Fic: Pocketful of Promise - Glee: Klaine
Fic: Pocketful of Promise
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: PG
Words: 373
Summary: He's got a pocketful of promise and a smile full of sunshine, holding hands with the man he loves.
Author's Note: I was relaxing and reading some of the excellent recs from the weekly round-up while drinking a pot of coffee and listening to some music when Hold My Hand" (this is the best cover EVER) rotated around and I immediately put it on repeat and wrote this little thing up in about twenty-thirty minutes while I finished my coffee. First time writing for this fandom too. <3'n it.
They're sitting in a little bistro and he can't really think of anything to say, to push words passed his lips and tell Kurt what's on his mind because one look, one touch, long fingers curled, twined with his own wipes away his ability to speak. It's as frightening as it is intense, right.
It really isn't fair how much he wants to lean across the table and kiss that sweet, wide mouth and forget that there are half a dozen other patrons waiting for their orders to be filled. He doesn't know a single person here save his date so he doesn't know how they'd react to that. Honestly, he couldn't care less how they'd react but he doesn't want them to ruin this perfect feeling, this perfect evening. He still wants to kiss Kurt, though.
Blaine's not too upset since they kiss all the time; a meeting of lips and promises whispered on warm breaths but nothing has been as intimate as the press of palms or the gentle sweep of soft fingertips tracing patterns into his skin. The way Kurt's hands roam over his body when they're alone as if he's fragile, precious. Kurt makes him feel wanted. He makes him feel cherished. Loved. It's exciting, intimidating, perfect. But he doesn't lean across the table for that kiss, instead just holds Kurt's hand and smiles; smitten. Maybe he'll just lift Kurt's hand and graze his knuckles.
But those hands - When he's sick, Kurt's hands are there to sooth. When he's sad they're there to comfort. When he's happy they're there to hold and kiss and tug that beautiful, wonderful man he loves to him and wrap around his neck or curl around his face, shoulders, to hold on tight and never let go.
Sometimes he wonders how the hell he got so lucky but he doesn't question it because he would never question what he has with Kurt. He knows this, what they have, will last. That's why he's got a velvet box resting against his thigh, rubbing against the fabric of his slacks like it can't wait to get out, burning a hole in his pocket with purpose.
It won't sit there for long though - He wants to hold Kurt's hand forever.
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: PG
Words: 373
Summary: He's got a pocketful of promise and a smile full of sunshine, holding hands with the man he loves.
Author's Note: I was relaxing and reading some of the excellent recs from the weekly round-up while drinking a pot of coffee and listening to some music when Hold My Hand" (this is the best cover EVER) rotated around and I immediately put it on repeat and wrote this little thing up in about twenty-thirty minutes while I finished my coffee. First time writing for this fandom too. <3'n it.
They're sitting in a little bistro and he can't really think of anything to say, to push words passed his lips and tell Kurt what's on his mind because one look, one touch, long fingers curled, twined with his own wipes away his ability to speak. It's as frightening as it is intense, right.
It really isn't fair how much he wants to lean across the table and kiss that sweet, wide mouth and forget that there are half a dozen other patrons waiting for their orders to be filled. He doesn't know a single person here save his date so he doesn't know how they'd react to that. Honestly, he couldn't care less how they'd react but he doesn't want them to ruin this perfect feeling, this perfect evening. He still wants to kiss Kurt, though.
Blaine's not too upset since they kiss all the time; a meeting of lips and promises whispered on warm breaths but nothing has been as intimate as the press of palms or the gentle sweep of soft fingertips tracing patterns into his skin. The way Kurt's hands roam over his body when they're alone as if he's fragile, precious. Kurt makes him feel wanted. He makes him feel cherished. Loved. It's exciting, intimidating, perfect. But he doesn't lean across the table for that kiss, instead just holds Kurt's hand and smiles; smitten. Maybe he'll just lift Kurt's hand and graze his knuckles.
But those hands - When he's sick, Kurt's hands are there to sooth. When he's sad they're there to comfort. When he's happy they're there to hold and kiss and tug that beautiful, wonderful man he loves to him and wrap around his neck or curl around his face, shoulders, to hold on tight and never let go.
Sometimes he wonders how the hell he got so lucky but he doesn't question it because he would never question what he has with Kurt. He knows this, what they have, will last. That's why he's got a velvet box resting against his thigh, rubbing against the fabric of his slacks like it can't wait to get out, burning a hole in his pocket with purpose.
It won't sit there for long though - He wants to hold Kurt's hand forever.