Baby I Believe
I Dream of Jeannie AU
Kurt had found the lamp at an estate sale. It would have been quite an understatement to say that he was surprised when, after forcing the lid off, a cloud of pink smoke had billowed out and turned into a guy that was dressed like a preppy kid from the fifties. In fact, Kurt had fallen off the edge of the bed and kept scrambling backwards until his back had collided with the wall.
What Kurt had been sure was a hallucination had made the situation worse by saying, “Don’t flip, I’ll clue you. You’re not a sewer, right?”, and Kurt had whimpered, “Oh God, I wish you would stop talking.”
Miraculously, it had done just that.
It was only after Finn, passing by the open door, had suggested Kurt at least keep it closed when sneaking guys into his room while Burt was home, that Kurt had accepted that he wasn’t just imaging things. And it was only after snapping, “I wish you would explain what’s going on,” to the frustratingly silent boy that he’d let out a relieved sigh and replied, “Oh, thank you, I thought I’d be mute for a while there.” He’d straightened out the front of his red cardigan, smiled wide, and held out a hand to shake. “Hello, I’m Blaine, a genie. Are you going to tell me your name, or should I just call you ‘Master’?”
You Look Like You’re The Best
Blaine spends the entire dinner grumbling that Kurt should have let him install the nanny cams around the house.
"I don’t know what you’re so worried about," Kurt says, ignoring Blaine’s hints that they should get going and asking for a dessert menu. “He was babysitting you back when he was a teenager and he never lost you."
"That I remember," Blaine counters darkly.
But when they finally arrive home, it’s to find that their son is peacefully slumbering, bath taken and dinner finished. Cooper has even tidied up the house. Kurt thanks him enthusiastically while Blaine thanks him contritely, and Cooper makes them promise to go out and let him see his nephew more often on his way out the door.
They don’t start getting phone calls from talent competitions about their son’s audition tape until a whole week later.
Kurt has a collection of wedding rings—fourteen of them, to be exact—hidden in an old menthols tin in his drawer. He’s not sure how it escaped discovery when Santana ransacked his room. Maybe it didn’t, and she just felt it wasn’t as juicy a discovery as Brody’s pager and wad of cash.
He’s spent a lot of time rationalizing why it isn’t weird to have them. Because all of them were furtively purchased at estate sales he went to with Blaine, while Blaine was preoccupied with bow ties and blazers. And while it was a little strange to buy a wedding ring a week after graduating high school for your boyfriend of more than a year, it was definitely, extremely strange to buy a wedding ring while on an outing with your platonic friend of five weeks. Kurt knew that at the time, but all he saw when he picked them up was how well they would fit Blaine, and really, what was the harm in having it…?
He doesn’t look at them after the break up, but he doesn’t get rid of them, either.
Isabelle is very gracious about giving him time off to see his dad. He has to press her for an assignment when his dad’s clean bill of health lets him return to the city earlier than he’d feared he would. She finally tells him about an estate sale upstate. The late woman in question used to be a model for Vogue way back in the sixties. Kurt goes to her penthouse with vague ideas about an op-ed piece, or finding some inspiration for something new among the old, but the first thing he thinks when he sees the jewelry laid out on the vanity is Blaine.
By the time Blaine moves to New York, Kurt is up to seventeen.
During Blaine’s second semester the rent goes up, and their options are to either try and fit a fifth person into the space, or find some more money. Kurt, Rachel, and Santana all reach other to their parents for help, but Blaine applies everywhere and eventually comes home with a job at a bakery.
At first Kurt is understandably bummed, because it means fewer opportunities to be alone in the loft, or at least alone in their curtained-off portion of the loft while Rachel and Santana play loud music or watch loud TV, and Blaine won’t even risk his job to slip him free pastries to compensate. But then Blaine comes home one night when it’s too late to shower without waking the whole loft, and it’s basically like a giant, living gingerbread man crawled into bed with Kurt.
In a non-creepy way.
After that Kurt forbids Blaine from taking showers until after he’s gotten a chance to hug him and envelop himself in a delicious cloud of sugar, cinnamon, and bread dough.
Hips Don’t Lie
this is canon though
Blaine only went because Cooper got him the lessons as a birthday present (which he accompanied him on; Blaine was pretty sure he’d just wanted to add the skill to his resume and Blaine’s birthday was coincidentally timed). He and Cooper had been the only men in the class, and it had been awkward at first, being the not-quite-explicitly-out-yet thirteen-year-old, surrounded by women ranging from sixteen to sixty who all thought he was adorable and an older brother that loved to tease him, but by the end of the first class he was hooked. Before that, the extent of his dance training had been square dancing in PE, and Cooper’s free critique of whatever moves he imitated from MTV. Blaine had never realized that structured dancing could be so much fun before.
