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I will breathe in, breathe out (fic)

Media: Fic
Title: sweet sun, send me the moon
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Blaine/Kurt
Spoilers: Nope. This is pretty AU.
Warnings: Sap.
Word Count: 2900
Summary: Kurt is the son of the night, Blaine part of the day, somehow they manage to fall in love without touch, through the distance and gain the courage they need.
A/N: This fic has several lyrics in it from Sara Bareilles's Send Me The Moon. Enjoy. <3

(sweet sun, send me the moon)

Being the son of a moon god isn't all it's cracked up to be, as one Kurt Hummel can tell you.

Not that it's bad, because it really isn't. Seeing the night and the life it brings with it blossom is always a wonderful sight that few have truly experience.

He gets to travel with his father across their restricted land, bringing the shrouded night over it. Gets to watch the stars above sparkle endlessly, by now he's had enough time with them to identify all the constellations with his eyes closed.

Gets to help his dad illuminate the sky with the pale light of a whole moon, watching the essence of it reflect from trickling rivers.

Gets to see things mere humans hope for--the magic of night.

He gets all that, but there's this growing want--need inside him to see more, things he has been unable to see out of obligations to his father, to the night that's always covered him.

To see the yellow light that brightens everything.

To experience what lies beyond--what covers the land when night takes it's leave.

A plot of how to go around his father and be able to sneak into the night's end has already planted itself in his head. But he has yet to actually go through with it. Every time he was about to attempt it--he really was--something else happened that called to his attention.
Usually his father.

But it doesn't matter, because tonight's the night.

Distantly, he hears his father's voice from across the field. "Kurt, hurry on up before we're late!"

Well, maybe next time.


(Watch from the ground as the gold fluttered down from the sky)

It takes a few more times for Kurt to build up the strength to linger back far enough without calling to his dad's attention.

He fills his lungs with the chill of night air and walks back farther until he reaches a tall and demanding tree. Sitting down he waits for the stretch of night to start disappearing.

It doesn't take that long for him to see sparkles of something he's never seen before appear from behind the tree.

As he's about to stretch his hand out to come in contact with it, a paralyzing fear builds in his chest.

What if it hurts him?

What if all those fantasies and thoughts of being in the day are nothing but just that, fantasy?

With a scrambling of limbs, the pale boy is able to stand up, takes one last lingering glance out to the brightening place, with squinting eyes he's able to make out a male standing in the center of the field,
everything around him a bright golden color.

His head snaps in Kurt's direction after a few seconds and their eyes meet.

The other male has eyes unlike anything Kurt has ever come in contact with. Even from the distance between them he can see bright ember irises crowned with a earthy brown.

Something warm flutters in his stomach that vaguely reminds him of summer nights, and for those few seconds he's unaware of the light slowly creeping closer. Then he has to look away and sees only a few inches between him and the sun.

The fear bursts in his chest and with an intensity he didn't know he had he runs back into the safety of the night.

It isn't until everything's back to being shrouded in night that he turns back around. He can't see the brightness of day any longer.

Eventually, following the movement of the moon, he finds his way back to his father. The relief is evident on his worn face and Kurt feels a pang of guilt strike his heart. How could he possibly consider leaving his

"There you are, where the heck were you? I was getting real worried," He places a heavy hand on Kurt's shoulder and the younger Hummel is able to give him a feeble smile in return, leaning into the touch.

"Sorry, I ah," And he didn't really think of what he was going to say. Not the truth, not that he was going to wander out into the daylight where he doesn't belong. His icy gaze moves down to the dimly lit grass.
"I lost one of the buttons from my vest, I couldn't possibly leave it dad, it'd bother me to no end to know that my clothing is anything but perfect."

If his father knew he was lying, he didn't say so. He just smiled and rolled his eyes with a fondness that makes Kurt smile widen by a fraction.

With an arm slung around his shoulder, Kurt sticks by his father's side to bring the dark skies over the land.


The next time they come across the same area, he's drawn back to the tree he had previously hidden behind.

As his father slows down, he decides it's time to take a break and rests against the twining roots of the tree. With nimble fingers, Kurt skims the ridges of the tree before something bright and very much out of place under a risen root catches his eye.

He hesitates a second before picking at it and examining the object. It's folded delicately, like a bird.

A smile spreads on his lips as he turns the object in his hand, looking at the creases in it. When he tugs on a side of it, it unfolds and a dim worry that he's ruined it begins to spread itself.

The worry quickly washes away as the paper, now unfolded and wrinkled laying on the ground has a message in it.


It's simple enough, yet the feeling of summer nights spread itself in his chest again. He knows it's probably jumping to conclusions to think that the boy from before had written it, but he can't fight the feeling
that it had been him.

Unable to help himself, he digs for his own writing utensil from the satchel slung around his shoulder. He pulls out a pen from deep in the bag, but as he’s looking down at the piece of paper, he’s unable to come up with a smart response.

What should he say? What if he writes something stupid and the guy never leaves a wonderfully crafted note?

Deciding to write something before he chickens out, he settles to keep it simple;
Hello, and who may I ask is this?
(My name is Kurt, by the way.)

It’s forward, he thinks. And hopefully won’t scare the other away when he sees it. If he sees it. If it’s even him.

Before he freaks himself out even more, Kurt folds the paper in a neat little star the way his mother used to, and tucks it back under the root. He lets his gaze linger on the paper before getting up and finding his way back to his father.


It takes another twelve hours to get back to the tree. Not that he was counting or anything.

There’s an uncertain anticipation that flows through him as he makes his way back to the tree, it turns into a giddy feeling when he sees the note, now folded into a flower shape against the root.

His fingers are shaking slightly as he unfolds the letter carefully, he chooses not to question his reaction in favor of thinking it’s just because he might have made a friend that isn’t his dad.

He scans the wrinkly paper, the other’s handwriting is messier but legible.

Well hello Kurt. I’m Blaine. Are you by any chance that boy who was standing here last time?

I hope you don’t think it creepy of me, that I noticed and all.

A gentle laugh escapes his lips, the pen already finding its way into his hand.

I don’t find it creepy at all. I think it’s pretty flattering that you’d notice me.

Oh god, I sound like a girl now.

Why did I write that. Um.
Hello Blaine, tell me about yourself?
If you want. You don’t have to if it creeps you out.

His cheeks felt slightly heated. How was it possible to him to be so nervous in writing?

Still, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he folded the paper and tucked it back.


Over time, the highlight of Kurt's night is coming back to the tree and finding whatever message Blaine has left there.

Blaine who he has learned so much about, who likes sweet food and the smell of pine trees, who has curly hair, who can't draw much more than simple flowers and stick-figures but has the most intricate way with words, who is stuck in the day like Kurt is to the night only with a group named ’Warblers’ instead of a parent, whose voice he longs to hear.

Who he lo--likes, very much.

This time when he returns to the tree, an object stands out far more than a piece of paper. When he closes in on it, he sees it's a jar with something fluttering inside it.

He takes the container in his hand and turns it slowly, the thing inside looks like some type of insect Kurt has yet to see. It's wings are wide and orange with black spots scattered on it.

The letter is tied to the glass jar, he unties it and reads Blaine's writing.

'I recall you mentioning that you had no idea what a butterfly was when I mentioned that I feel them in my gut when I see your letters.

See, they're not bad. (So please, stop worrying.)

This is a Monarch Butterfly, by the way.

He can feel the heat rush to his cheeks, because this butterfly isn’t at all bad. It’s bright and fluttery and really pretty.

Slowly, he unwinds the cap, watching the winged creature as it twirls and flies in the air. A grin he can’t help spreads on his lips as it flutters out of his sight and into the twinkling stars of the night.

He gets up, jar in hand and runs to the nearest patch of tall grass, not caring if the dew of night ruins his shoes. It doesn’t take long for small, bright lights to arise from the grass.

With the jar open he runs towards the illuminated bugs until finally, one is captured in the jar. He closes the lid, poked with small airholes and returns to the tree. For a while he holds the case in his hand, watching the firefly buzz around, it’s light encasing almost the entire jar.

Thank you. The butterfly was lovely, and here is a firefly for you. Since you probably have none in the day. (I remember telling you I light up like a firefly when I see your responses, and you being the one who didn’t know what they were.)
Oh my goodness, when did we get so cheesy?

To see how awesome it can be you have to go in the shade or somewhere dark.

Tying the note to the jar with the sting, he sets the bright jar down by the trunk and makes his way back, the grin not leaving his face.

(Distance can't take what is hidden here safe in my chest)


The jar is still there next time, but it has nothing in it. Kurt inspects it carefully, squinting at it to try and see if there’s anything at all in there, the only thing he notes is that the lid is different, this time without the small holes poked in.
Giving up, he unties the note and scans it.

The firefly was pretty fantastic. Also, I think us being cheesy is also pretty fantastic. Don’t you?

And before you go throwing the jar away, I replaced the lid and tried to capture some of the air that we have in the day. I know it sounds stupid, and probably didn’t work and you might have even opened it before reading this, but.


He furrows his brow for a second before another of those Blaine-induced grins spreads itself on his lips. He holds the jar up, slowly uncapping the jar and placing it under his nose and takes a deep breath from it and--

It smells wonderful. Unlike anything Kurt has been around.

It’s warm, and different in the best way possible. He closes his eyes and lets the small amount of day wash over him, rushing through his veins as he imagines the sun in all it’s brightness covering the blue skies, and Blaine. Blaine standing there with a jar in his hands, attempting to catch the breeze in a jar.

For him.

He laughs to himself as the last of the warmth of day air escape it’s case. He sits there for a few seconds before standing to his feet. Fingers clutching at the glass he decides to return the favor.

