Glee!fic, Unscripted: Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover
Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover from the Unscriptedverse (and no it is not a break-up fic; they already put all the effort into breaking up they'll ever bother with in this universe.)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Fanficcer. ffs.
Rating: NC-17, but only briefly.
Spoilers: The vaguest of them for Big Brother, otherwise we're pretty much AU by the end of season two anyway, so.
Summary: One front door, and fifty different ways to walk through it.
Note: I seriously wanted to get this project out of the way because it has eaten *so* much of my life, with *three* deadlines at the end of next week, oh my god. The idea popped into my head one day and I thought, Oh, that would be cute. and when I actually sat down and started writing it it somehow didn't occur to me that I had to write fifty pieces, however short they were. Just for the record, dear, that is only nineteen less than your 69 Love Stories thing, and remember how long *that* took you? Yeah. Clever girl.
But, I really did want to write this, it plays on a lot of stuff I really like about fanfiction. Like, one, accumulation: you *could* do that with a normal novel but people tend not to. But you can tell one big story, quite a dense complex detailed one, by simply building up masses and masses of tiny little stories. Fanfic does this so much better than original fiction tends to, and I think it's something we should utilise because we can, basically. And two, restriction, which don't let anyone *ever* tells you kills creativity, what the hell, most of my favourite poems are either haiku or sonnets, restriction is a whetstone to creativity's edge. When I think my brain's gone dry I put up some fences and watch it, infuriated, try to find inventive ways around them. It's good for you. Like crosswords and vitamin B.
Finally, my parents recently celebrated their thirty-oddth wedding anniversary. They're still, when they want to be, stupidly adorable together. So while I may be incapable of managing my own relationships, I have had the opportunity to observe some people who are clearly very good at it, and I learned some tips about what you do to make it work if you mean it. So after all that, if anyone is still reading, fic! ^^;
1.
"Coffee," Blaine reads, pulling a shoe on one handed in the doorway. "Miso paste, butternut squash, bagels, oven cleaner, condoms."
"Olive oil," Kurt says, closing a cupboard in the kitchen and walking over.
Blaine kicks the shoe straight on his heel, puts the slip of paper on the little table next to the door, scribbles on the new addition, clicks the pen off and drops it back into Kurt's dish of Useful Things To Have By The Door. "We make the best shopping lists," he says, lifting his head to meet Kurt's kiss. "I'll be twenty minutes."
"I love you."
"Love you too!"
The bloom of Kurt's smile as Blaine closes the door makes Blaine's own smile come suddenly warm, and he heads off to the store with a song in his head and a shopping list in his hand, and a welcome back kiss to look forward to too.
2.
"You don't get a goodbye kiss, I'm not talking to you."
"I was only looking!"
Kurt swings his bag onto his shoulder. "On eBay! Why were you looking at them on eBay?"
"I was just looking! I didn't know how much they went for-"
"I am telling you now," Kurt says, hip cocked, one finger raised, holding the strap of his satchel with his elbow jagged, every angle of his body a no, "if you buy bagpipes, Blaine, you are finding a new apartment with a single bed in it, do you understand me?"
Blaine says, "I was only looking," and scuffs at the edge of a rug with his toes. "I like you better than bagpipes."
Kurt narrows his eyes. "Well, I'm glad of that at least."
Blaine takes the opportunity for a sneak kiss attack, catching Kurt's face in his hands and making that triumphant mwah noise as he does. "I love you much more than bagpipes."
"I love you much more than bagpipes too. That's the problem."
Blaine laughs out loud, kisses him again and says, "I'll see you later."
"Behave. I will be checking your internet history."
"I'll make sure to leave interesting stuff on there for you."
"Hmm."
"I love you."
"I love you too," Kurt murmurs, and lets the slamming door cut off his husband's evil, evil, far too happy grin.
3.
Shifting noises, the bed is cold. Blaine tries to prise his eyelids up, tries to lift his dragging head and a hand settles in his hair, palm pressing gentle to the back of his neck. "Don't wake up, you're on nights."
Blaine isn't sure what he's trying to say anyway, but it comes out into the pillow as, "Mmfhumnuh?"
"Go back to sleep. I'll see you later." A kiss on the side of his forehead, and the covers lift and smooth over his shoulders. "I love you."
Clean tap of footsteps, a door creaks and closes.
Sleep.
4.
"Right, I'm off to get killed on stage for the entertainment of a bunch of cynical New Yorkers." Kurt breezes out of the bedroom and Blaine looks up from the sofa, where he's lying with his knees hooked over the arm and feet dangling, remote resting on his chest. "I'll see you later."
Blaine lifts his head a little awkwardly to accept a kiss and catches the remote as it slips for the floor. "Break everyone's legs."
