Just One Look and I Can Hear a Phone Ring
Rating: PG
Characters: Kurt, Blaine, past Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Blaine and Kurt discuss Phil Collins and their respective guilty pleasures
A post-episode drabble for 4.17 Guilty Pleasures
A/N: Thanks to wowbright for looking this over and general loveliness. Also, I fully believe that Klaine is endgame. Let’s enjoy the ride.
Read it on Tumblr!
~~
“And then we decided to make it a theme for the Glee assignment this week, so I told Sam we should do more Phil Collins.” Blaine finished.
“Wait, how did you get from Wham to Phil Collins?” Kurt asked, pulling Bruce tighter around his shoulders and holding the phone out so he could hear better.
“Uh, they’re both musical geniuses, Kurt.”
“Couldn’t you just use Katy Perry?” He couldn’t resist ruffling Blaine’s feathers.
“Very funny. If you must know, Katy Perry was rejected.”
Kurt laughed aloud, and shifted sideways on the bed. He had been talking to Blaine about Wham (and Sam) for about an hour now, and it was clear that Blaine’s crush was still in full swing.
He didn’t mind so much. It was really nice to be wrapped in Bruce’s arms while Blaine’s voice worked itself out of the tinny speaker and into his ears. It was better like this, it almost felt like -
No.
“Kurt, are you listening?”
Kurt had not been listening. “What?”
“I said, and that’s when the real embarrassment came because Sam told me that he knew who my guilty pleasure was.”
Oh. “Blaine, that’s. . .god, what did he say? Are you, um, ok?” He pulled the pillow closer and gripped the phone a little tighter. Sam wasn’t the kind of person to flip out on people, but the way Blaine had been talking about Sam’s ass last week made it pretty clear that he wasn’t hiding his affections that well.
But Blaine just laughed, and Kurt could picture him blushing beside him, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He always shook his head when he laughed like this, and fanned his eyelashes across his cheek.
“I’m fine. He was cool about it. He even fell for the breath mints excuse. Which totally worked, by the way.”
Something gripped Kurt hard in his stomach. You mean there was a reason for pulling the breath mint excuse? “Oh?”
And then it was quiet for a moment. “Well, yeah. I mean, come on Kurt. You and I both know how tight those arms can hold you. And he always smells like Axe body spray. Do you think he used that when he stripped-”
“I really don’t know,” Kurt replied, schooling his face into a forced smile, and ignoring the phantom warmth he was feeling (that had absolutely nothing to do with Blaine AT all). He rolled over and took the phone off speakerphone. “But I’m glad Sam was cool about it. Come to think of it, I’m really not that surprised. He was always so accepting about everything.”
“And those lips, Kurt. Don’t even get me started-”
“OK, Blaine.” Bruce was now on the floor, and Kurt curled up against his headboard, hands drawing up his knees and lip firmly being chewed. Yes, Sam’s lips were disgustingly plump and surely as soft as snowflakes. . .
“Kurt? Are you still there?”
“Yeah.” Blaine was daydreaming about Sam’s lips, and Kurt wanted to be a good friend and gush with him. Because it’s what good friends do, and that’s all they are now. Good friends.
“Good, because I wanted to talk about how Sam got us all to dress up as Abba, and sing ‘Mamma Mia.’ Turns out Barry Manilow wasn’t his only guilty pleasure.”
He leaned forward on the bed. “Oh, my god, I love that song! Rachel was just singing it yesterday because we were letting her work out her Brody-the-man-whore issues-”
“Yeah, so it was awesome. We brought out hula hoops and everything, just like in the-”
“Yeah, us too!” Kurt replied, eyeing Bruce on the floor now, and realizing how lonely he must be down there. He grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him back around himself as he pressed the speaker button again.
“It reminded me of that one time we watched it together on the couch and ended up burning the cupcakes.”
Kurt smirked. “Because we couldn’t come up for air in time and you forgot to set the timer.”
“I couldn’t help that I was distracted by your arms and how naked they were in that muscle shirt-” The flirty tone he heard in Blaine’s voice did not make him feel any better.