As he’s running around, trying to encase some of the night air in the jar, he doesn’t realize the way the laughter falls from his lips so freely. How light he feels.

When he’s out of breath, he quickly winds the lid back on and slumps against the sturdy center of the tree, sinking to the ground.

You always find the most wonderfully obtuse things to do. And make me do them too.

I think you may be a bad influence. (But it’s okay, I like it.)

Here’s some night air for you. I really hope this works for you too, otherwise I would have ran around looking like a moron for no good reason.

(Holding my breath, last one I've got left, till I see you)


I think as long as I’m doing things for you, there’s no possible way it’s not a good reason to do it.

It’s shorter than he’s used to. But also forward in a really delicate way that makes his heart pound.

The thing is, they’ve never addressed this head on. This, being their attraction to one another, attraction isn’t even the right word for it, he thinks. Because it’s far more than that.

They’re gravitated to each other, from the second their eyes met, something has changed inside him. Something that makes his smiles and laughter come much more often and easily.

But he’s scared.

What if he admits to the love that he knows is there, only to have it not become able to hold onto because of their distance?

What if he loses this? The thing he looks forward too all the time. The only thing he has to look forward to?

Swallowing the stone in his throat, he writes honestly.

I’m scared.

Tucking it under the trunk, he knows he’s going to be unable to focus on anything until he’s able to read the blocky handwriting of Blaine again.

(Inches away from you, scared what I'll take from you, darling)


Kurt figures that Blaine feels the same way, if he didn’t even question as to what Kurt was scared about. But he doesn’t know what to think of his latest message.

He rereads it over a few times.


And the decides it for him. Pressing the letter to his chest, he closes his eyes and stands up.

When he finds his father, before he’s even able to open his mouth, his dad speaks first.

“I know.”

Kurt smiles at him, willing himself not to cry, his dad presses him closer, hugging him so tightly that the breath is removed from his lungs, but he doesn’t say or do anything but hug back, whispering that it won’t be forever.

With one last kiss to his forehead, Kurt makes his way back to the tree, unable to keep still he instead circles the plant several times until he dizzies himself and has to stop.

Over the horizon he can see the light of day crossing over. He fills his lungs with all the air he can possibly hold in them, hoping that somehow all the air could transform into courage.

He can see a lone figure at the very edge of the light, coming closer until there’s the obvious line between day and night.


“Hi,” His voice is deep and smooth and everything Kurt had only wished for. Up close he can see the slight difference in height between them, he can't bring himself to mind it.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that he has yet to say anything. “Hello,” He looks down and sees Blaine hold his hand out, only the tips of his fingers touching the last of night.


He twines his fingers with Blaine’s warm ones, a feeling that reminds him of lightning in the distance of stormy nights shoots through his body.
With the last bit of courage he holds, he leans over and presses their lips together, the feeling intensifies and sends a warm tingle down his spine. When they pull away, his arms have somehow found themselves around Blaine’s neck, and Blaine’s strong, solid, warm arms around his waist.

Their foreheads press together and the feeling has yet to go away, Kurt doesn‘t mind one bit.

(Never you mind where the evening should find us, together)

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you too.”

He sees Blaine’s grin and closes his eyes as they press every limb as close to they can against each other, heat spreading everywhere, lips joining once again and for the first time, Kurt feels whole.

Above them, the skies paint into vivid colors never seen before. Day and night combining for the first time as purples and oranges paint the clouds and surroundings in a breathtaking picture of evening.

But all Kurt can see is Blaine. And he’s he thinks, that‘s more than enough.

(Darkness to light, moved from day into night to be near you)



Hope you liked this goop. I don't think it's all that good, but then again, I never do. c:

magically appear and disappear 1/?

Media: Fic
Title: magically appear and disappear 1/?
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers (if any): Non.
Warnings (if any): Super-powered!Kurt, mentions of death, weirdness.
Word Count: 1020
Summary: The universe, he decides, hates Kurt Hummel.

Kurt is kind of freaking out.

Understatement of his life.

Because, yeah, he is totally freaking out right now. Seeing yourself fading away does that to a person.

And no, he doesn’t mean it in the poetic way where he’s being repressed by a sea of navy and crimson blazers and stuffy personalities.
He means literally fading. Like, honest to the non-existent God who likes to make his life more and more complicated- fading.

With anxious eyes he looks down at his hand and hopes hopes hopes with all the hope in his heart that he’ll look down and see his hand there and his life will be back to normal.

But life is having none of that.

He looks down and his hand has gone completely transparent. A pathetic squeak tears itself from his throat because he can still feel it there, he curls his fingers to convince himself of that, but he can see straight through it.

Wait--wasn’t his foot there a second ago?

Aw crap.


It all started about a week ago, when Kurt would glance at his fingers or toes that were not there for some reason, but usually he’d do a double take and hey, there they were. When they wouldn’t come back he’d just play it off as a trick of the mind, and sure enough they’d reappear after a few minutes.

But if you really want to get into it, it’s started way before that. Not the whole ‘disappearing act’ think, but hints that Kurt Hummel will never get to live a normal fabulous life.

He remembers his mom vividly, everything about her features, the roundness of her cheeks, wide dark eyes that were always surrounded by thick lashes, pale complexion and the way a type of worry was always sketched onto her features.

Being a child back then, he just assumed it had to do with being a mom. But now, looking back on it he remembers the way she’d be on the other side of the room and the next second she’d be nowhere to be seen. Sometimes she’d be gone for an hour and come back through the front door with no explanation.

His dad would never question it but he’d always look so worried when she wasn’t there, he‘d pace the house until she came walking back through the door.

Over time, it happened less frequently and less far away, she’d only all-of-a-sudden be in the other side of the house rather than who knows where.

He remembers the look of pain she’d get on her face from time to time, like she was willing herself to not poof away from him.

He remembers--even though he really wishes he didn’t--the day she died. The way she died.

They were all out in the front yard, his family. Playing tea-party, his dad forced by the other two to wear a sunhat with lots of flowers, his mom in a flowing white sundress.

One second she was sitting in the small chair, pouring fake tea into her glass, the next there’s a sound of screeching tires, a bloodcurdling scream and an empty seat.

He remembers the way the driver protested that she came out of nowhere.

And even though Kurt screamed at the man until his throat was hoarse, his dad never pressed charges. *


While pacing in his room, he makes up his mind and pulls his phone out of his pocket as an undignified yelp leaves his lips when he notices that his other hand isn’t there anymore either.

After a few deep breaths he’s able to keep his shaking to a minimum and dials his dad’s number with translucent fingers. And yeah, he doesn’t think he’s going to get used to that anytime soon.

The dial tone makes him more anxious until he hears the click of someone answering and stops breathing for a few seconds.

“Hey kiddo,” And his dad sounds happy to hear from him and he really wishes that he didn’t have to tell his dad that he’s somehow acquired the ability to be as transparent as Finn’s songs choices. (He has to mentally give himself a pat-on-the-back for not losing his sass.)

“Um, hey dad, listen,” Going over a way to bring this up and finding none he settled for rambling. “I don’t know how to say this so I’ll just go ahead and blurt it out there, I think I’m some kind of superhero or something and wow--that is not at all what I meant to say, but I can’t really explain it over the phone and holy hell where did my knee go?!”

As he’s busy hyperventilating over the ongoing disappearance of his limbs he hears the steady voice of his father assuring him that, “I’ll be right there.” And Kurt wonders if his dad has at all planned for this, because any normal parent would have probably thought their kid was going insane if they talked like that.

But then again, Burt Hummel was never like any other parent.

There’s a tone at the end of his phone that tells him he’s alone again. With shaking legs he settles back down on his bed, thankful for the fact that he hasn’t got a roommate. His eyes shut and all he sees is the comforting blackness that keeps him from noticing what else night not be there anymore.

His throat feels all kinds of dry as he attempts to swallow the growing lump that’s stuck there.

He hopes that when he opens his eyes that this will all be some kind of weird dream and his body will be entirely visible again.

When he awakes from a sleep he hadn’t known he’d fallen into he sits up and with sleepy eyes he makes out that he has gone completely invisible. With see-through hands he pats down his body that is very much still there but somehow not, and yup. He’s totally transparent.


The universe, he decides, hates Kurt Hummel.


A/N; *I don't know if I made it clear enough, but Kurt's mom didn;t have the power of disappearing, she teleported, but like Kurt right now, she couldn't control it very well. Welp.

A White Blank Page

Title: Make It Work
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers (if any): WIGYA spoiler, along with some from the upcoming SLS episode.
Warnings (if any): Kind-of-bitchy!Kurt.
Word Count: 2308
Summary: “That’s when Mercedes knows; shit just got real.
A/N: So. I kind of took out some anger on Blaine. So. (Song reference is "White Blank Page" by Mumford & Sons. Glee/song isn't mine.)


When Mercedes first answers her phone, she’s delighted to see Kurt’s daily call came about a few hours earlier than she expected, considering it‘s Valentines Day (read: Single Awareness Day) and she presumed her boy would be far too busy being sparkly and in love with Blaine.

But when she hears his voice, which could only really be described as distraught with a twinge of anger, her stomach started to churn, before she could ask what’s wrong Kurt starts speaking again.

“Make sure to stock up on ice-cream, kay? Yes, I know what the carbs will do to my hips, but I need the comfort of fatty food right now ‘Cedes.” That’s when Mercedes knows; shit just got real.


No less than an hour and half later she found herself bundled up next to Kurt, Rachel on his other side. She always figured they liked each other more than they let on, and as long as Rachel didn’t turn all mega-diva-bitch on them right now, she could deal.