The laugh snorts helplessly from Kurt as he heads for the doorway, glancing back to Blaine's smile, rolling his eyes as he opens the door. "I love you, don't wait up!"
5.
His hair in the mirror by the door is a disaster. "Oh god I'm late oh god I'm late -"
"Not my fault," Kurt purrs from the bedroom doorway, wearing a pyjama shirt and a satisfied smirk, his hair sculpted high by Blaine's grabby hands.
"It so is your fault, you need to find a way -" Blaine claws his fingers repeatedly back through his hair and tries to stuff his feet into his shoes through toe-power alone - "to control your insane hotness, it is actually ruining my life."
"No it's not." Kurt says, flashing a hand underneath the kitchen tap, slinking over to drag his hands through Blaine's hair a couple of times until it at least lays back a little. "Love you," he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to the back of Blaine's neck, nose settling into his hair. Blaine stares at the ceiling and it is insane that twenty minutes late to leave the building, five minutes after they just finished, he already wants to again.
He whines, "Sex makes you evil."
Kurt says warm to the back of his neck, "No it doesn't." and kisses his skin again, a slow press-and-pull of lips, Blaine could choke. Kurt breathes over his neck, "See you tonight." and opens the door for him, puts his helmet into his arms. "I love you. Drive safely."
"Evil," Blaine says, staring at him.
Kurt pushes him out of the doorway. "Go save lives, Blaine."
The door clicks closed behind him. Blaine stares at the helmet, stares at the hallway, stares at their door. He feels wound up tight and left naked and exposed and entirely, entirely lost.
Evil.
6.
"And I miss your ginger hair, and the way you like to dress-"
He climbs onto the sofa because when he dances on the floorboards, neighbours get pissed. "Why don't you come on over, stop making a fool out of me -"
Moonwalking on a sofa is hard.
"Why don't you come on over, Valerie . . ."
He claps his hands, spins on the cushions, notices Kurt standing there with his phone raised, eyes speculative and amused on the screen. Blaine says, "What are you doing?" but he doesn't stop dancing.
"Getting something to cheer myself up with at random points throughout the day." Kurt turns the camera off, and slips the phone into his pocket. He leans up as Blaine leans down, catching his jaw for the kiss. "See you later, I love you."
"Love you too," Blaine says, and suffers a brief pang of how much better this would be if Kurt could not go to work and just dance on the sofa with him instead, but Kurt's hand runs down his arm and his fingers slip cool over the skin of his hand, and then he's walking for the door - god, may he never get over wearing tight pants - and the next song's coming on shuffle anyway.
"There's a fire, starting in my heart-"
He hears Kurt's snort of laughter and the door closing, and then it's just him and the music.
7.
Hey beautiful,
I didn't want to wake you up, you looked like you were dreaming something good, so this is your goodbye kiss. MWAH.
See you tonight xxxxx
P.S. I finished the milk, sorry!
8.
"Take the subway."
"Kurt, it's fine."
"Take the subway."
"They grit the roads."
"It's sleeting out there, how can you even want to take that stupid scooter? Take a bus, I don't care, just-"
He catches Kurt's face and kisses him but Kurt only blinks, and doesn't even loosen his mouth. Blaine says, "I am a very safe driver."
"I grew up in a garage, do you think I don't - Blaine take the subway take the damn subway don't make me wrestle you for the keys just-"
It's sort of pointless Blaine trying to hold the keys out of Kurt's reach, and when his voice gets high and twists Blaine's fingers go loose anyway and Kurt snatches them out. "Are you - really upset about -?"
Kurt blinks, hard and fast and angry, Blaine suspects mostly at himself for being so close to tears already. "New York traffic at the best of times I have my heart in my throat," he says, shaking and rough. "It's snowed for three days and I am not being your fucking widower at twenty-five, Blaine."
Blaine's still for a moment, then rubs Kurt's arms a little, his muscles all too tight like a cornered cat's, keys clenched distrustfully close. "I'll take the bus," he says soothingly. "Okay? I'll take the bus. It'll be nice to still have feeling in my face when I get to the hospital anyway. I'll take the bus. Okay, Kurt. Okay."
Kurt shivers, sags, drops his head and says into his shoulder, "I hate you."
"I know you do." Blaine kisses the top of his head. "I have to go, I'll be late anyway. I'll see you tonight, okay?"
"I hate you."
"I love you too." He rubs his back a little, says, "Can I have my keys so I can get back in the apartment this evening?"
Kurt looks at him with far too much behind his eyes, then holds the keys out. Blaine kisses him, unsettled, and says again, "I'll see you tonight."
As he opens the door Kurt says, "I love you."
