Summary: Anything you can do, I can do better. OR the one where Kurt and Blaine realize they can see the couple across the alley having sex. Which leads to sex. And shennanigans.
“Blaine,” Kurt calls. He hears the clink of Blaine setting dishes in the sink and the hushed start of water. “Blaine.” Louder and more insistent. The water shuts off.
“What? Kurt I’m about—”
“Come here,” Kurt hisses. He knows he can’t be overheard through two sets of windows, but his behavior is less than decorous and that seems to warrant some modicum of discretion.
“What?” Blaine rounds the corner into the bedroom.
“I told you he was gay,” Kurt says, turning toward him, face arranged in a well practiced look of smug superiority. He loves winning.
“How do you know— oh!” Blaine ducks behind the window treatment on the other side of the window.
@Inphenate #inphenatebuddies @madkbrew @chriscolfer
Short little sick!Kurt fic. Fluff, fluff, fluff.
“Kurt? Are you – oh, honey. Are you sick?”
Summary: Blaine wakes up before Kurt. In more ways than one.
A/N: because ems wanted early!klaine getting off together *u*
Perhaps it was a bit lame to tell Mercedes and Tina that they couldn’t go to the mall after school because they were going to nap.
It’s just that after a long week of classes and dancing and singing, all he really wants to do is curl up beside Kurt and wake up beside Kurt.
Dianna Agron being adorable before her ALS Ice Bucket Challenge +
Kurt is wearing a pair of boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination and Blaine has only one thing on his mind.
It starts with a pair of dove gray boxer briefs.
Well, technically, it starts with laundry day.
Kurt had gotten melted chocolate from the chocolate chip cookies they’d baked on his sweatpants and Blaine had offered to put them in the washing machine for him. Somewhere in between being helpful and relocating from the kitchen to Kurt’s bedroom for movie time, his attentions had shifted from “innocent Saturday afternoon with my boyfriend” to Kurt wearing nothing but a pair of last year’s boxer briefs and a tank top, on display standing on tip toe in his walk-in closet.
Blaine, sitting at the end of Kurt’s bed, watches at first through the reflection of the mirror on the closet door behind Kurt and then simply watches Kurt directly, straining to reach something at the back of the top shelf. The boxer briefs cut in at his tiny waist and hug the firm, high shape of his ass like a glove, and when he comes down off of his toes the material is sucked up in between his cheeks, outlining each side in full detail. The muscles in his thighs clench as he shifts around, trying to dislodge the material without indelicately picking at his butt.
Blaine’s cheeks go from warm to inferno in about five seconds.