(She will refuse up and down that she did not feel any sort of guilt blossom in her chest at the look of unmasked surprise on Rachel’s face when Kurt invited her to their ‘girls night’. Because she didn’t. Really.)

The small quilt was laid out delicately along their knees and thighs, careful of the fresh coat of paint on their toenails. The three of them cuddled together, sharing a box of tissues as the images of An Affair to Remember passes through the television.

When the film ends and they all have red-rimmed eyes and finish sniffling into the tissues, Mercedes switches her position to stare at Kurt, who was busy dabbing his tears away while refusing to meet her eyes.

“All right boy, what happened?” She finally asks, she can see Rachel’s head perk back up as she scrambles to look at Kurt with a curious impression.

“I, too am curious as to what made you want to do all,” She pauses, and Mercedes can see the way she’s carefully trying to choose the right word. She silently applauds Rachel’s new consideration. “This. I for one, only watch tear-jerking romance movies, eat unhealthy food and sing ballads about lost love if I am craving comfort for something. Or having a really bad day.”

And yeah, Mercedes thinks she has a good idea what’s wrong. If Kurt choosing too sing ‘Gave you all I had, and you tossed it in the trash,‘ for their karaoke session was any indication.

He was never really good at being subtle.

“And don’t say ‘nothing’, cause we all know that’s a load of bull,” The plump girl threatened, pointing her nail-filer at Kurt’s direction.

After a few seconds of silence, the end-credits slowly fading into a finish, Kurt mumbled out a soft; “Love. Is the problem. It seriously sucks sometimes. No-- more like all the time. For me anyways,”

She can feel a fraction of her heart melt, because, yeah she’s been there. But she knows that Kurt; wonderful, awesome, totally amazing Kurt, will wear his heart on his sleeves for someone he loves and when he does that, most of the time he ends up getting hurt.

Across from her, she sees Rachel wearing a similar expression and takes his hand, Mercedes follows her lead and clasps Kurt’s free hand in her own.

“Oh baby, who has you so down?” She’s fairly certain that the cause of his sorrow is pretty simple; boy troubles.

She follows Kurt’s eyes that flicker down before meeting Rachel’s then hers.

“Blaine,” Was his silent murmur, and oh hell to the no. Was she seriously going to have to cut a curly-haired bitch for breaking her boy’s heart?

She took a few breaths, reminding herself to not be irrational, Rachel opened her mouth and she about half-expected her to say something that would make Mercedes want to shove her fist in her mouth, but instead she asked a quiet, “What did he do?”

And then Kurt told them the story; how Blaine recruited the Warblers to serenade some guy who worked at GAP with “horrendous unmanageable hair that looked like it would eat your hand if you ran your fingers though it”, how Kurt had gotten his hopes up (again), only to have his feelings unreturned. (Again.)

By the end of it, Mercedes felt the urge to tie Blaine down onto a chair and shave all his hair off, along with his eyebrows.

When Kurt started again, he said something along the lines of; “How can I win him back?” And before Mercedes could smack some (tough-love) sense into him, Rachel cut in.

“What do you mean? Kurt, you shouldn’t have to do anything, and I speak from experience that often, if you try too hard you will get nowhere with Finn--him. This, uh, Blaine fellow.”

“As much as I hate to agree with her, Rachel’s right,” She couldn’t help the playful smirk that she shot to Rachel, who seemed to recognize the fact that Mercedes was joking and lit up. “If anything, Blaine is the one who will have to do the winning back, not you.”

A moment of silence passed again before Kurt pursed his lips in thought. “You think so?”

Then her and Rachel looked at each other, nodded and said in unison; “We know so.” Which was kind of creepy, but also pretty awesome.

“Kurt, listen to me white-boy, you have to make him want you back, make him get on his knees and beg for you to take his sorry ass back. Make him work for it.”

“Mercedes has a point. This calls for an afternoon of planning revenge, yes?”

Kurt laughed, and Mercedes felt some of the weight from her heart lift at the sound. “Sounds like a plan ladies. Let me just get my Carrie DVD. This seems like it’d be a perfectly suitable situation for us to watch it.”


(You desired my attention but denied my affections, my affections)

Blaine knew something was off the next time he saw Kurt. He grinned and was ready to blab about how he was able to get Sebastian’s number after approaching him without bursting out into song, but Kurt just gave him a tight-lipped smile and nod and made his way down the hall.

At first, he shrugs it off. Maybe Kurt just had to be somewhere. It’s not like he’d purposely avoid Blaine or something.



A small knot in his stomach starts to ache the next time he sees Kurt, talking to some guy. (He’s not sure, but he thinks his name is Flint or something stupid like that.)

Then he stops, because that’s not very nice. And also, he has yet to call Sebastian, which he should really get around to doing.

But then Kurt places his hand on that guy’s arm and laughs, light and free. And the knot grows tighter for some reason.

He shouldn’t care about Kurt getting friendly with someone else. He shouldn’t.

He doesn’t.

(Despite what Wes and David’s knowing stares tell him, he really doesn’t.)


Okay, now it’s just not fair.

Because, seriously. Pants that tight should not be allowed. Much less on Kurt who’s legs look endless in them.

He has to do a double-take when he sees Kurt strutting to his class in them, similar reactions drawing from a good amount of the other boys. The knot curls tighter and suddenly it gets harder to breath.

He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want random guys perving after Kurt. After all, Kurt isn’t ready for something of that nature to be around him.

(But the way his hips sway when he walks makes it hard for Blaine to really think of anything. Especially the semi-forgotten number that’s stuffed in his pocket.)


The churning in his stomach doubles when he sees that Flint guy talking to Kurt. If you could really call what they’re doing talking. More like shameless flirting. And eye-sexing. And hey, the only one allowed to do that is Blaine!



He comes across the two again, Flint leaning down like he was going to kiss the smaller boy.

And Kurt wasn’t going to pull away.


His body is moving of it’s own accord as he power -walks over to the duo, a fake grin plastered to his face and a cheerful “Hey guys!” leaving his lips. He instead chooses to not question why he felt a sense of accomplishment at the way Flint propelled himself back.

“Blaine,” Kurt drawled out, looking at him with that unimpressed stare he’s only seen the countertenor give others. “Do you need something?”

“Um,” And really, Blaine probably should have thought this out better. It takes him a couple of beats (a couple of painfully awkward beats) to come up with a lie. “I was wondering if maybe you’d be up to a rehearsal, one’s today you know.”

“I am well aware of that, yes,” The brunet muttered, looking down at his perfect nails with a critical stare. “But I thought that it wasn’t for another hour.” And Blaine really doesn’t want to think about how far Kurt would have let Flint go in an hour.

“Well, Wes thought it’d be better if we practiced now. An hour early. You know how he can get,” Blaine urged Kurt to please laugh. Laugh like he used to do with him, without any regards to what was happening.

To look at Blaine like he was the only thing in the room.

But he didn’t.

All Kurt did was sigh under his breath and politely excuse himself from Flint, and walked over to the music room.

Blaine stood there for a few more seconds, watching Kurt become smaller and smaller as he made his way down the hall. The unpleasant feeling in his stomach intensified and suddenly he felt really thirsty.


After he was able to convince Wes to call all the Warblers in an hour earlier so Kurt wouldn’t catch on to his lie, he still couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand.

Why did Kurt being interested in someone bother him so much?

It was a good thing, right?



The side-glances he got from a few of the Warblers (including Kurt, but his stare was different from the usual one, the one where his face would light up and his eyes would gloss over, he really missed that stare.) told him that he wasn’t to par with his usual performances.

Even he had to admit, it was pretty pathetic.

He had never been so glad to have rehearsals come to an end.


It was clear now, to Blaine. What he had to do.

After listening to his most depressing play list, he made up his mind.

He’s going to ask Kurt out. Like, out, out.



No?“ Blaine repeated, not sure he heard it right. It wasn’t that he was insulted. But wasn’t this supposed to be what made things better?

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.

“Yes, no,” Kurt continued, giving Blaine an unwavering stare, the bright colors piercing through Blaine. “I don’t want to be a second choice, Blaine.”

Second? “Why would you think..”

“Because, oh I don’t know, not even a whole day ago, you serenaded some dude from GAP, flirted shamelessly with him in front of me and the entire store, really Blaine? So not smooth.”

The number in his pocket begged to differ, not that he’d say so because now is so not the time.
“That’s different!” He exclaimed, because this could not be happening. Kurt was supposed to say yes and leap into his arms and they would be together.


“Maybe it is,” Kurt started, sweeping his bangs away from his eyes, a frown forming on his lips. “But I stand by my no. And before you go storming off let me tell you why; I am tired of always being the one chasing, doing all the work to get someone only to have it blow up in my face. Is it so wrong to want to be the one chased? The one who doesn’t get the short end of the stick?

I waited for you Blaine, I did. And you didn’t care until you saw me in the arms of another boy. For the record, me and Flint aren’t anything serious. But if he proves himself to be more of a man than you, I will have to take him up on his offer.”

Since when was there an offer, he wants to ask, but his voice fails him. He’s frozen on the spot, letting Kurt’s words wash over him, burning him with the brutal truth, leaving him bare.

“So, you can either go into the arms of GAP-boy and leave me be,” Blaine couldn’t help the breath he sucked in. Had Kurt really possessed him so that he completely forgot of the other boy he sang in public to? (Yes.) “Or you can do the chasing this time.”

By the end, Blaine had pulled enough courage to look back into Kurt’s eyes. The knot in his stomach loosened because Kurt’s eyes weren’t as hard and cold anymore. They were growing warmer. Inviting.