Blaine puts a smile on. "Tell me that again tonight when I come in smelling of public transport."
He's almost smiling as Blaine closes the door. It makes the day at least look bearable.
9.
Blaine takes the tupperware out of the fridge and it has a post-it stuck to it saying, Don't open me before lunch, I have a surprise inside!
He glances over his shoulder, where Kurt is watering the herbs on the windowsill, and sneaks his fingers underneath the lid.
"Don't open that."
His shoulders cringe, and he shuffles around to face his husband. "Not even a peek?"
"Where is the point of surprises if you ruin them?"
"But I'll find out what the surprise is eventually, so why not now?"
Kurt walks into the kitchen cubby and puts the watering can in the sink. "Because I asked you not to and I'm your husband and you want to make me happy the way I want to make you happy, so you won't."
"Don't do the pout."
"It would make me unhappy if you spoiled it, Blaine."
"Don't do the pout!"
Kurt ruins it by laughing, anyway. He kisses him, taps the lid of the box and says, "I will know if you spoil it." and pushes him for the doorway. "Have a good day."
Blaine catches his tie to catch another kiss before he snags up his helmet. "I won't spoil it."
"I know. Thank you."
One more kiss, and the door swinging open. "I love you."
"Love you too. See you later."
He'll think up a surprise to bring home with him, just to make it even.
To make it super-even, he'll let Kurt know that there will be a surprise just after lunch, he's not the only impatient one in this marriage . . .
10.
Kurt rubs an eye, says, "I hate when you work nights."
"Me too. The hardships of being a junior doctor." He slips his arms inside Kurt's open robe, hugs his warm hard sides. "Go get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning."
Kurt's foot presses over his, nuzzling like he's trying to just touch as much of Blaine as possible, tipping his head to rest his cheek on Blaine's shoulder. "Hate when you work nights. Hardly see you."
"I know. I'm sorry." He's all warm and sleepy like a kitten and oh god Blaine does not want to go to that hospital right now. He swallows, and rubs Kurt's sides through his pyjamas some more, and says to his cheek, "So go back to bed, and go to sleep, and you won't even notice the time going until I'm back again."
"'Kay," Kurt says, and half-stifles a yawn. "Mn. Have a good - night."
Blaine kisses him. "You too. Sleep well."
"Love you."
"I love you too."
Kurt holds the door behind him, so when Blaine looks back, there's Kurt's eye in the gap, drowsy dark blue, and the sleepy warm twitch of his smile.
11.
Kurt's palm rubs his shoulder blade as Blaine's tying his shoelace before he heads back for the kitchen, slow Sunday sway in his step, cup of coffee in hand. "Make it a quick one, I want to catch that movie at twelve."
Blaine stands up, pops his headphones in already skimming to the right song. "Will do. See you later!"
Kurt says something, moving mouth not remotely matching Blaine's current audio of, You belong to the gang, and you say you can't break away. He pulls one earpiece out. "What?"
Kurt takes a sip of coffee, elbows leaning on the counter and cupping his mug in both lazy hands. "I said 'I love you', you dinkus."
Blaine grins and sings, "I love you too!", pushing the earpiece back in and blowing Kurt an exaggerated air kiss (So await for the stone on your window, your window), as Kurt rolls his eyes and smiles and drinks more coffee. Blaine opens the door, and manages at least not singing out loud until he's out of the building and building up speed down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians, aiming for the park.
"And I swear to the stars, I'll burn this whole city down -"
Looking like a crazy person on a Sunday morning, running like a loon with headphones in and the music turned up loud: life is good.
12.
Kurt holds his elbows in his hands, cold this close to the window. He says, "It rains because the universe doesn't want me to have perfect hair and be happy."
"The universe is a cruel and soulless place," Blaine agrees from the sofa, legs kicked out on the coffee table and laptop in, indeed, lap. "Would you like to see a picture of a really happy corgi?"
The rain chuckles sadistically down the guttering, and Kurt's hair really is perfect tonight, too. "Exactly how happy is this corgi?"
"Probably the happiest corgi in the whole wide world. And Kurt, corgis are pretty damn happy at the best of times. This corgi, it could end wars with its happiness. It could turn back floods. It could make Cruella de Vil want to be a better person."
"Well it might get halfway there with me, then." Kurt murmurs listlessly, and walks to the back of the sofa, slumps over it and settles his arms around Blaine's shoulders. Blaine tilts the screen back, beams expectantly. Rain throws itself with sudden glee at the window and Kurt sighs, slowly.
"Isn't he great?" Blaine says.
"It's a really happy corgi, Blaine."
"You know how you said this apartment's too small for a dog?"
"We're not getting a corgi, Blaine."