“I can’t believe you ever talked me into wearing that. Whoever thought that you were into neon green and that I would even touch it with a ten foot pole-”
Blaine laughed his squeaky laugh again, and Kurt’s heart spilled out of his chest. That laugh was as familiar to him as the faded Dalton sweatshirt in his top drawer that he took from Blaine’s closet. As comfortable as this banter between them while reminiscing about last year. As vivid as the memory of his skin and the way his ass had grinded right up against his thigh on that couch just when the song had begun in the movie -
A small sigh escaped his lips.. There was only silence on the line, and Kurt wondered if Blaine was thinking about it too. How it had been the first time they had really let go and sunk each other’s hands into their shorts that summer and embraced the way the heat spread and burst in a combined rush of yes and oh god right there.
“Blaine.”
“Yeah Kurt?” His voice sounded normal, but Kurt knew that Blaine could put that polite salve on anything when there was a risk of someone being uncomfortable.
It made him feel like a deflated balloon when he realized it meant Blaine was blocking him out a bit. For his own good, of course.
Because they were friends. Right?
“Blaine,” he began, feeling each word stick to the roof of his mouth a bit. “do you still think about it-”
“Of course I do-”
“Even in the face of Trouty Mouth and his amazing lips?”
Blaine’s laughter was real again, and for a moment, Bruce melted away, and Blaine returned to pull Kurt into his arms.
“Even with his amazing luscious lips. Kurt, the um. The song I sang was about you.”
“The Wham?”
“No, silly. The Phil Collins.”
“Oh.” Of course he knew that. It wasn’t too difficult to put together when you think about the lyrics. “But you said you sang it to Sam.” And that made sense, because Blaine was always so melodramatic.
“Well yeah, but the song was always about you.”
“Okay, that doesn’t make sense.”
More silence. And then a deep breath. “He helps me forget about you.”
Mamma Mia, here I go again. . .
“Oh,” he nuzzled his cheek into the crook of Blaine’s (no, Bruce’s) arm. Too bad he didn’t still have one of Blaine’s henleys to cut up. It would have been therapeutic.
“Yeah, oh.” The silence lingered for a moment, and Kurt felt like he was waiting for a moment.
Instead, Blaine cleared his throat and said, “So, um, what are your guilty pleasures?”
I’m holding onto one. “What? You know all of them.”
Blaine scoffed. “Well, yeah. I know your propensity for watching infomercials when you can’t sleep and how many different types of foot cream you have, and how you put Vaseline on your-“
“It’s a natural lubricant,” he butted in, face blushing.
“No, I mean now. What are your newest guilty pleasures? Tell me one I don’t know about.”
Kurt thought, stretching his toes out on the bed.
Richard Simmons? A strong affinity for curly haired men in short shorts?
Not new.
Golden Girls? SO not a guilty pleasure. What self-respecting gay man doesn’t watch that show?
He squeezed Bruce, and almost laughed aloud. Hell no. No way in hell. Hell to the no. No, no, hell could freeze over and still no.
Oh god.
“Come What May.” I still think about you in a tux singing to me on a rooftop and telling me how you’ll love me to my dying day.
“Kurt?”
“Fine. There’s something from last week when I was snowed in the apartment with Adam-“
Heavy silence.
Oh shit. Abort.
“Uh-huh?”
He swallowed and tried not to squeak it out. “And we decided to watch-“
But Blaine interrupted. “Oh, damn. Kurt, that’s Sam. I have to take this. We’re supposed to figure out what to do on Monday if Mr. Schue is still sick-“
He bit back his disappointment. “No, no it’s cool. Don’t worry. We’ll talk again soon, ok?”
“Ok. I’m totally finding out your guilty pleasure, though ok?”
Kurt’s heart warmed again. “Okay.” He hung up the phone and sighed, pulling Bruce (welcome back, my beloved) under the covers with him, and squeezing his eyes shut.
The pleasure could remain guilty for another night.
Why why did I ever let you go?