Kurt held his stare a while longer before softly walking away, leaving Blaine to his thoughts.

Blaine wasn’t going to miss his invitation this time.


“Hey Wes, how long do you think it’d take to teach the Warblers a new song? I was thinking something along the lines of Sir Paul. McCartney, yes. Do you think we could have it done before Valentines Day ends? Awesome.

Jan. 13th, 2011

So, wrote something that is kind of completely inspired by this song that I love very, very much.

I even prompted it before. And now I wrote something for it.

But it was fun. c:
I don't know if this is angsty or not but... I think this is about as close as I get.

Hope you like it. <3

Title: Only Way To Feel Alive
Author: unworthiesthand (Me)
Pairing: Blaine/Kurt
Word Count: 1604
Rating: Light NC-17
Spoilers: Blaine is alive and Kurt wants him. Bad.
Summary: "The thought makes him want to scream--that he’s a nobody, he’s invisible, unimportant."


(I'm at my best when I'm at my worst
I'm at my worst when it's not rehearsed
I don't want to know the goddamn words
I don't want to have to spell it out
Don't want to mumble what I'm trying to say
I want to scream it from my foaming mouth

Kurt hates it.

He knows that ‘hate’ is a strong word--but there’s no other word that fits how he feels at Dalton. It’s not even Dalton that he hates. He rather enjoys the fact that he can walk the halls without worrying if there’s a slushie facial waiting for him around the corner and the guys are friendly.

What he does hate, is the way he feels when he’s here.

It’s suffocating him.
It’s trying to change who he is.
It’s robotic.
It’s stifling.
It’s killing him.

He has no outlet here, the music room is only to be used for Warbler rehearsals and pretty much nothing else. There’s no way for him to sing, really sing, like he used to. Sing without worrying if it’s ‘too much’. Sing as a type of therapy that would lift this heavy feeling from his chest. Sing until his throat was bare.

With the Warblers he has to fade into the background. Has to. He’s not the soloist, he doesn’t get to stand out in the slightest. He has to force his voice to blend in with them in a way where he‘s not able to be heard.

He doesn’t get to be Kurt Hummel.

With them he’s just another voice in the crowd.

The thought makes him want to scream--that he’s a nobody, he’s invisible, unimportant.

He wants to, but he can’t.
It wouldn’t be good for the teams image.
(He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to ‘take one for the team’.)

And then there’s Blaine.
Wonderful, proper (perfect) Blaine.
Blaine who fit’s the perfect Warbler mold, who isn’t the warm, comforting Blaine he met that shared the same affinity for Vouge that he did.
Perfect Blaine makes him feel this burning in his chest.

This isn’t you, he wants to say. But the words always get stuck in his throat.

Because this; this quiet, agreeable, dull person he’s forming into isn’t him either.

He doesn’t remember the chain of events that led to this.
To Blaine hovering over him, their bodies slick with sweat and the filth of their acts, chests heaving and bodies clashing together in a frenzy of heat and oh--passion.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, really. They don’t talk about it in the halls or anywhere. It’d be improper of them.

But they revel in it when they’re alone in each others room, naked and feeding off of each others touch.

With Blaine’s body over his, he digs his nails into the heated skin of Blaine’s back and rakes his nail down, knowing that there’s going to be red stripes there for a few days.
In retaliation, the boy over him lets out a deep, throaty groan and sinks his teeth into the crook of Kurt’s neck, and Kurt screams and the pace of their thrusting doubles.

The loud noises bounce off the walls of his bedroom. And Kurt screams again, because he can. Because it’s this, this combination of heat and the feeling of letting go that he finds a way to get the weight off of his chest.

It’s not the best outlet, he knows this. But it’s what he can get away with. It’s exactly what he needs. He needs something to lash out at, to be able to scream and cry out until his throat burns, to free the feelings of shame, anger and disappointment, if only for those moments.

Their sex is always the same, loud, needy and animalistic.

They let their bodies do all the talking for them. Because sometimes words cannot do what they can. Words can hurt and not make sense or get across what he so badly wants them too. Bodies are honest, they don’t lie and know what they want and need.

He knows eventually, the sex won’t be enough for him to feel content about everything that’s wrong here.
But he doesn’t want to think about that now.

Right now, he doesn’t even want to think. He just wants to revel in this cocoon of heat and keep their bodies going until they’re exhausted and worn out and wonderful.
Until the weight of the day is temporarily gone and they meet again to be one another’s outlet.
He tells his mind to please, shut up, and puts all of his efforts into marking every patch of skin on Blaine’s body.

(I'm in my worst when I'm at my best
I'm at my best when I'm trying to look and think and talk
And sing and read and write like all the rest
We're all just trying to play our roles
In a play that runs ad nauseum
I hate this damn enlightenment

Blaine hates it.

He’s not one to use words like ‘hate’ very often, but in this case, it’s very much true.

He hates being this.
This perfect image of what Dalton boys should be and look up to. Normally, this would be some kind of great honor for someone.
Not fair Blaine. It’s awful because as soon as he took on that role he couldn’t undo it. He couldn’t go back to being the old imperfect Blaine. The real Blaine.

Now, he has to keep from doing things that he genuinely wants to do.
He wants to be by Kurt’s side, out in the open and hold his hand and whisper sweet things into his ear as they walk to class. But he can’t.
He can’t because there aren’t supposed to, and Blaine never does what he’s not supposed to.

It’d be imperfect of him.

He has to be perfect.
He has to follow the rules.
He has to set the example.
He has to be selfless.
He has to put the team first.
He has to be a leader.

All the expectations set on his shoulders are almost too much. But he never says no to them. It’s not what he’s expected to do.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t eat away at him anyways.
His thoughts keep him up at night, staring up at the ceiling of at Kurt’s sleeping face nestled against his shoulder or chest.
Thoughts of how he’s going to keep pulling this off for another year--maybe even his whole life. That particular thought makes his stomach churn, that he’d have to keep up this charade of perfection for his entire life.

He doesn’t want that. But he knows that he’s already been broken down by this place to where he will, if he has to. Because it keeps him safe. Because he doesn’t have the courage he preaches Kurt to have. Because he’s a coward.

But how can a coward be perfect? He wonders if everyone who’s perfect is actually as big a coward as him. Someone who just got too used to the role and can’t break away from it anymore.

He pushes those thoughts to the back of his head, as far back as they’ll go so they don’t bother him during the day.

Right now, he’s not worried about thinking too much. He’s more concentrated on Kurt’s body writhing and flushed under his.

When he tries to remember how they even started this whole thing, he only remembers flashes of bare skin and a blur of heated words and bodies.

It doesn’t matter now, not when he feels manicured nails break the skin on his back. A hiss leaves his lips at first before breaking down into a groan.
He loves this--it’s an odd type of wonderful. Having sex that hurts and should put him off, but doesn’t.
Because it makes him feel. Honestly feel, like he hasn’t in a very long time.

Kurt, wonderful, beautiful, with perfect imperfections.
He feels some of that weight lift off of him when he’s around, because he knows. He knows that Blaine isn’t really perfect. That the Blaine at Dalton isn’t the real him.
He doesn’t say it, but he sees it in those gorgeous multicolored eyes.

His lips trail along the pale skin of Kurt’s neck as their bodies continue to grind off of each other, naked and sweating and so, so hot. He sinks his teeth into the skin, marking the skin with his teeth-mark and feeling a full-body shudder run through both of their bodies when he hears Kurt scream.

It’s intoxicating.
The sounds that they both make, sound of skin slapping skin and Kurt’s voice mixing with his own as they dive deeper into pleasure.

He knows that this--whatever ‘this’ is--won’t last forever.
He wants it to. So badly.

But he’s not stupid. He knows what Dalton is doing to Kurt. He knows what it’s done to him. He doesn’t want the same thing happening to the boy under him. He wants him to keep that spark in his eye.

Kurt’s going to leave, eventually. Either that or they’re going to find another way of releasing all their negative feelings instead of just using their bodies.

But for now, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t even want to think.

Why think when his body can get across what he want it to, because it doesn’t lie. It doesn’t have to pretend to be perfect.

Because it’s only Kurt who sees this side of him and doesn’t judge him.

And he;s going to try and hold on to this as long as he can.

Another Kurt/Blaine Fanmix

I needed some distractions, so obviously what I had to do was obvious; another fanmix.

Again, one of my guilty pleasures.

I Can't Fight Back (Even In My Dreams) [A Kurt/Blaine Fanmix Part II]

1. {Carjack My Heart by Dance Movie}

"as it stands you tip your hat
when i walk past and curtsey back
no one who knows us both would ever guess
what could be next
we are relentless

and you could be my seth cohen
and i could be your lorelai
someday soon these two fantasies could meet
the rust of conceit
would taste so sweet

2. (I've Got All this Ringing In My Ears And None on My Fingers by Fall Out Boy)

"You’re a canary, I’m a coal mine
Cause sorrow is just all the rage
Take one for the team
You all know what I mean

And I’m so sorry, but not really
Tell the boys where to find my body
New York eyes, Chicago thighs
Pushed up the window to kiss you off

3. [Blindsided by Bon Iver]

"Taught line... down to the shoreline
The end of a blood line... the moon is a cold light

There's a pull to the flow
My feet melt the snow
For the irony, i'd rather know
'Cause blinded I was blindsided

4. {Awake My Soul by Mumford & Sons}

"How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes
I struggle to find any truth in your lies
And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know
This weakness I feel I must finally show

Lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all
But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall
Lend me your eyes I can change what you see
But your soul you must keep, totally free

5. (Pale Blue Eyes by The Velvet Underground)

"Sometimes I feel so happy,
But mostly you just make me mad.
Baby, you just make me mad.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.