"The royal family has corgis," Blaine says wheedlingly, and Kurt ducks his face behind Blaine's hair to hide the smile growing there; his husband knows him too well.
"We're not getting a corgi now." He kisses the back of Blaine's head. "I'm going to work. Behave. Adopt no dogs until I get back."
Blaine puts the laptop to one side and turns on the sofa as Kurt walks to the coatstand for his jacket. "But we can adopt dogs when you get back?"
Kurt pulls his jacket straight. "You'll be asleep when I get back."
Blaine props his chin off his arm along the sofa's back. "I'll be dreaming of corgis," he says, and Kurt flicks him a smile, picks up his umbrella. "I hope it's a great show. Break a leg."
"I'll see you later. I love you."
"I love you too," Blaine sings, and as the door closes Kurt hears, "I love you and corgis!"
He swings his umbrella, trying to fight the smile down.
13.
Kurt wakes up alone in the bed, and blinks.
It's light behind the blinds. He can hear traffic. He turns his head and looks across the empty, Blaineless expanse of sheets for the alarm clock, which has always been more necessary on Blaine's side than his; ten seventeen.
He closes his eyes for another moment, then picks himself up.
The play's been hell, a chaos of set designs that turned out unworkable and costumes Kurt's not comfortable in and apparently he doesn't play characters how Rico envisaged them when he came up with the costume and apparently it's his job to play to the costume rather than the other way around, which is just such a giant steaming pile of you're not the one on stage doing this Rico and Kurt has no idea what the other side of that argument was, it being in Italian. Sean's been moody and difficult. Samuel went quiet and strangely harsh, not liking the atmosphere. John very nearly lost his mind. And then -
And then last night they killed it. Kurt could feel the empty space of the audience drinking it in, needing it. Last night he tasted the silence of the audience in his breath, filling the space around their bodies, clasping the pause before their words. One of those nights when the words were always true. One of those nights when they weren't on stage: they were the world, and everything outside that theatre was tired and overscripted and done already and only they were real, only them, only their voices, in all the wordless world.
And then he came home too buzzed to sleep and ended up staring at Blaine's sleeping face for two solid hours, quietly wondering at the world inside a human body, bigger than the oceans. Blaine's breath and his low eyelashes, and Kurt had had to close his hands not to touch him, wake him, because he wanted to know. To know -?
"Everything," he murmurs to the empty apartment, pulling a robe on and stretching long, and padding through into the lounge. Nearly nine years, he still doesn't know all of Blaine and Blaine's mind, everything, enthralling enigmatic boy-man with a capacity like a star for joy, and worry. But -
Coffee before crazed theories of humanity. He always feels like hell the day after a play, and hell he has to do it all over again tonight . . .
Blaine's left the Scrabble box open on the coffee table, which Kurt glances at but doesn't question as he heads for the kitchen cubby, Blaine is easily distracted and has a thousand fun ideas a minute and probably forgot he'd ever got it out once he realised that Kurt was still asleep and Blaine doesn't actually have the time for a game of Scrabble before work. It's only turning to get behind the kitchen counter that he spots it, and cranes his neck back to get a better look.
Stuck to the back of the front door is the legend
I
LOVE
YOU
in Scrabble tiles.
Fourteen points, Kurt notes, biting his lip, looking away like he's embarrassed in his own empty apartment.
He puts some coffee on to brew, shakes the box of letters a little, finds the blu-tack on the table by the door. He adds his contribution, takes a photograph and hits send. Then he goes to rescue his coffee, the smile unshakeably in place now, and sits in the window, watching the cars and people go by, sharing some quality time with his plants.
Blaine texts back, Seventeen points. You win!
Kurt rubs an eye, and smiles, and replies, You get a double word score for sincerity.
(I
LOVE
YOU
TOO)
14.
Blaine is so tense now he needs to hit something, and that realisation snaps his head to the side like he can't look at Kurt when he thinks that. He spits, "I'm going to work." and Kurt just stands there, staring at him, while he stalks to the doorway to pull on his shoes.
Kurt says, "Blaine,"
It's like a match hit the gas. "I can't believe you're doing this, I can't believe you're not my side-"
The look Kurt is giving him just turned up a whole extra dozen what the fuck notches. "What part of this is about-"
"You always take his side! What the hell ever happened to supporting me-"
"Supporting your family is supporting you you-"
"I'm not putting up with his bullshit and you picking my brother over me." Blaine yanks the door open too hard, and it hits the corner of the table, and fury at the pathetic size of the apartment strikes irrationally hard, he wants to kick it, kick the whole damn building-
"All I'm asking you to do is call him-"
"He never listens to me!"
"Maybe if you listened to him you'd work out why!"
