before he has the chance to answer. “I shot Mr. Schue down for being an offensive douchebag and we were all graced with the presence of Hottie McPerfectTeeth in glee. Even your puritan boyfriend was swooning like a 12 year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.”
“Oh, I was not,” Kurt grumbles from in amongst Blaine's pillows.
Santana snorts. “He totally was. I can't blame him though. I don't even like sausage and even I was a bit overcome. Those were some impressive pheromones wafting off that man.”
She jumps up on the bed and throws her legs in the air right in front of Blaine. “Your babycakes was totally doing this on a chair in the choir room. It was disturbingly hot.”
“My babycakes is always hot,” Blaine replies with a waggle of his eyebrows in Kurt's direction.
“You're flying high on pain meds right now, aren't you?”
“Yes indeedy.”
“That is the only reason I am letting you get away with what you just said. I'm impressed though, Pipsqueak. I went all spread eagle in your face and you didn't even shriek at me to keep my vagina away from you the way your boyfriend did to Berry that time when he was high.”
“Wait, what? When were you high, Kurt?”
“Puck fed us tainted cupcakes.”
“Tainted with the ganga.”
“Oh my God, are you serious?” Blaine falls back against his pillows, laughing.
“It wasn't funny! I had to sit through a sex ed video of a woman pushing a watermelon-sized child out of her vagina. I was traumatized. And then Rachel tried to kiss me!”
“On the cheek. Hence the shrieking. Though, even without the vagina trauma, I would have still shrieked if she came at me with her lips pursed.”
“Why have you never told me that story? That's the greatest story ever.”
“No, it's humiliating. Besides, I never want Dad to find out and kill Puck.”
“Damn, sophomore year was crazy. Did you ever hear about when Kurt was wasted at school and barfed all over Miss Pillsbury? That one's a classic.”
“Oh my God. Please stop.”
“No way,” Blaine says, waving away Kurt's protests and grinning at Santana. “I need to know this. For science.”
“Well, you know how Miss P. has those big, innocent doe eyes? Kurt totally says to her 'Oh, Bambi, I cried so hard when those hunters shot your mommy', and then he yaks all over her adorable shoes.”
“Jimmy Choos,” Kurt says sadly, hanging his head. “It was a travesty.”
“She's got a raging case of OCD, too. I think she got dipped in disinfectant at the hospital or something.”
“These are the best stories ever!” Blaine gasps, laughing so hard there are tears in his eye. “Tell me more! I can't believe you got drunk at school!”
“Stop laughing at me! I'm allowed to do stupid stuff sometimes too! I'd been fighting with my dad a lot before I came out and it was sort of a stress reliever, okay?” Kurt flopped down and pressed his red face into his giggling boyfriend's thigh.
“Papa Bear Perfect and you were fighting? That actually happens?”
Blaine is suddenly serious. “Why were you fighting with your dad, Kurt?”
“I guess he was just getting frustrated with me, waiting for me to tell him that I'm gay. We never really talked about it a whole lot. It was better after I did.”
“Why was he waiting for that?” Santana asks. “If he already knew what did he care if you told him.”
“So we could talk about it and be open or something. I don't know. Of course he already knew. People on the space station can tell I'm gay after all.”
“It's true. And if your hair and clothes and general demeanour doesn't set their gaydar aflame, the fact that your face is pressed so dangerously close to Little Blainers would likely clinch it.”
“Oh my God, you're such a pervert!”
“Just to clarify,” Santana says in her extra sweet voice. “Seeing as you're little all over, Blaine. I was talking about your penis.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Kurt groans from Blaine's lap. “How is it possible to love and yet hate someone at the same time?”
“Me?” Blaine asks with an adorable pout.
“What? No. I don't hate you even a little bit.”
“Aww, you love me, Ladyface! You finally admitted to it!”
“And hate you.”
“Whatever. I heard that shit.”
“Careful what you say, Kurt. You never know what she might have taped to her underboob.”
Santana throws back her head and laughs. “Oh, my sweet little gaybies. Give Auntie Snix some sugar. Into formation. I call littlest spoon.”
~*~
Santana startles from her state of near sleep and opens her eyes to see a strange man standing at the foot of the bed staring down at them.
“Er... hello? Who are all of you?” he asks.
“We're the McKinley High Queer Club. I'm President Snix and these are my protégés - Gay One and Gay Two. And who might you be, lurking about in Blainers' room like you own the place, Hottie McStrangerGuy?”
“Real original, Santana,” Kurt grumbles from behind her.
“Shut up, I was almost asleep. My brain is only working at half bitch. Getting spooned by gay boys has that effect on me.”
“I'm Cooper.”
“Thas jus my brother,” Blaine slurs, his arms tightening around Kurt.
“Just your brother? Hold up... You've got a secret hot brother? I've got my underboob at the ready this time to catch the swooning so there can be no future denial.”
“Shut up, Satan. I wasn't swooning.”