Thought of you as my mountain top,
Thought of you as my peak.
Thought of you as everything,
I've had but couldn't keep

6. [Never Gonna Leave This Bed by Maroon 5]

"Wake you up
In the middle of the night to say
I will never walk away again
I'm never gonna leave this bed, oh

So come here
And never leave this place
Perfection of your face
Slows me down, slows me down

7. {Help! by The Beatles}

"Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being 'round.
Help me get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me?

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways,
My independence seems to vanish in the haze.
But every now and then I feel so insecure,
I know that I just need you like, I've never done before.

8. (Daydreamer by Adele)

"A jaw dropper
Looks good when he walks, he is the subject of their talk
He would be hard to chase
But good to catch, and he could change the world
With his hands behind his back, oh

You can find him sitting on your doorstep
Waiting for a surprise
And he will feel like he's been there for hours
And you can tell that he'll be there for life

9. [Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow by Amy Winehouse]

"Is this a lasting treasure
Or just a moment's pleasure?
Can I believe the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?

Tonight with words unspoken
And you say that I'm the only one, the only one, yeah
But will my heart be broken
When the night meets the morning star?

10. {I'm Into Something Good by The Bird and The Bee}

"He's the kind of boy who's not too shy
And I cant help but tell him he's my guy
He danced close to me like I hoped he would
Something tells me I'm into something good

We only danced for a minute or two
But then be stuck close to me the whole night through
Can I be falling in love
He's everything I've been dreaming of

11. (I See The Light from Tangled)

"And at last I see the light
And it's like the fog has lifted
And at last I see the light
And it's like the sky is new
And it's warm and real and bright
And the world has somehow shifted
All at once everything looks different
Now that I see you

12. [The First Day Of My Life by Bright Eyes)

"Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
I don't know where I am
I don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go
So I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever
I especially am slow
But I realized that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home

I remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange
You said everything changed
You felt as if you just woke up
And you said,
This is the first day of my life,
I'm Glad I didn't die before I met you

13. {Grace Under Pressure by Elbow}

"Grace under pressure
Cooling palm across my brow
Eyes of an angel
Lay me down
We still believe in love so fuck you

14. (Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap)

"A moment, a love
A dream aloud
A kiss, a cry
Our rights, our wrongs
A moment, a love
A dream aloud
A moment, a love
A dream aloud

So stay there
Because I'll be coming over
And while our blood's still young
It's so young
It runs
And we won't stop until it's over
Won't stop to surrender

15. [I Hate Seagulls by Kate Nash]

"I hate all the mistakes I make
I hate rude ignorant bastards
And I hate snobbery
I hate anyone who if I was serving chips wouldn't talk to me
I have a friend
With whom I like to spend
Any time I can find with
I like sleeping in your bed
I like knowing what is going on inside your head
I like taking time and I like your mind
And I like when your hand is in mine

I hope my song selections were fitting and you guys like it.
I enjoy pimping out the music that I like.

Follow the link to download the mix!
I think there’s a lot more porn in here than last time.
(It’s not my fault-- it’s pretty fun to write. Stop judging me.)

These prompts were bundles of fun.

Now what will I do with my time? Le sigh.

Title; (Singing and Sexing, and Crack-Cocaine) These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things
Author; unworthiesthand
Rating; PG to NC-17
Word count; Not-really-sure
Spoilers; Not really. Blaine exists and Kurt wants in his pants, I guess.

Song Prompt; Fic based on these lyrics, Blaine to Kurt.

You are strong but you're needy, humble but you're greedy
Based on your body language and shorty cursive I've been reading
You're style is quite selective but your mind is rather reckless
Well, I guess it just suggests that this is just what happiness is

Ugh, I love Jason Mraz. <3

Blaine has never meet a person like Kurt Hummel before, he's like a wonderfully complex puzzle; he thinks he has it figured out but there's always a surprise that throws him off.

Like how he was so fragile when they met; only to show later that he refuses to ask for help. How he seemed so quiet and humble--yet Blaine watches him with an air of absolute confidence around him. And how he tries to seem like he's making logical choices, but it's obvious to Blaine that he's letting his emotions get the better of him.

Yes, Kurt Hummel is contradicting to many of the things people think he is. But Blaine is happy to be the one figuring out all the sides to who he is. He really wouldn't have it any other way.

Kurt didn't text Blaine back.…

"Did you get my text?" Blaine had an uncanny ability to suddenly find and appear next to Kurt, who chose not to question it.

He responded with an exasperated nod, a blush expanding on his cheeks.

Blaine had the nerve to pout at the slightly-taller boy. "Well, you didn't text me back."

Kurt turned on his heel, facing Blaine and pointing an accusing finger at him. "I hardly think sending me a picture of your penis qualifies me to reply. You got my phone taken from me, just be glad Mr. Roberts didn't get to see it, you you--" He couldn't finish his sentence and settled on huffing at his fool of a boyfriend.

After a few seconds of silence Blaine replied with; "Why'd you have to say 'penis'? That's like, one of the unsexiest names for dick."

Kurt groaned and began pulling Blaine by his tie, practically stomping over to his room. "You're not as smooth as I first thought you were."

"But you still love me. And want to have sex with me. I think I win this one."

The countertenor rolled his eyes in amusement before shoving Blaine into his room, kicking the door shut before running his finger down the clothed chest. "Shut up and take off your pants."

Blaine sees one Ke$ha's videos for the first time. He hates it. He watches it a second time. It's even worse. And then he watches it a third and fourth and he lost count amount of times. He has now acquired one guilty please.

prompt: Blaine as a Ke$ha-fan.

One of the things Kurt had not expected when he entered Blaine's room was the older boy belting out 'I just can't get you off my mind, because your love your love your love, is my drug
Your love your love your--'

He singing abruptly stopped when his eyes caught hold of Kurt, who was debating on whether the sight was hilarious or disappointing. The younger of the two had been okay with Blaine's obsession with Katy Perry, but this was a bit too much because, seriously, "Ke$ha, Blaine. Really?"

"... I know, I have a problem." Blaine admitted, looking down, the auto-tuned music still playing in the background. "Because... your love is my drug." He finished with a sheepish grin.

Kurt rolled his eyes and gave in, shutting the door behind him so no one but Blaine would be able to see him jamming out the lyrics 'Wake up in the mornin', feeling like P. Diddy'.

Possessive Blaine

He doesn't really know how he ended up back in his room, Kurt writhing in his lap, sharp gasps and moans escaping reddened lips every time Blaine snaps his hips up.

It's all kind of a hot, mess blur. Blaine remembered seeing the way some of the Warblers looked at Kurt. (His Kurt.) After performing a song that required rather suggestive dance moves. (If you could even call singing 'I wanna take a ride on your disco-stick' suggestive.)

A small flame burned deep in his belly at the way they were unclothing Kurt with their eyes. So the only logical thing to do was to ravage him as soon as he finished, leave as many marks as he could on the pale expanse of skin. To fuck him so hard and deep that all anyone has to do is look at Kurt and know, he's off the market, know he's Blaine's.

He bites harder on the shivering shoulder with a low growl-like sound leaving his throat, erupting a cry of pleasure from the flushed boy. He wants his bite mark to be imprinted on the warm skin.
Blaine knows it can't, but it doesn't really matter. Right now, judging from how loud Kurt's being, he's certain at least half of Dalton knows Kurt's his.

Wing!Fic (or art)

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Kurt isn't really a bullied new-student. HE IS AN INTERNATIONAL JEWEL THIEF that's on a job at Dalton Academy. :D

"The golden Warbler's been stolen!"

A polite riot soon commenced. Students, teachers and staff quickly began talking and interrogating anyone and everyone.

Blaine, being part of the student committee was looking over the security tape of the crime.

His breath caught in his throat as a lithe figure appeared in the screen--wearing a skin tight bodysuit, a scarf hiding his face, with what looked like a bedazzled utility belt hung on his slim hips.

There was a silent awe that took over the room as the figure moved almost effortlessly towards the camera--was he using cheerleading moves?--and soon the camera disappeared into static.

In the end they found absolutely no evidence binding tracing anyone to the scene of the crime. Who ever did this was clearly an expert, despite the fact that the video showed that the thief had a young body.

When he told as much to the Warblers, they all started coming up with ridiculous scenarios. Kurt was the one who was the most silent, having almost a smug smile playing on his lips. Blaine chose not to question it because--seriously, Kurt couldn't have done that.

But he could have sworn that he heard Kurt humming the Mission Impossible theme song under his breath

lol, Kurt is Kim Possible.


"So, how's about we get our Brokeback on?"

"Oh my god Blaine--You are so lucky I'm horny enough to disregard what you just said otherwise you would not be getting in my pants right now."

Kurt and Blaine have dinosaur companions. Unfortunately Kurt's is a carnivore and wants to eat Blaine and his docile herbivore friend.

It was going good, beyond good actually. Kurt was parked on Blaine's lap, their tongues halfway down each others throats and hands were roaming under clothes.

A screech interrupted their precious time, Kurt groaned as Blaine pulled back, sending a worried gaze towards the window. The other boy didn't even have to say anything for Kurt to know that the moment was ruined.

With a frown he stalked over to his window, shoving his head out through the open windowpane. "Calvin!" At the sound of the countertenor's voice, the T-Rex turned his head away from the Alxasaurus, who was cowering against the corner of the house.

"What did I tell you about trying to eat Darcy?" Calvin lowered his head and walked over to Kurt, his tiny arms drooping in playful guilt. Kurt could already feel his resolve melting.

