“What?” Kurt says from the kitchen, focusing on stirring his tea. He’s already made a habit out of not really listening to whatever Santana says — and she’s only been living with them for a few weeks.
“Is there a particular reason you have the Men of McKinley calendar hidden in your room and it’s still on January even in March?”
Kurt drops the spoon.
Kurt: Is sexting like a real thing that people do, or is it just some joke that I’m missing the punchline of.
Blaine: Hello to you, too.
Blaine: Nothing wrong with a little… literary stimulation.
Kurt: It seems silly. I used to watch Santana fire off these dirty texts in study hall while waiting for her topcoat to dry. It was like a joke to her.
Blaine: Well, that could have had more to do with her not being interested in who was on the other end of the line.
Blaine: Why do you ask?
Kurt: I don’t know, it felt like one of those… teenage experiences.
Blaine: Bucket list.
Blaine: I’m right.
Kurt: Maybe. But just because I want to try something, it doesn’t mean it’s on my bucket list. Sometimes I just want to eat blueberry pancakes for dinner. It doesn’t mean it’s fulfilling a list obligation.
Blaine: What are you wearing?
Kurt: You saw me two hours ago, you know what I’m wearing.
When Blaine opens his inbox, the last thing he expects is a message from Cooper.
“I recommend oil for nude scenes, bro,” it says. “But I like your smooth tan. Did you try the place I recommended? Tiffany sprays like no one else.”
Blaine sighs and opens the next email.
“Also, did you get to keep those Christmas pants?”
…well, all right.
Based on this post.
Blaine slung his bag over his shoulder, his eyes darting from the paper in his hand to the numbers on the wall next to doorways. He knew he should have paid more attention during his tour of NYADA, but Kurt had been texting him dirty things and he had been more than a little distracted…
He was finally feeling like he was heading in the right direction when suddenly a voice called out, “Hey, you!”
Blaine’s head jerked around reflexively, seeking whoever had yelled. A tall boy with shockingly red hair was grinning broadly at him, an equally tall boy with black hair standing awkwardly next to him. Blaine frowned. “Can I help you?”
“It’s you!” He smacked his friend’s arm. “Alex, I told you it was him!”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Blaine asked, his frown deepening.
“You’re totally that dude who cried his way through a Katy Perry song last year at Callbacks!”
Blaine was pretty sure his entire body was red as he sputtered an excuse and hurried away. As he sank into his seat in his first class, he prayed that wasn’t going to be what he was known for for the next four years.
Judging by the whispers that followed him for the rest of the day, he was probably wrong.
to kurt, amortentia would smell like coffee with two sugar and one cream, it would smell like pine trees and the crisp morning air of a winter day, it would smell like cinnamon and winter.
and, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, it would always smell like that stupid raspberry hairgel.
to blaine, it would smell like clean laundry, the warm, dusty scent of a brightly-lit stage, hairspray, piano keys, and mocha.
imagine little kid Blaine with Nightbird-esque tendencies when he’s sad, like wrapping himself up in a tartan blanket and speaking in third person.
“Do you want some milk and cookies Blaine?”
“Blaine isn’t hungry.”
“We say ‘no thank you’ Blaine.”
“No thank you. Blaine isn’t hungry.”
Their Breadstix date is quite the success, or so the happy buzzing remnants of their kiss informs Kurt’s senses. Blaine had almost melted when Kurt deepened it a touch, sucking in his top lip between his own lips, and Kurt needs to remember to do that again. Because there’s sure to be a later, no, a definite later because after he dropped Blaine off at Dalton (he’s boarding there! Oh he’s so darn cute) Blaine had immediately texted Kurt asking him out for coffee over the weekend.
Kurt waits all of the time it takes to pull off the road to answer heartedly yes. As in, with a heart. He might be a bit eager but Blaine’s answering heart makes him glad he didn’t second-guess himself.
Coffee goes even better, it seems like they can’t run out of the things to say to each other. Blaine is dedicated to performing, saying how he just really thinks the arts are the way into people’s hearts and Kurt is quite inclined to agree, adding that the praise doesn’t hurt either and Blaine laughingly admits that’s also true.
“I do love a good bask,” Kurt says, leaning back a touch, and if he’s already afterglow-y before they’ve even done anything particularly heated (they’d hugged upon meeting in the parking lot and Blaine had been ever the gentleman in offering his arm as he led Kurt into the Lima Bean), he has no idea how he’ll handle something as scandalous as a good mindless makeout session.
i know its because kurt’s on skates so he’s even taller than usual but hEIGHT DIFFERENCE my brain is breaking *____________*
(disregarding that they’re broken up shh)
Kurt slides over on his skates to where Blaine is waiting for him at the side of the rink, circling around him before Blaine grabs his hips and pulls him close. Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck to keep his balance, smiling down at him.
“Stop that,” Blaine says and looks up at him, a little pout on his lips.
Kurt furrows his brows. “Stop what?”
“I saw that smirk, you’re totally enjoying how short I am right now.” Blaine grins even as he says it, and Kurt’s smile breaks out more freely, his cold cheeks hurting with the stretch of it.
“Maybe I am,” Kurt muses, pulling up his neck straighter as Blaine makes to kiss him.
“Kurt,” Blaine whines and raises up on his tip-toes, tugging at the lapels of Kurt’s jacket. Kurt laughs before finally giving in, leaning down to kiss the tip of Blaine’s red nose.
Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s neck and tilts his head up, lips finally meeting Kurt’s, their breath hot between them even in the cold. Kurt smiles, hands resting securely at the small of Blaine’s back, steadying him as he still stands on his toes, and happily kisses him back.