“Calm yo tits, Ladyface. But seriously. Justin Bieber concert levels, Blainers. Justin. Bieber.”
“That's gross,” Blaine mumbles. “Is my brother. Wait...” Blaine's messy head pops up from where it was buried in the back of Kurt's neck. “Whatcha doin' here, Cooper?”
“You had an operation, Blaine. I'm just here to check up on my little brother.”
“Okay. Imma go back to sleep now.” Blaine hums and slides his hands up under Kurt's shirt.
“He's very high,” Kurt explains.
“Yeah, I caught that. Who are you again?” the brother asks.
“We're his guard gays. I'm Santana. The pretty dandy being drooled on by your brother is your future bro-in-law, Prancerella.”
“Kurt.”
“Yeah, that. Blainers is totally feeling you up right now, isn't he?”
“Yeah, a little.”
“Well, at least he's not flicking your nips or french kissing your assho - ” Kurt claps a hand over Santana's mouth and her laughter tickles his palm.
Blaine mutters “maybe later” into the back of Kurt's neck and he prays to no one that neither Santana nor Blaine's brother heard him.
“Anway, brother-type person, we gon go to sleep now. But feel free to come back later and grace our eyes with your hotness.”
“Er...”
“Ignore her. We mostly do. It was nice to sort of meet you.”
“You couldn't ignore me if you tried.” She reaches a hand back and pokes Blaine in the hip. “Blainers, your boyfriend is being a bitch to me.”
“Don't poke him! He just had surgery and he needs his sleep!”
“Like that's gonna stop you from poking him later, Top of the Fops.”
“Oh my God! You are a terrible, horrible person!” Kurt feels the tickle of Blaine's breath on the back on his neck as he laughs. “Don't laugh, Blaine! It will only encourage her.”
“He wants to encourage me. Me and Blainers are BFF. He thinks I'm hilarious. Deal with it.”
~*~
Cooper Anderson leans against his brother's closed bedroom door, a smile breaking over his face. He came as soon as he could, worried that Blaine's troubles were starting all over again. But his little brother seems to be in good hands.
Rating: R for Santana's mouth
Word Count: 1400
Pairings/Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Santana, Cooper Anderson
Spoilers: Michael and The Spanish Teacher
Summary: Kurt and Santana visit Blaine after his operation. Another member of his family turns up to check on him.
This is a sort of companion piece to my story, I Will Stand with You at the Gates of Hell. You don't have to read that one to understand this, however, it just sets up my personal headcanon for the beginnings of the Klaintana friendship. And the spooning.
I have no idea where this came from. It is ridiculously silly and I'm completely whacked out on cold meds. So hopefully it will be humourous to others besides me.
“So, are you permanently blinded or what?” Santana asks by way of greeting, strutting into Blaine's bedroom. She stops next to the bed and gives him a wide grin. “You missed some fun this week, Small Fry,” she continues before he has the chance to answer. “I shot Mr. Schue down for being an offensive douchebag and we were all graced with the presence of Hottie McPerfectTeeth in glee. Even your puritan boyfriend was swooning like a 12 year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.”
“Oh, I was not,” Kurt grumbles from in amongst Blaine's pillows.
Santana snorts. “He totally was. I can't blame him though. I don't even like sausage and even I was a bit overcome. Those were some impressive pheromones wafting off that man.”
She jumps up on the bed and throws her legs in the air right in front of Blaine. “Your babycakes was totally doing this on a chair in the choir room. It was disturbingly hot.”
“My babycakes is always hot,” Blaine replies with a waggle of his eyebrows in Kurt's direction.
“You're flying high on pain meds right now, aren't you?”
“Yes indeedy.”
“That is the only reason I am letting you get away with what you just said. I'm impressed though, Pipsqueak. I went all spread eagle in your face and you didn't even shriek at me to keep my vagina away from you the way your boyfriend did to Berry that time when he was high.”
“Wait, what? When were you high, Kurt?”
“Puck fed us tainted cupcakes.”
“Tainted with the ganga.”
“Oh my God, are you serious?” Blaine falls back against his pillows, laughing.
“It wasn't funny! I had to sit through a sex ed video of a woman pushing a watermelon-sized child out of her vagina. I was traumatized. And then Rachel tried to kiss me!”
“On the cheek. Hence the shrieking. Though, even without the vagina trauma, I would have still shrieked if she came at me with her lips pursed.”
“Why have you never told me that story? That's the greatest story ever.”
“No, it's humiliating. Besides, I never want Dad to find out and kill Puck.”
“Damn, sophomore year was crazy. Did you ever hear about when Kurt was wasted at school and barfed all over Miss Pillsbury? That one's a classic.”
“Oh my God. Please stop.”
“No way,” Blaine says, waving away Kurt's protests and grinning at Santana. “I need to know this. For science.”
“Well, you know how Miss P. has those big, innocent doe eyes? Kurt totally says to her 'Oh, Bambi, I cried so hard when those hunters shot your mommy', and then he yaks all over her adorable shoes.”