Luckily his boyfriend's voice brought him back, poking his head on Kurt's shoulder in an attempt to see his dinosaur. At the sight of the curly-haired boy, Calvin bared his teeth more, leaning closer to the window.

"Calvin," Kurt hissed, reaching his hand over to slap against the scaly nose. "No. Go back to your side of the yard and if I find you trying to eat Darcy--or Blaine again, I'm keeping you on a leash for the rest of the week. Do you understand me?" The low growl let Kurt know that Calvin understood. He didn't go back into his room until he saw the giant creature sulk to his corner, laying on his side.

"Now, where were we?" He giggled, turning back to Blaine who was still eying the window warily.

It didn't take much for Blaine's attention to be brought back to Kurt, considering the fact that he was soon on his knees, unzipping Blaine's jeans.

After they finished and were lying in a heated bundle on Kurt's mattress Blaine spoke up again.
"I think your T-Rex was giving me the 'I'm Watching You' sign. Or--uh--trying to."

lipgloss kink

The shimmer of Kurt's recently applied makes it very hard for Blaine to concentrate. On anything.

He stares at the way Kurt's mouth forms his words, the way his lips catch the light so perfectly. His own mouth tightens into a thin line when Kurt brings out his compact mirror to reapply the gloss.

Blaine swallows thickly, mind forming mental images that he should not be having right now. Things like the lip-marks Kurt would leave on his collar, neck, chest. The way there would be a glossy residue as Kurt gets down on his knees and takes Blaine's cock in his pretty plump lips.

A low groan erupts from his lips before he can stop it. Leaving him flushed, shrinking under some of the stares of the Warblers. He turns his gaze to Kurt, who puckers his lips at Blaine. And after that he has no control of his actions--he bolts out of his seat, Kurt following after with a spring in his step as Blaine shoves him in the nearest empty room he can find.

Turn into a jet, bomb the Russians, crash into the sun.

"Blaine, did you hear about the bombings to Russia?" Kurt asked, bewildered as he saw the various headlines stating the fact.

"Oh, yeah," After a moment Blaine continued, "I did that."

Kurt sputtered, looking at his boyfriend who was lounging on his bed with wide eyes. "What--How?"

"My parents had enough money to buy NASA." He stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world, not looking up from the newspaper in his hand. "And I was bored."

'Hair-related injury'.

"Oh. Oh my god."

"What, what's going--ow!"

"I think... my fingers are stuck in your hair, Blaine."


In retrospect, Blaine doesn't think he can be blamed for this--not really, anyways.

He is, after all, a hormonal teenager. Just because he's better at hiding it doesn't make it any less true. Kurt could vouch for him.

After they had sex (make love, his inner romantic corrected) for the first time, it's all he can think of. (Not that it's really different from his normal thinking pattern, but now it's just ridiculous.)

He'd be sitting there and Kurt would be doing something seemingly innocent or unimportant but Blaine's mind supplied him with the image of a naked Kurt. A naked, flushed Kurt. A naked, flushed Kurt who's begging for more.

Which, well, was nice, but made staying on task next to impossible.

Like how he was supposed to be rehearsing with Kurt. But as soon as the countertenor began playing, Blaine notices that Kurt has really nice hands. So soft and nimble but strong. He remembers the way they felt against his skin and starts that annoying feeling of want that really shouldn't be happening at the moment.

And then he stares at the lush lips form the words to the song, the hot pink tongue poking out to lick his lips along the way and something inside snaps. (He look of accomplishment in Kurt's bright eyes tells him that this was probably-most-likely planned.)

Which is how he found himself pressed up against the piano, his hands tangled in soft chestnut locks, Kurt in-between his legs, and doing abso-fucking-lutely wonderful things with his tongue. He feels his knees buckle when he feels Kurt's moan rumble around his cock.

His face goes unbearably hot when Kurt opens his eyes and looks up at him, cheeks flushed and hollowed out, he feels the base of the tongue press up and swipe against all the right places and all Kurt has to is moan again and that's it--Blaine's finished and he doesn't have the willpower to keep standing and has to rely on the sturdiness of the piano to keep him standing, well slumping.

Kurt's still on the floor, the sound of swallowing bringing Blaine back from his blissed daze, moving a hand to the flushed face, his thumb catching the stray drop of his own seed that Kurt licks up and Blaine has to will himself to not thrust his hips up.

It's a moment of comfortable silence as they take their time composing themselves after Blaine returns the favor. Kurt's the one who speaks up as he trails his fingers over the keys.
"Do you think anyone noticed us in here?" And then Blaine remembered, oh yeah, they're at school.
He just shrugs and replies "I don't think so."

Of course the new piano that's there the next day and the traumatized look Wes sends their way says otherwise.

And to the people that filled out my ridiculous prompts, merci beaucoup! <3

Seriously, all you guys. Awesome. Check ‘em out por favor.

Blaine/Kurt; Hairspray. Because it's playing on my television.

Blaine/Kurt; Smoking



From The Hips by Cursive

Right, so I ended up filling somethings out for this one-sentence fic thing (granted, a lot of them aren't one sentence but whatevs), and actually didn't hate some of them.

So, I'm posting them here.



"Hello there, I'm Frosty-" The snowman did not get to finish his sentence, considering the shrill scream and baseball bat to the head it got from Kurt. After a moment of disbelief, it was Blaine who spoke up.
"Well. I guess that's why the hat was locked away."


Kurt is the teacher. Blaine is the student.

Kurt knows it's not the smartest thing to do, being involved with a student. Hell, it's illegal.

But it's hard to care when Blaine's fucking him over his own desk, their moans echoing off the classroom walls as Kurt's begging his own student for more.

Kurt/Blaine - bad dancing

Kurt couldn't stop the laughter that was bubbling in his throat. It spilled out of his mouth and he covered his flushing face from the sight of Blaine, his boyfriend, doing the Hustle in the middle of the dance-floor.

Kurt/Blaine: double entendres.

Blaine let out a groan of disdain as Kurt led him into the McKinley bathrooms, not even bothering to ask why they were going into the girls bathroom in favor of trying to shake off some of the slushie that was dripping down his frame.

It had already gotten to his pants, he was somewhat thankful that his jacket had protected his shirt, it was one less thing he would have to borrow from someone else. Kurt had sat him down to a chair that sat in front of a sink.

"Take off you pants and jacket."

Blaine choked on his own spit, looking at Kurt with wide eyes, sputtering a "What." The countertenor's eyebrows rose, opening his mouth to ask something before his cheeks colored a deep crimson.

"OhmygodBlaine. Seriously?" He squeaked. It didn't take long for the silence to be filled with laughter.

Kurt's laughter soon died at the sight of Blaine slipping his pants off.

Prompt: Klaine, backseat sex. :D That is all.

Normally, Kurt would have to cut a bitch for getting any part of his Baby dirty.

But, considering that this is Blaine, he's letting it slide. Especially since he's too busy crying out in ecstasy from being thrusted into.

In fact, getting mad at Blaine right now seems ridiculous, seeing as Blaine keeps hitting that spot that makes him see stars and babble because it's goodsofuckinggoodohmygrilledcheesus.

If his leather car-seats getting stained are just innocent bystanders in the act of Kurt getting some, he's actually quite fine with that.

Folie a deux.

It was getting harder every passing day, having to decipher what was reality and what was a delusion.
Even more than that, it was whether it was his or Blaine's fears and monsters creeping up on them.

As long as Blaine was here, as long as he stayed, as long as they were together, he couldn't bring himself to dwell much on the fact that they just killed someone.

The mystery person was still wheezing, no longer was it a large, shadowy demon, but a young man with a knife they had plunged into his throat.

The blood had stained both of their hands, a stark contrast to pale skin.
He turned to Blaine who was not giving the dying man the slightest bit of his attention, all of it focused on Kurt who was beginning to do the same.

They closed the distance between them, engaging in a fevered kiss full of tongues, desire, want. (Love.)

The wheezing had stopped, it didn't matter to them, not really. Because to Kurt and Blaine, there was only each-other to care about, to live for. To kill each-others monsters.

"Je t'aime."


Kurt Hummel was never much of a sports person. It didn't matter to him whether it was muggle sports or not.

So why he found himself chasing after a golden snitch, was kind of a wonder to him. He didn't really have time to care though, it was so close he could almost touch it.
Almoooost there.
The roar of the crowd filled his ears as he got hold of the snitch. He hadn't even realized that he was drowning them out.
With a swift movement of his bangs he settled back on the ground, shooting the McKinley team a smug look as he left the field after Dalton was announced to be the winner.

It wasn't until he was changing his clothes, when he felt large hands trail along his spine and fevered kisses along the back of his neck, that he was reminded that this was why he decided to join Dalton's quidditch team; Blaine.

His awesome team captain and boyfriend. Who just so happened to give Kurt rewards like this when they managed to win a game. (Which, if he could say, was happening more often since he joined the team.)

So, Kurt still wasn't much of a sports person. But-- if hot,victory sex was the outcome of it, he certainly wasn't going to complain.

And for the peeps that filled out my prompts?
You guys rock.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ (Lots 'o love. ; u ; )
Check them out;
Blaine/Kurt, Batman Undies

Blaine/Kurt, tattoos and/or piercings.

Aggressive/Eager bottom!Kurt.

Creepy! Blaine/Kurt

Blaine/Kurt, sex in a bathtub

The Sketchdump That Couldn't

Crappy little doodles filled with mostly Blaine/Kurt-ness and a fairy-chick somewhere in there.

I Put A Spell On You (Because You're Mine)

Title: Because (You're Mine)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers (If any): Non, except that Blaine exists and there's some sexual tension.
Warnings (If any): Some checking-out, and making out. Not very much, but.
Word Count: 1418
Summary: "The way Kurt had locked eyes with him sent a shiver down his spine. Not in the bad way either. It was electric, like something jolting him awake."