"Well maybe for once you shouldn't act like some pompous patronizing saint-"
He sees Kurt's eyes, just before too much momentum slams the door shut.
14.
Kurt's body is snug to his, Kurt's forehead to his shoulder, hair under his cheek. He doesn't want to move from this sofa, doesn't want to unfold his arms, but he can hear the clock ticking disapprovingly and god knows he's already fucked up enough today and it's not even nine o' clock yet. He lifts his head a little, kisses the top of Kurt's head, murmurs, "I'm going to be really late."
Kurt sniffs a little as he sits up, and Blaine rubs at his shoulder and down his back as Kurt quickly pats his sleeve at his eyes. "Okay," he whispers, and smiles, and Blaine's heart just breaks every time, he feels like he needs to be on the floor on his knees with his head on Kurt's feet, he can't bear -
"Don't look like that," Kurt says, cupping his face, thumbs running over his cheeks. "It's okay, Blaine. You have to go to work."
"I'll call him tonight." he promises, folding his arms around Kurt's back again, swaying him a little with the hug. God, to get into a fight like this because of Cooper, fuck. Sometimes Blaine feels like even alone in his apartment with Kurt he's still trying to deal with Cooper being the centre of attention. "Okay? I'll call him tonight, and then I'll, you know, be really sorry some more."
Kurt whispers, "Don't be sorry." and holds his face to kiss him again.
Because Kurt's kiss makes things better, like it reminds Blaine how to breathe. It's genuinely magic like that.
Kurt breaks back, licks his lips, holds Blaine's eye close. "He's not you. He doesn't have everything you have. He knows that, Blaine."
Kurt's body in his arms and Kurt's eyes on his, would Blaine want Cooper's life if he knew his own was here? He swallows, and nods, and Kurt's smile is all sad when he kisses him again. "Go to work, Dr Anderson. You're going to be late."
"I love you."
"I love you too. You know I do."
Blaine stands up but doesn't let go of Kurt's hands so Kurt comes with him, walks to the door with him, opens the latch for him and hands him his helmet with one hand, while Blaine shucks his bag over his shoulder again. "I'll see you tonight."
"I love you," Blaine says, again; it just falls out of him.
Kurt neatens the collar of his jacket and says to it, "You're the best man I've ever known and I married you because I want to be near you for the rest of both our lives." He looks up to Blaine's eyes, and presses his hand over his chest where his heart beats low and heavy. "You know I love you." He nods his head to the door. "Now go to work before you get fired so I can keep on bragging to my friends about being married to a doctor."
"I love you."
"I know you do." Kurt lowers his head for the kiss, and his hand slides slowly from Blaine's as he steps out of the apartment. "I'll see you tonight, Blaine."
He might bring flowers back, he will definitely bring kisses. They'll make love on that bed and afterwards Blaine will lay listening to Kurt's heart while he strokes Blaine's hair, and Blaine will say, will try to say, Sometimes I feel like. Like.
. . . well. He's got all day to work that out.
15.
Blaine grabs up his bag, his helmet, his guitar case and some straps for attaching it to the scooter, and hikes it all higher in his arms. "Hey, can you get the door for me?"
Kurt grabs a waffle as it pops out of the toaster and walks over humming along with the radio. He says, "Open." and Blaine obediently does, so Kurt can pop the waffle into his mouth, put his lunch into his helmet, kiss his forehead and open the door. "Have a good day."
Around the waffle in his teeth it mostly comes out as, "Vf ou!"
"Love you too," Kurt says, eyes all bright and amused as he closes the door behind him.
16.
Kurt breathes, "I have to go."
Blaine's got his hand in underneath his shirt now, base of his thumb held hard to Kurt's hipbone sharp under the skin, spread fingers pressing his back. He says, "No." and drags his teeth down the skin of Kurt's shoulder again, a sudden firmer press in his flesh and Kurt's whole body jolts its long length against his.
Kurt gasps at the ceiling, "Blaine if you give me a hickey before a play I will kill you and sell your body to science."
Blaine's voice has got all low and tangled in his chest. "Want you so bad."
"If you want me bad enough you'll wait," Kurt snaps, then groans as one of Blaine's hands gets his ass off the wall with a hard inward squeeze, clamping Kurt's leg between his. "Blaine, Blaine, I have a play, I can't be late -"
Blaine huffs over his breastbone, "Want to blow you on the coffee table."
"Okay." Kurt's palm on his forehead forces Blaine's head back to arm's length, if the lower half of his body is still clinging to Kurt's like his skinny jeans. "This is me leaving the apartment. This is what me leaving the apartment looks like. Stop doing that."
He's trying to clamp Kurt's knee in between his so he can't escape. Kurt wriggles it half free and bursts into frustrated laughter, and Blaine's sort of more enjoying the game more than his semi-erection by this point too. "Kuuuurrt don't go I'll die."