Read the sequel, Come Today (not just what may)
Characters: Kurt, Blaine, past Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Blaine and Kurt discuss Phil Collins and their respective guilty pleasures
A post-episode drabble for 4.17 Guilty Pleasures
A/N: Thanks to wowbright for looking this over and general loveliness. Also, I fully believe that Klaine is endgame. Let’s enjoy the ride.
Read it on Tumblr!
~~
“And then we decided to make it a theme for the Glee assignment this week, so I told Sam we should do more Phil Collins.” Blaine finished.
“Wait, how did you get from Wham to Phil Collins?” Kurt asked, pulling Bruce tighter around his shoulders and holding the phone out so he could hear better.
“Uh, they’re both musical geniuses, Kurt.”
“Couldn’t you just use Katy Perry?” He couldn’t resist ruffling Blaine’s feathers.
“Very funny. If you must know, Katy Perry was rejected.”
Kurt laughed aloud, and shifted sideways on the bed. He had been talking to Blaine about Wham (and Sam) for about an hour now, and it was clear that Blaine’s crush was still in full swing.
He didn’t mind so much. It was really nice to be wrapped in Bruce’s arms while Blaine’s voice worked itself out of the tinny speaker and into his ears. It was better like this, it almost felt like -
No.
“Kurt, are you listening?”
Kurt had not been listening. “What?”
“I said, and that’s when the real embarrassment came because Sam told me that he knew who my guilty pleasure was.”
Oh. “Blaine, that’s. . .god, what did he say? Are you, um, ok?” He pulled the pillow closer and gripped the phone a little tighter. Sam wasn’t the kind of person to flip out on people, but the way Blaine had been talking about Sam’s ass last week made it pretty clear that he wasn’t hiding his affections that well.
But Blaine just laughed, and Kurt could picture him blushing beside him, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He always shook his head when he laughed like this, and fanned his eyelashes across his cheek.
“I’m fine. He was cool about it. He even fell for the breath mints excuse. Which totally worked, by the way.”
Something gripped Kurt hard in his stomach. You mean there was a reason for pulling the breath mint excuse? “Oh?”
And then it was quiet for a moment. “Well, yeah. I mean, come on Kurt. You and I both know how tight those arms can hold you. And he always smells like Axe body spray. Do you think he used that when he stripped-”
“I really don’t know,” Kurt replied, schooling his face into a forced smile, and ignoring the phantom warmth he was feeling (that had absolutely nothing to do with Blaine AT all). He rolled over and took the phone off speakerphone. “But I’m glad Sam was cool about it. Come to think of it, I’m really not that surprised. He was always so accepting about everything.”
“And those lips, Kurt. Don’t even get me started-”
“OK, Blaine.” Bruce was now on the floor, and Kurt curled up against his headboard, hands drawing up his knees and lip firmly being chewed. Yes, Sam’s lips were disgustingly plump and surely as soft as snowflakes. . .
“Kurt? Are you still there?”
“Yeah.” Blaine was daydreaming about Sam’s lips, and Kurt wanted to be a good friend and gush with him. Because it’s what good friends do, and that’s all they are now. Good friends.
“Good, because I wanted to talk about how Sam got us all to dress up as Abba, and sing ‘Mamma Mia.’ Turns out Barry Manilow wasn’t his only guilty pleasure.”
He leaned forward on the bed. “Oh, my god, I love that song! Rachel was just singing it yesterday because we were letting her work out her Brody-the-man-whore issues-”
“Yeah, so it was awesome. We brought out hula hoops and everything, just like in the-”
“Yeah, us too!” Kurt replied, eyeing Bruce on the floor now, and realizing how lonely he must be down there. He grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him back around himself as he pressed the speaker button again.
“It reminded me of that one time we watched it together on the couch and ended up burning the cupcakes.”
Kurt smirked. “Because we couldn’t come up for air in time and you forgot to set the timer.”
“I couldn’t help that I was distracted by your arms and how naked they were in that muscle shirt-” The flirty tone he heard in Blaine’s voice did not make him feel any better.