(So, uh. Hey there. Here's another attempt at Blaine/Kurt fanfiction. <3 It was kinda of totally inspired by She & Him's cover of the song. Cause that;s totally how I imagine Kurt singing it in this. You should totes check it out to get the feel for it. Enjoy/comment?)

Because (You’re Mine)

This was a bad idea. It didn’t really start that way, honestly.

It’s started out innocent enough. Inviting Kurt out on a Saturday night with the rest of the Warblers. Usually, going out consisted of going into Westerville Town Center and crashing most of the night at some karaoke bar that didn’t care too much if they were over eighteen or not because apparently the Warblers were kind of rock stars here too.
(Blaine also figured that Kurt would agree to anything that didn’t involve studying and more importantly, let him out of his uniform.)

One of the things Blaine had admired about the countertenor was his ability to pull off any ensemble, no matter how ridiculous it might look on someone else, on Kurt it just worked. Which was why he thought going out would be good for him, he wasn’t stupid, Blaine knew how stifling Dalton could be. The way Kurt had beamed at the fact that he could dress and get to sing whatever he wanted without worrying if he would get a solo was just a bonus.

But then one thing Blaine hadn’t planned on was Kurt wearing something sexy. That was certainly not what he expected. He was dressed like-- like some kind of hybrid of a porn and rock star. Tight, dark, very snug fitting pants and shirt, complete with a leather jacket.

Which was how Blaine now found himself sitting stiffly in his seat, trying his best not to continue eyeing Kurt up and down. That, however, was getting harder and harder to do. With the way Kurt smiled broadly and cheered for each of the Warbler’s that had gone up and sauntered-not walked- up every time to get drinks.
(Oh God, those pants. Not staring was now near impossible with the way Kurt leaned over his seat. The fact that they had rips on them that let him see faint strips of pale skin was not helping at all.)

In an attempt to keep himself from thinking any thoughts that included licking any of Kurt’s skin he tried to engage in actual conversation.
“So, find any songs you’d want to sing?” He couldn’t help the raise in his eyebrows at Kurt’s expression and the small glint in his eyes at the question.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Before Blaine could even ask , there was applause for a finishing song and Kurt strutting up to the stage.

The first few cords sounded familiar to Blaine. But it wasn’t until Kurt started to sing that he recognized the song.

I put a spell on you
Because you're mine,

And wow. Wow. Because, seriously. He knew Kurt could sing, he’s heard him sing before. But this-- this was different.
On so many levels.
This was Kurt letting go of the restrictions that Dalton put on him. He wasn’t just harmonizing in the background or auditioning for a song, he was actually singing. His voice powerful, raw and soulful.
It was one of the things he didn’t get to hear often, not in the Warblers. Most of the songs were focused on skill, execution and harmony. Not belting it out like Kurt was doing. Not with actual emotion and passion.

You better stop the things you do
I ain't lyin'
No I ain't lyin’

The way Kurt had locked eyes with him sent a shiver down his spine. Not in the bad way either. It was electric, like something jolting him awake.
They’d been doing this for a while now. The careful dance they do around each other, tittering on the line of friendship and something more. (If he were completely honest he‘d admit they’ve always had something more.)
But the way they’re looking at each other, gazes smoldering, it’s like a silent confession of ‘Yes, something more please, please please’.

You know I can't stand it
You're runnin' around
You know better daddy
I can't stand it cause you put me down

His gaze flicked to the way Kurt’s lips formed the words around the mike. Throat going a little more than dry at the way Kurt continued to look at him.
There was no way he’s not going to end up doing something that will shatter the barrier they’ve maintained. Not with the way the room feels about a hundred degrees hotter, and certainly not with Kurt’s (hypnotic) gaze.

I put a spell on you
Because you're mine
You're mine

Breathing normally was beginning to get more difficult. Kurt’s small hip movements as he continued to belt out the song was not helping matters. At all.
Watching Kurt perform was always a type of spectacle. He’d have to do it much more often. Especially if it was always this amazing, moving, awesome (hypnotic). Which he figured, probably was.

I love ya
I love you
I love you
I love you anyhow

If he hadn’t been paying such close attention to the brunette he would’ve missed the way Kurt’s cheeks pinkened slightly under the cheap spotlights of the bar. Not that he could really blame him, with how they still hadn’t looked away from each other.
He could vaguely make out the amused faces of a few of the Warblers. Only vaguely.

And I don't care
if you don't want me
I'm yours right now

It was taking a lot out of Blaine to not launch himself at Kurt right now. His hands curled into fists against the seat of his chair at the way Kurt was sounding. His perfect (hypnotic) voice doing funny things to Blaine’s stomach.

You hear me
I put a spell on you
Because you're mine.

The applause was what made Blaine realize that, hey, there were other people in the room. Slowly, he began to clap, gaze never faltering from Kurt’s face who was now making his way off the stage.
He could still feel the electricity coursing through his veins, the feeling only intensifying when Kurt took the seat next to him and their arms made contact.
Their gazes were locked on one another’s again, Blaine feeling spell-bound by the (hypnotic) wide, blue-green-gray eyes. Subconsciously, his tongue stuck out to lick his own lips, gaze flickering to the other’s plump lips. The desire to kiss, nip, claim them was almost overwhelming.

It was almost like Kurt had psychic powers because in almost no time at all he was up, saying he needed some air and giving Blaine one of the most suggestive looks he’s ever seen and Blaine had absolutely no control over his body as he got up and followed the taller boy out the back door of the bar.

“So.” Kurt was the first to speak, his voice sounded a little breathless, elegant fingers drumming against the inside of his arm. Blaine swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, daring to step closer into Kurt’s personal space. He could smell the scent wafting from Kurt, it was nice, like some kind of pricey cologne mixed with soap, it wasn’t much but it was enough to make his pulse pound louder in his ears.

He didn’t realize that he was just standing there breathing Kurt in until the younger boy clucked his tongue in impatience and frustration, looking at him through long lashes with his (hypnotic) eyes. “Are you going to kiss me or what?” His voice just as fiery (hypnotic) as his gaze.

And that was all it took. Blaine found himself pressing Kurt up against the brick wall of the bar, hands gripping at narrow hips and lips latching on to each other, kissing with such intensity that if someone asked what Blaine’s name was, he wouldn’t be able to answer because right now, he was pretty certain that none of the blood his heart was rapidly pumping was going to his brain of all things.

The sound of Kurt’s quiet, breathy moans and feel of fingers digging into the material of his shirt, hips rutting against his with so much need, it sent his head reeling. It wasn’t long before things got even more heated, his teeth latching onto the pale expanse of skin on Kurt’s neck, making sure that there would be proof tomorrow. It was immature, but Blaine wanted a type of brand on Kurt, his mind filled with thoughts of ‘mine, mine, mine‘.

He was slowly losing himself in Kurt, in his scent, feel, touch, voice, everything about him. It was intoxicating. (Hypnotic.)

Blaine, was certain that he was under Kurt Hummel’s spell.

Ten Things I Don't-Really-Hate About You

 (Totally jumping on the bandwagon here. Can't help it, I love  writing based on songs. And uh, don't know if these could be considered 'drabbles', they're kinda... long. I guess? Enjoy? Please forgive if they suck too hard.)

Video Phone (Extended Remix Feat. Lady Gaga) by Beyonce
(What a wonderful song to start with.)

It was all Beyonce's fault. (That diva siren.)

That song that planted the idea in the first place. The beat to the song echoing off the bedroom walls along with the heavy breathing and moans from the two inhabitants.

Kurt nestled himself on Blaine's lap, both tearing the other's clothing off in a frantic lust.
"God, I fucking missed you," Blaine growled as he released Kurt's bottom lip from his teeth. To which, Kurt responded with a breathy "Me too baby," as he rolled his hips down, the electricity from the friction shooting through both of their veins.

Nimble fingers threaded through dark locks as Kurt tilted down to crash their lips together, arching his back when he felt Blaine's hips grind up into his, pants now thrown somewhere in the opposite side of the room.

In a matter of minutes they were completely naked. The moaning almost overshadowing the volume of the stereo as their actions escalated and their bodies were moving in sync.

"I wish," Blaine started, his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, a moan drawing from his throat as the boy in his lap pressed himself all the way down onto his erection, making lovely sounds of his own. "I wish I could record this-you, record you and the sounds you make-fuck, a-and how you look, so when you're not here, I could just... Christ." The brunette's movements rendering him to do nothing but babble and thrust his hips up into the tight heat.

At that, Kurt lifted himself off to scramble for Blaine's phone, pressing it into his hands before pushing himself back onto Blaine's cock, giving him a a breathy "If you liking this position you can tape it on your video phone,".

So Blaine did. He got as much as his crappy phone memory allowed him, taping Kurt and his gorgeous body, gorgeous moans, gorgeous movements.

"I'm keeping this," He informed Kurt after, laying in a tangled mess with each other, both breathless and sedated. Blaine was re-watching it, Kurt only glancing at the screen and cheeks reddening but a smug smirk playing on his lips. "Forever."

(But he really should have set some kind of lock on his phone or something. It probably would have kept Wes from finding it and going through a simultaneous gay-crisis and mental trauma.)

Jumper by Third Eye Blind

"You know, I used to think about throwing myself off a rooftop."

And wow, Kurt was not expecting that. All he could do was sputter a useless "Whu-" and look over at Blaine with wide eyes.