It helped that his instructor, an energetically loud woman in her forties, managed to sound encouraging even when she was shouting corrections at him. Which she did, frequently and with zeal: “Soft knees! Elbows away! Tuck the bottom!” (He got that last one a lot).
Blaine learned to do the twist, shift, lift, shimmy, and horizontal figure eight, at which point his parents stopped paying for lessons and, since he had no theme park funds to dip into at the time, his education stalled. He started looking up youtube videos and practicing in his room when he got his own laptop, but it wasn’t the same as having a teacher that could circle him and yell at him to straighten out his spine.
Believe it or not, Blaine didn’t connect sensuous hip movement with sex until Kurt squeaked and went bright red one day during their usual “talk while Kurt watches Blaine dance around the room to music and they wait for their afternoon shows to come on” routine. In his defense, belly dancing was something that he’d always associated with his brother and old ladies before.
He came to like Kurt’s associations much, much more.
Open Your Mouth Boy
"Kurt, would you please come out?" Blaine asked, knocking softly on the bathroom door.
"No!" Kurt said shrilly. “I revoke your invitation to my house!" he added.
"That’s not actually a thing, Kurt," Blaine said, as gently as he could. So far, this confession was not going nearly as well as he’d hoped.
"Oh, God, have you been breaking into my room and feeding on me at night?!" There was a sudden loud rustling on the other side of the door.
"No!" Blaine heard Kurt’s belt hit the tiled floor. "…Are you looking for bite marks?"
A Well Suited Man
Kurt sort of backed into investigative reporting. It started with a fashion blog, and finding the best wardrobe for the lowest prices, and before he knew it he was exposing exploitive chain store practices and and warning his readership about hazardous chemicals in too-good-to-be-true dark jeans. Once he had a taste for that kind of public service, the scope of his investigations began to widen.
But fashion remained his first love. So when the red and blue mystery dropped suddenly out of the sky, Kurt had little interest in the raging debate over his “true motives.” If saving two ferries full of tourists from drowning between Manhattan and Staten Island when they collided didn’t prove those already, Kurt didn’t know how anyone could read evil intentions into those big brown eyes. Forget heat vision; he could knock you down with the strength of his sincerity. To Kurt, any doubt was just yet another example of people believing that being different meant not being capable of doing good.
What Kurt intended to do, was to get this superman to sit down long enough to find out what sort of super-durable fabric that suit was made out of.
Acting Naughtier Than We Really Are
slightly nsfw, R
Kurt was pretty sure that his and Blaine’s sex life was weird.
And he didn’t mean kinky-weird. Partly because he still found kinks to be either intimidating or unappealing, and partly because so many perversions these days were mainstream. If Kurt could read about it in a book series that was basically outselling the Bible, he didn’t consider it “weird.” Not something that he’d necessarily want to try, but still, not weird.
Weird was the stuff that he’d never come across in books, or on the internet, or on TV. Weird was stuff that other people just didn’t do, or if they did, they didn’t find it erotic enough to market it.
Weird was probably, in the name of scientific intrigue and prurient curiosity, Blaine going down on him to give him a hickey on his dick after a lengthy discussion as to whether or not it were possible. Weird was probably Kurt twisting up sheets and limbs as he tried to keep his hips fixed and Blaine’s lips sucking on the side of his shaft feeling just as (more than?) incredible as a proper blowjob.
Pacific Rim AU
Kurt recognized him as soon as he saw him, of course. Five years ago, the Anderson brothers had been his favorite Jaeger team; he’d had a shameless crush on Cooper, and he and half of the world had mourned when he’d been lost off coast of Alaska. But Kurt’s concerns had soon turned homeward, when the dismantling of the Jaeger program put himself and his father out of work. Which was how Kurt had found himself on the Alaskan coast. Putting up a wall wasn’t nearly as elegant work as refining the pinnacle of instruments, but Kurt had to feel like his was contributing in some way.
So when Blaine arrived at the wall, Kurt knew him at a glance, but he held his tongue. He let Blaine introduce himself as Devon, and sit beside him in mess, and joke with him that he was bundled in so many layers, if he fell off the wall, he’d barely feel the impact.
Kurt let him, in brief moments, forget the unforgettable. He hoped that he did, anyway, when they pressed past cold lips for hot kisses.
And, selfishly, as long as the pretense of anonymity was maintained, Kurt never had to hear the condemnation he feared lived in the heart of all the veteran pilots—that it was the mechanics who had failed them, ultimately. If they had only worked harder, faster, more cleverly on new designs…
Blaine’s presence did more than reignite his hope. He made the worst not seem so bad. And it was cold enough on the top of the wall.