"You will not die, get off me you - caveman -"
"I will die of lack of sex."
"You will never die of lack of sex," Kurt says derisively, and finally manages to pull his leg out from between Blaine's, slipping around Blaine's back rather than dodging immediately to the side. Blaine tries to grab after him but turning with him he's dizzy; lack of blood to the head, he thinks, slapping a hand to his forehead.
Kurt's pulling a jacket on and opening the door at the same time. "Behave until I get back!"
"You can't leave me like this!" Blaine says, scrambling after him and catching the door before it can swing closed behind Kurt's back. "Kurt, you can't leave me like this! I'll start humping the furniture!"
Kurt spins to walk backwards down the corridor, hand clamped over his mouth in horror, eyes alive with laughter. "Ssshh oh my god the neighbours-"
"Come back soon," Blaine says, hugging the door as he pouts around it, and Kurt rolls his delighted eyes to the ceiling.
"Soon as I can. Have the coffee table clear."
"I love you!"
"Love you too!"
Their downstairs neighbour begins banging on his ceiling. Blaine explodes the laughter into his own bent arm, and once Kurt's down the staircase with a wicked little wave, he closes the door behind him.
17.
Blaine says, "It's worth a whole trip to the store just for mint?"
Kurt, one arm in the sleeve of his jacket, looks at Blaine like he just asked why they don't set fire to the sofa. "I'll be ten minutes. Don't touch anything."
Blaine glances at the half-constructed curry taking up their entire kitchen, and figures he can maybe get away with eating some of the pepper without Kurt noticing. "Okay. Love you!"
"Love you too!" Kurt calls breezily, as the door bangs closed.
18.
Blaine hurries around the apartment getting himself together for work; Kurt still hasn't moved from beside the cage.
"You got me birds."
"I have to go to work, Dr Mary will have my ass."
"You got me birds."
"Happy birthday." Blaine kisses his cheek, tips his head to admire the birds again, two small chirping finches side by side. "Have an awesome day 'til I get back."
"You got me birds."
". . . I take it you like them?"
"I love you," Kurt says, slipping his arms over Blaine's shoulders, kissing him hard and happy. "Oh my god how did you even hide them from me-?"
"Mrs Capek took them last night. You do like them, right?"
"Blaine." Kurt shakes him side to side in the hug. "You got me birds."
He grins. "I'll see you tonight, okay?" He wiggles a finger at the bars, and bright small eyes watch him. "Be nice to him, it's his birthday."
"I love you," Kurt says, fervently.
"I love you too," Blaine says, and those birds might as well get used to the sight of them making out around the cage already anyway.
So maybe he'll be a little late in today. It's Kurt's birthday.
In the doorway Kurt says, "You got me birds."
"Tell me their names when I get back? They're both guys, I didn't know if we were responsible enough to raise an egg yet."
Kurt says, "You got me birds." and kisses him again, and when Blaine finally does close the door he hears the excited burst of wordless sound behind it, Kurt moved beyond even his eighteenth you got me birds.
He grins pretty much the whole way to work.
19.
"I am on my way, I am walking up to the door right now, you hear that? That is me opening the door, this is me leaving the apartment -"
Blaine catches his arm and Kurt pulls the phone from his ear in sheer surprise, as Blaine presses him into the table and gives him a long, hard, heartfelt goodbye kiss.
From the phone comes the aggravated sound of John's patience.
Eventually Kurt stares at Blaine's face, then blinks a couple of times. He lifts the phone to his ear again.
"Leaving my apartment," he says a little raspily, then clears his throat. "Leaving it now. Get off my back, I am on my way."
Blaine smiles, and watches from the doorway as Kurt's pants cling to his stride that wonderful way they do.
"What you hear is me walking out of my apartment, why are you this completely anal, you should not be doing this job if you're so susceptible to stress, you will give yourself a heart attack and believe me none of us want that, John. That was me being sincere! God, like you're a better actor than me. This sound you now hear is me walking down the staircase, do you like the busy sound of me making my way to your ridiculous rehearsal on a Sunday you sadist?"
Blaine closes the door behind him, and decides it's a Katamari kind of day.
20.
Blaine rubs his hair, checks the sun climbing outside the window. He stands up from the sofa and says loud enough to carry to the next room, "I think I'll go for a run."
Kurt walks in from the bathroom smelling of that new moisturiser like honey clinging to his skin. He leans to peer in at the finches and smiles, and says contemplatively, "I feel really inexplicably horny today."
Blaine says nothing. Kurt smiles for the finches, and walks back into the bedroom.
Blaine says nothing, and one of the finches trills a little song.
