sirenspull meme!

[xeidra]

FANSERVICE MEME

♥ post with your characters!
♥ respond to other people's characters with who you ship them with!
♥ if not a ship, then request a character whom you love to see interacting with them!
♥ ...or your own characters. or just random people for the heck of it. (even dropped characters are allowed.)♥ HOWEVER THAT IS NOT WHERE THIS ENDS; in

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[showbizpanache]

[hisdiscretion]

Kurt/Blaine ROLEPLAYING.

Franz/Kurt awkward morning after.

I'LL DO THAT OTHER ONE LATER

[showbizpanache]

[Curled up on the bed, holding a pillow very close. Zzzzzz.]

[hisdiscretion]

[Franz wakes up slowly. Being as he's worked mostly nights for over a year now, he's not exactly a chirpy morning riser. And there was probably a little bit too much wine involved, so... he stretches, and his arm encounters. A boy. Shaped like Kurt.]

Mm? [waitwaitwait. Did they--? Franz sits up quickly, and immediately regrets it, muttering curses.]

[showbizpanache]

[Kurt is not yet awake. In fact, he snuggles the pillow even more, his face utterly serene-- A far cry from the stuck-up expression he's usually wearing.]

[hisdiscretion]

[Like an angel. Franz leans over him, smoothing his hair and whispering intimately in his ear--]

Kurt, get up. You're going to miss the gigantic today-only shoe sale. If we don't get there quickly you won't find Prada in your size.

[showbizpanache]

[It works like a charm. Kurt wake up immediately, still groggy, and squints up at Franz. Oh, okay, whatever... He makes to lie down, and then realizes-- Franz. It's Franz. He's in bed with--

His eyes fly open and he sucks in a gasp, nearly falling out of the bed. He tugs the covers over himself self-consciously-- Oh my god, he's not wearing anything.]

You--me--us--what?

[hisdiscretion]

Calm down. Don't freak out.

[Franz is discreetly looking around for any signs of wrongdoing - condoms, lube... not that he hasn't been able to get up to plenty of bad stuff without either of those.]

Maybe we both just went to bed drunk.

[And naked.]

And... hot.

[showbizpanache]

[Kurt just stares. He shifts about, looking for his clothes, and--winces in pain.

...Well, fuck. He looks over at Franz in embarrassment and mild horror.]

[hisdiscretion]

[Franz looks up from where he's experiencing some similar concern with the little pile of wet naps and condoms ever-so-carefully in a pile just shy of the waste basket.]

...How...

[He gets up, rather smoothly for someone this hung over, and throws Kurt his housecoat, stumbling into a pair of pajama pants.]

...do you... like your eggs? I think we're sort of having a.

A breakfast situation.

[showbizpanache]

[It's like he's paralyzed after a horrible accident or something. His eyes remain wide and comically round as he catches the housecoat, tugging it on mechanically.]

Egg whites. No yolk. Wheat toast. Pinch of salt and paprika.

[hisdiscretion]

[Franz leans in the doorway a moment and mouths seriously? before making his way into the kitchen. After all, he had offered. The electric kettle goes on, and he starts slicing the bread (you'll have to deal with pan de mie since it's all that he has in the house right now - at least feel better about your white bread because it's French?). It's an oddly solemn ordeal, and he curses trying to get the yolk out of the egg, at least.]

[showbizpanache]

[As Franz cooks the sound of a shower running can be heard, and it's a good 10-15 minutes before Kurt wanders into the kitchen, wrapped up in the housecoat with wet hair. He looks oddly small.]

It smells very good.

[hisdiscretion]

[Noticing the folly of cooking bacon without a short on, he's pulled on a rather utilitarian apron over his pajama pants. He manages a smile for Kurt.]

Mind putting some tea on? It's the top shelf of the pantry next to you.

[showbizpanache]

Not at all.

[He's in a little less pain now thanks to the shower, but he can still feel it, and it's making it impossible to pretend that nothing happened. He can no longer default to being fine, to pushing everything aside with a proud smile and 'The show must go on'.

It's easy enough to reach the teapot, but he winces a little nonetheless. Hoping Franz hadn't noticed, he fills it with water and begins preparing the tea in some bizarre pre-programmed manner.]

[hisdiscretion]

[The enormity of the situation is starting to make Franz feel a bit claustrophobic, but he's good at shrugging off worries, shoving things into bins in the backs of closets. Breakfast is plated, and the eggs - and unrepetantly not-wheat toast, are set on the table, with tea, and adequately cooked if not perfectly crispy bacon.]

Eat something. You look like you're about to keel over.