“I can’t believe you ever talked me into wearing that. Whoever thought that you were into neon green and that I would even touch it with a ten foot pole-”
Blaine laughed his squeaky laugh again, and Kurt’s heart spilled out of his chest. That laugh was as familiar to him as the faded Dalton sweatshirt in his top drawer that he took from Blaine’s closet. As comfortable as this banter between them while reminiscing about last year. As vivid as the memory of his skin and the way his ass had grinded right up against his thigh on that couch just when the song had begun in the movie -
A small sigh escaped his lips.. There was only silence on the line, and Kurt wondered if Blaine was thinking about it too. How it had been the first time they had really let go and sunk each other’s hands into their shorts that summer and embraced the way the heat spread and burst in a combined rush of yes and oh god right there.
“Blaine.”
“Yeah Kurt?” His voice sounded normal, but Kurt knew that Blaine could put that polite salve on anything when there was a risk of someone being uncomfortable.
It made him feel like a deflated balloon when he realized it meant Blaine was blocking him out a bit. For his own good, of course.
Because they were friends. Right?
“Blaine,” he began, feeling each word stick to the roof of his mouth a bit. “do you still think about it-”
“Of course I do-”
“Even in the face of Trouty Mouth and his amazing lips?”
Blaine’s laughter was real again, and for a moment, Bruce melted away, and Blaine returned to pull Kurt into his arms.
“Even with his amazing luscious lips. Kurt, the um. The song I sang was about you.”
“The Wham?”
“No, silly. The Phil Collins.”
“Oh.” Of course he knew that. It wasn’t too difficult to put together when you think about the lyrics. “But you said you sang it to Sam.” And that made sense, because Blaine was always so melodramatic.
“Well yeah, but the song was always about you.”
“Okay, that doesn’t make sense.”
More silence. And then a deep breath. “He helps me forget about you.”
Mamma Mia, here I go again. . .
“Oh,” he nuzzled his cheek into the crook of Blaine’s (no, Bruce’s) arm. Too bad he didn’t still have one of Blaine’s henleys to cut up. It would have been therapeutic.
“Yeah, oh.” The silence lingered for a moment, and Kurt felt like he was waiting for a moment.
Instead, Blaine cleared his throat and said, “So, um, what are your guilty pleasures?”
I’m holding onto one. “What? You know all of them.”
Blaine scoffed. “Well, yeah. I know your propensity for watching infomercials when you can’t sleep and how many different types of foot cream you have, and how you put Vaseline on your-“
“It’s a natural lubricant,” he butted in, face blushing.
“No, I mean now. What are your newest guilty pleasures? Tell me one I don’t know about.”
Kurt thought, stretching his toes out on the bed.
Richard Simmons? A strong affinity for curly haired men in short shorts?
Not new.
Golden Girls? SO not a guilty pleasure. What self-respecting gay man doesn’t watch that show?
He squeezed Bruce, and almost laughed aloud. Hell no. No way in hell. Hell to the no. No, no, hell could freeze over and still no.
Oh god.
“Come What May.” I still think about you in a tux singing to me on a rooftop and telling me how you’ll love me to my dying day.
“Kurt?”
“Fine. There’s something from last week when I was snowed in the apartment with Adam-“
Heavy silence.
Oh shit. Abort.
“Uh-huh?”
He swallowed and tried not to squeak it out. “And we decided to watch-“
But Blaine interrupted. “Oh, damn. Kurt, that’s Sam. I have to take this. We’re supposed to figure out what to do on Monday if Mr. Schue is still sick-“
He bit back his disappointment. “No, no it’s cool. Don’t worry. We’ll talk again soon, ok?”
“Ok. I’m totally finding out your guilty pleasure, though ok?”
Kurt’s heart warmed again. “Okay.” He hung up the phone and sighed, pulling Bruce (welcome back, my beloved) under the covers with him, and squeezing his eyes shut.
The pleasure could remain guilty for another night.
Why why did I ever let you go?
Read the sequel, Come Today (not just what may)