Blaine does not put his sneakers on.
20.
The door opens and Kurt yelps, scrambling back out of the way and nearly dropping his keys, and Blaine blinks in at him bewildered before he settles into a sigh, a tilted smile. "Play?"
"Play," Kurt confirms, and kisses him as Blaine shuffles in around him. "How was the hospital?"
"God. Tiring."
"Get some rest, I'll see you later." Kurt holds the lapels of his coat while Blaine presses his forehead to his, his arms a comfortable hug around his shoulders. "I love you."
"I love you too. Go be amazing."
Kurt gives him a quick sorry smile and heads down the hallway, hearing the door click closed again behind him.
21.
Kurt's being angry at the news when Blaine leans up, kisses him half on his mouth and half on his cheek, sings, "Love you, see you later!" and heads for the door. Kurt keeps on standing there by the window, glaring at the TV, but he lifts his head a little to murmur, "I love you too," before the door bangs closed.
He takes a sip of coffee. And, cutting through his blackened-sky rage at the morning news, is knowledge of Blaine like a sunflower coming open in the back of his mind.
There are two awkward knocks at the door.
Kurt walks over, puts down his coffee and picks up Blaine's keys from the table. He opens the latch and smiles out at him, dangling the keys high. "See you tonight?"
Blaine grins, holding a hand out for Kurt to drop the keys into. "Have a great day."
"You too. Save lives." Kurt kisses him, and Blaine heads off humming for the stairs. Kurt closes the door, and gives a little sigh, and picks up his coffee again. Then he goes to glare at the news some more, until people stop being stupid just because it pisses him off so much.
22.
Blaine hurries through from the bedroom for the door and before he can open his mouth Kurt snips the last thread and calls, "Here." as if to a recalcitrant dog.
"Wh- I have to go to work."
"Here, Blaine." Kurt says, standing up and shaking the pants out. "I have to check the length."
Blaine stands there scowling. "I didn't even need them taking up."
"Your near faceplant into that streetlight last night says different. Now come over here and stop being five."
Blaine drags his feet over and Kurt rolls his eyes, then holds the waistband to the waistband of the pants he's currently wearing, and contemplates how low the leg falls; the hem now sits neatly on his ankle. "Perfect," Blaine says sarcastically.
"Of course they're perfect. They are now tailored exactly to you, and you are perfect. You ungrateful brute." Kurt folds the pants over his arm and kisses him. "Go to work while I sit at home hemming your pants and cooking your dinner and never being appreciated for all I do, then."
Blaine sighs, and puts a hand on the back of Kurt's neck, and kisses him that long slow way, Kurt's hands go strange and strengthless on Blaine's arms. He doesn't know how long the kiss lasts. Until his head's come through the clouds and gone entirely clear, an ice-blue plateau of clarity where as if for the first time in his life he understands again, again, this is all that matters in the world.
"Thank you," Blaine says to Kurt's mouth, while Kurt's knees are still unsure of why they're standing. "They're perfect, you're amazing, and you know you are. I'll see you tonight."
A little lost by how much it overwhelms him still sometimes, dropped out of him like a lost breath, "I love you."
Blaine's thumb and fingers are gently working into the hair at the back of his neck, and Kurt's whole body is now struggling with the concept of not falling over. "I love you too." Blaine leans in again and whispers, "Perfect." over his mouth before he kisses him again.
Kurt waits until he's out of the door to lean against the back of the sofa, hand over his mouth and the other gripping tight the newly taken up pants, dazedly working out the hours until Blaine is back in their bed again.
23.
Kurt comes out of the bathroom straightening his tie pin. "Does this work?"
Blaine's so surprised he stops playing Angry Birds on his back on the bed and looks up. "You're asking me?"
"No, Blaine, I'm asking that other stylish gay man I keep under the bed for just these occasions, does this work?"
Blaine almost just says, You're asking me? again only with a different inflection this time, and then he stops and sits up and starts being serious. Kurt squirms a bit, says, "Sometimes I don't know if other people actually know what I'm doing."
Blaine narrows his eyes at the outfit. He tries to think like Kurt.
He says, "Buttons."
And Kurt smiles, because if someone else can see the clean, contemporary silver points holding an otherwise drab and conservative outfit together, yes he is a genius. "I knew I married the right guy," he says, and leans down for his kiss. "I'll see you tonight, do you want anything picking up from the store?"
Blaine picks up his phone again. "A puppy?"
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that because you were doing so well until then. I love you! Bye Lennon, bye McCartney!"