The older male looked up at the sunset colored sky, the light making him look all the more gorgeous to Kurt. "Back when I was at my old school, sometimes, it just- it was almost too much, you know?" And he did.

They let a silence settle over them before Blaine looked over at him again, expression serene but also so bare that it made swallowing a little harder for the ocean-eyed boy.

"Aren't you gonna say anything?" He asked, sounding so vulnerable that Kurt had to look at him to make sure that it was still Blaine talking. (Sweet, courageous, strong Blaine.)

It was another few seconds of silence before Kurt entwined his fingers with Blaine's own warm (strong) ones, allowing both of them to breathe again.

"I'm glad you didn't jump."

I Want You (She's So Heavy) from Across The Universe

Every time Kurt looks at Blaine he wonders if anyone has ever wanted another being so much.

It's a bit terrifying, he thinks. Because whenever Blaine makes his way into his line of sight or he catches himself thinking about the older boy, this overwhelming want surges through him.

He wants Blaine, wants to touch him, have him exclusively for himself, make Blaine want him just as badly.
But they're taking it slow, just friends.

Yet he can't help but wonder if they do get together, somehow this wanting would die down, at least a little.

(It doesn't.)

If anything, getting together has made the wanting even worse. It's embarrassing quite frankly. When he sees or thinks about Blaine now, his breathing hitches from memories of bare skin, nipping teeth and he wants to rip Blaine out of his shirt so people can see the marks he raked down his back and just know that, yes, Blaine is his.
Now, he wants Blaine to shove him against any surface and ravish him until he can't remember his own name.
Now, he feels like if he doesn't get enough of Blaine he's actually going to die.

It's maddening.

Freeze Ray by Neil Patrick Harris (from Dr. Horrible)

(Yesssssss. I love Dr. Horrible, and an excellent excuse for a Dr. Horrible AU in which Blaine is Billy, Kurt as Penny and Finn as Captain Hammer. y/y?)

He knows it's creepy. (And probably ill-advised.)
But Blaine can't stop staring at him, and maybe indulge in fantasies that involve them ballroom dancing together. (In his great big palace that he will own as soon as he joins the Evil League of Evil and takes over the world, it's really only a matter of time.)

Kurt. He caught his name before, when he was talking on his phone. (Not because he stole his wallet before to see his ID or anything because that would be nothing short of stalking.)

He's a really lovely guy. Like, honestly lovely. He could be a Disney Princess's long lost brother or something.

And he has really nice hair. It looks so soft and shiny, it makes Blaine want to run his fingers through it, push loose strands of chestnut hair out of the cherubic face. It's really nice hair.
"Love your hair."

It takes Kurt looking at him with quirked eyebrows and a surprised expression saying "What?" to him for him to realize that he said it aloud.

He kind of wishes his freeze ray was working so he could stop time right now because one, he just said that out loud oh god and two,Kurt talked to him.
Okay, he tells himself, time to be cool Blaine, be smooth, suave, like James Bond, or Harry Potter.

Instead he just stutters out "I-uh, I meant I l-love the air, it's really... nice." Takes his laundry out the dryer and bolts out of there.

Fuck You by Garfunkel and Oates
(Lots of love for this song. And these girls. Guh.)

It probably wasn't the best idea to let Wes and David choose a duet for Kurt and Blaine.

But Kurt let them because, what's the harm?
Turns out, there could be plenty of harm.

(Blaine's constant  told you so's weren't helping either.)

"I don't even know this song." Was what he first said to try and get a different song. It didn't really work because David just responded with a cheeky, "Well it's good to try new things."

"Are we even allowed to sing a song with 'fuck' in it?" He asked with pleading eyes, this time it was Wes who shrugged and said "We sang a song about getting laid, this isn't much different." A pause, then a grin that made Kurt uneasy. "Besides, we think this song is perfect for the two of you." And with that, they left.

He looked over the lyrics in his hands, then proceeded to get refaced and look over at Blaine who looked just as embarrassed, but not as surprised.

"Well," Blaine was the first to speak since Wes and David left. "This is quite... the interesting song choice." At which Kurt snorted, because seriously.

Eventually they got over the initial embarrassment and rehearsed. Only pausing when Kurt had to say that he's really like to "fuck" Blaine.
"Oh." It was part of the song, Kurt reminded himself when he looked up at Blaine and muttered a small "Oh," himself.
Only when he looked back up at Blaine it was getting harder to convince himself of that they were following the song. Because Blaine kept looking at him like that.

So he decided, fuck it, and threw himself at Blaine, who responded with just as much enthusiasm.

In the end, he decided that maybe he should let Wes and David choose their songs more often, especially if the end result was always like this.

Overture/All That Jazz by Catherine Zeta-Jones (from Chicago)

The thing people had to understand about Kurt Hummel was that he didn't just sing, he performed.

That was the point he wanted to get across every time he got up on a stage. And that was what he was going to show Blaine- uh, The Warblers. He was going to show The Warblers. (Blaine who?)

So, for his audition song (performance) he chose a flashy song that still required actual singing skills.
From nowhere else than Chicago.
(He happened to make a very nice Velma, thank you very much.)

So, he put on a show. But that was nothing new. What was new though, was the fact that he received a standing ovation from everyone in the room. (He was used to just having the girls stand up and cheer for him because the New Directions boys were such boys.)

And if by strutting around the floor and shaking what his mother gave him during his audition caused Blaine to kiss the living daylights out of him well that was just a bonus.

Telephone (feat. Beyonce) by Lady Gaga

Hello, you've reached- (Hey, is it recording yet? Yes Blaine, that's why the red light is on. You sure? Yes. How can you- You're doing this on purpose, jerk.) Ahem. You've reached Kurt Hummel and Blaine Morgan. (I don't know why you just don't take my last name Kurt, it's a pretty awesome last name. Blaine, sweetie, shut up, we have a time limit on this thing.) If you're hearing this, then we can't answer the phone right now because we're out, or something. ('Or something' is codeword for sex, by the way. Oh my God Blaine, if you don't stop interrupting I will cut you. You can't do that, I'm pretty sure that'd be considered domestic abuse. Seriously, Blaine I will end you if we don't finish this one because that would be the fifth time we'd have to re-record for our answering machine because you can't stop talking. Well we better hurry up then Kurt, cause there's like, 10 seconds left.) Leave a message after the beep.

Elephant Love Medley from Moulin Rouge 

Kurt had planned the perfect date night, a dimly lit living room, just him and Blaine, and Moulin Rouge.
Yes, it would be a good night.

What he hadn't planned on however, was that Blaine would keep making comments throughout the movie.

He tried to deal with it, Finn was the same way actually.
Even though Blaine was more cultured, that didn't stop him from saying things like "What's going on, are they high, did they really just try to sing Madonna, Kurt this makes no sense and it's kind of confusing me even more than when I watched the Powerpuff Girls and didn't know if that devil guy was a girl or boy".

It was midway through and Blaine muttered, "This is like an acid trip," and Kurt decided that the best way to make him shut up was with his lips.

They didn't get to finish watching the movie, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care considering that Blaine had his tongue in his mouth.
He decided that this was a much better way to spend their date.

Paper Planes by MIA

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, looking down at the object held in his hand.

"Hm?" Blaine hummed from the kitchen, stepping out with the sizzling pan still in his hand.

"Why do you have a gun?"

He could hear the pan settle back down on the stove and the click signaling he turned the fire off. "Oh that? It's to shoot people, obviously."

Kurt sputtered, looking at the shorter man with wide eyes. "What-why?"

"If they don't give me my money." At Kurt's bewildered expression, he grinned wider. "There's something you should know." He leaned in closer to the other, taking the gun from his hand. "I am secretly a drug dealer, that's how I paid for the Dalton tuition, and for our rent. I have this gun just in case one of Esteban's guys come looking for me."

It was a moment of silence before Kurt squeaked out a "Really?".

"Psh, nope. This is a water gun, silly."
Though, it probably wasn't very smart to squirt water on Kurt's new Gucci sweater.

The Book of Love by Peter Gabriel
(So, I kinda cheated on this one. But I really wanted to write something like this for this song. Yaaaay future!fic?)

Kurt picked the book with the large sequined spine out of the bookshelf, brushing off whatever dust had settled on the cover before sitting on the plush sofa of their living room.

He smiled at the cover, running aged fingers over the picture of him and his husband. 'Blaine and Kurt's Great Big Book of Everything' was carefully written over a picture of them in tuxedo's at their wedding.

Pages were packed full of photos, tickets, even receipts that had collected over the years.
Slowly, he opened the page, reveling in how young they looked back in their high-school years.
As he made his way through different stages of their life, from teenagers, college boys, first shows, concerts, fashion shows, vacations, growing from fresh-faced boys to men with graying hair, steadily wearing wrinkles onto their faces, he felt his heart swell.

"Hey beautiful," Blaine muttered into his ear. He smiled wider at that, leaning into the warm embrace.

"Of course you still find me beautiful even though I'm old," Kurt muttered softly, letting Blaine turn the pages of their collected memories.

"You are." He assured, pressing a kiss to the back of the pale neck. "You've always have, and always will, be beautiful to me Kurt." He felt a squeeze against his hand, and felt slightly embarrassed by the fact that he had to blink back tears.

"Now, come on, the food's ready." Kurt nodded along, letting himself get pulled off the couch and onto the kitchen table, lit with candles and a small cake and flowers at the center.
"God, I love you Blaine." He whispered, allowing himself to shed a few tears this time.

"I know," Blaine grinned, and for a moment it was like they had gone back in time to the moment they met, hands interlocked. Only now they had wedding rings, laugh lines worn onto their faces, gray hair, and so many memories.

"Happy fiftieth anniversary Kurt."