“Jimmy Choos,” Kurt says sadly, hanging his head. “It was a travesty.”
“She's got a raging case of OCD, too. I think she got dipped in disinfectant at the hospital or something.”
“These are the best stories ever!” Blaine gasps, laughing so hard there are tears in his eye. “Tell me more! I can't believe you got drunk at school!”
“Stop laughing at me! I'm allowed to do stupid stuff sometimes too! I'd been fighting with my dad a lot before I came out and it was sort of a stress reliever, okay?” Kurt flopped down and pressed his red face into his giggling boyfriend's thigh.
“Papa Bear Perfect and you were fighting? That actually happens?”
Blaine is suddenly serious. “Why were you fighting with your dad, Kurt?”
“I guess he was just getting frustrated with me, waiting for me to tell him that I'm gay. We never really talked about it a whole lot. It was better after I did.”
“Why was he waiting for that?” Santana asks. “If he already knew what did he care if you told him.”
“So we could talk about it and be open or something. I don't know. Of course he already knew. People on the space station can tell I'm gay after all.”
“It's true. And if your hair and clothes and general demeanour doesn't set their gaydar aflame, the fact that your face is pressed so dangerously close to Little Blainers would likely clinch it.”
“Oh my God, you're such a pervert!”
“Just to clarify,” Santana says in her extra sweet voice. “Seeing as you're little all over, Blaine. I was talking about your penis.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Kurt groans from Blaine's lap. “How is it possible to love and yet hate someone at the same time?”
“Me?” Blaine asks with an adorable pout.
“What? No. I don't hate you even a little bit.”
“Aww, you love me, Ladyface! You finally admitted to it!”
“And hate you.”
“Whatever. I heard that shit.”
“Careful what you say, Kurt. You never know what she might have taped to her underboob.”
Santana throws back her head and laughs. “Oh, my sweet little gaybies. Give Auntie Snix some sugar. Into formation. I call littlest spoon.”
~*~
Santana startles from her state of near sleep and opens her eyes to see a strange man standing at the foot of the bed staring down at them.
“Er... hello? Who are all of you?” he asks.
“We're the McKinley High Queer Club. I'm President Snix and these are my protégés - Gay One and Gay Two. And who might you be, lurking about in Blainers' room like you own the place, Hottie McStrangerGuy?”
“Real original, Santana,” Kurt grumbles from behind her.
“Shut up, I was almost asleep. My brain is only working at half bitch. Getting spooned by gay boys has that effect on me.”
“I'm Cooper.”
“Thas jus my brother,” Blaine slurs, his arms tightening around Kurt.
“Just your brother? Hold up... You've got a secret hot brother? I've got my underboob at the ready this time to catch the swooning so there can be no future denial.”
“Shut up, Satan. I wasn't swooning.”
“Calm yo tits, Ladyface. But seriously. Justin Bieber concert levels, Blainers. Justin. Bieber.”
“That's gross,” Blaine mumbles. “Is my brother. Wait...” Blaine's messy head pops up from where it was buried in the back of Kurt's neck. “Whatcha doin' here, Cooper?”
“You had an operation, Blaine. I'm just here to check up on my little brother.”
“Okay. Imma go back to sleep now.” Blaine hums and slides his hands up under Kurt's shirt.
“He's very high,” Kurt explains.
“Yeah, I caught that. Who are you again?” the brother asks.
“We're his guard gays. I'm Santana. The pretty dandy being drooled on by your brother is your future bro-in-law, Prancerella.”
“Kurt.”
“Yeah, that. Blainers is totally feeling you up right now, isn't he?”
“Yeah, a little.”
“Well, at least he's not flicking your nips or french kissing your assho - ” Kurt claps a hand over Santana's mouth and her laughter tickles his palm.
Blaine mutters “maybe later” into the back of Kurt's neck and he prays to no one that neither Santana nor Blaine's brother heard him.
“Anway, brother-type person, we gon go to sleep now. But feel free to come back later and grace our eyes with your hotness.”
“Er...”
“Ignore her. We mostly do. It was nice to sort of meet you.”
“You couldn't ignore me if you tried.” She reaches a hand back and pokes Blaine in the hip. “Blainers, your boyfriend is being a bitch to me.”
“Don't poke him! He just had surgery and he needs his sleep!”
“Like that's gonna stop you from poking him later, Top of the Fops.”
“Oh my God! You are a terrible, horrible person!” Kurt feels the tickle of Blaine's breath on the back on his neck as he laughs. “Don't laugh, Blaine! It will only encourage her.”
“He wants to encourage me. Me and Blainers are BFF. He thinks I'm hilarious. Deal with it.”
~*~
Cooper Anderson leans against his brother's closed bedroom door, a smile breaking over his face. He came as soon as he could, worried that Blaine's troubles were starting all over again. But his little brother seems to be in good hands.