A finch sings back, and Blaine calls, "I love you too!" before the door closes, then narrows his eyes and goes back to killing pigs. Buttons, clean points of light, bright silver like stars in the dark cuffs, that sharp silver tie pin, set off by those clean white Doc Martens; his husband is a genius. Also very sexy. Unfortunately disinclined to bring a dog into their shoebox sized apartment, but otherwise, perfect.
"You guys would like a dog for a friend, right?" he calls through the open bedroom doorway, and either Lennon or McCartney chirps back.
"Thought so," Blaine says, and his tongue presses between his teeth as he sets up a difficult shoot.
24.
"Late," Kurt says feverishly, scrabbling through a bedside drawer. "Late late late check the birds' water for me oh my god-"
'Late' does not mean that he doesn't find exactly the right cufflinks before he goes scrambling out of the room again. Blaine's just getting off the bed to follow him when he hears, "Love you bye!" and the front door opening, and he runs through yelping, "Wait wait wait you forgot something-!"
Kurt sticks his head back through the door, eyes all panicked, and Blaine throws his arms around his neck for the kiss.
He thumps back down to his heels and Kurt blinks at him, then says, "Thank you, it would have been terrible to forget that."
He's smiling a little dazedly, touching his hair to check it, then he skids around and runs for the staircase.
Blaine yells out of the door, "Don't break your neck!"
"If I scream," Kurt calls back, "I need a doctor!"
Blaine can hear him laughing even over the thudding of his boots on the stairs.
25.
"Short answer," Kurt says, "no, Truly Madly Deeply does not sound good on an accordion. The long answer I don't really have the time for if I'm getting to rehearsal today because I don't know what childhood trauma we would have to dig through to work out why your brain works the special way it does, Blaine." He leans down and kisses Blaine, sitting on the sofa with the snubbed accordion on his lap, and says, "I love you, play yourself crazy while I'm out."
Blaine squeezes an optimistic flowing scale out of it. "What about Your Body is a Wonderland?"
Kurt sings from the doorway, "Let's both pretend I didn't hear that!" and the door closes behind him.
Blaine mutters to the birds, "He has like, no taste in music."
26 - 50
Disclaimer: Not mine. Fanficcer. ffs.
Rating: NC-17, but only briefly.
Spoilers: The vaguest of them for Big Brother, otherwise we're pretty much AU by the end of season two anyway, so.
Summary: One front door, and fifty different ways to walk through it.
Note: I seriously wanted to get this project out of the way because it has eaten *so* much of my life, with *three* deadlines at the end of next week, oh my god. The idea popped into my head one day and I thought, Oh, that would be cute. and when I actually sat down and started writing it it somehow didn't occur to me that I had to write fifty pieces, however short they were. Just for the record, dear, that is only nineteen less than your 69 Love Stories thing, and remember how long *that* took you? Yeah. Clever girl.
But, I really did want to write this, it plays on a lot of stuff I really like about fanfiction. Like, one, accumulation: you *could* do that with a normal novel but people tend not to. But you can tell one big story, quite a dense complex detailed one, by simply building up masses and masses of tiny little stories. Fanfic does this so much better than original fiction tends to, and I think it's something we should utilise because we can, basically. And two, restriction, which don't let anyone *ever* tells you kills creativity, what the hell, most of my favourite poems are either haiku or sonnets, restriction is a whetstone to creativity's edge. When I think my brain's gone dry I put up some fences and watch it, infuriated, try to find inventive ways around them. It's good for you. Like crosswords and vitamin B.
Finally, my parents recently celebrated their thirty-oddth wedding anniversary. They're still, when they want to be, stupidly adorable together. So while I may be incapable of managing my own relationships, I have had the opportunity to observe some people who are clearly very good at it, and I learned some tips about what you do to make it work if you mean it. So after all that, if anyone is still reading, fic! ^^;
1.
"Coffee," Blaine reads, pulling a shoe on one handed in the doorway. "Miso paste, butternut squash, bagels, oven cleaner, condoms."
"Olive oil," Kurt says, closing a cupboard in the kitchen and walking over.
Blaine kicks the shoe straight on his heel, puts the slip of paper on the little table next to the door, scribbles on the new addition, clicks the pen off and drops it back into Kurt's dish of Useful Things To Have By The Door. "We make the best shopping lists," he says, lifting his head to meet Kurt's kiss. "I'll be twenty minutes."
"I love you."
"Love you too!"
The bloom of Kurt's smile as Blaine closes the door makes Blaine's own smile come suddenly warm, and he heads off to the store with a song in his head and a shopping list in his hand, and a welcome back kiss to look forward to too.
2.
"You don't get a goodbye kiss, I'm not talking to you."
"I was only looking!"
Kurt swings his bag onto his shoulder. "On eBay! Why were you looking at them on eBay?"
"I was just looking! I didn't know how much they went for-"
"I am telling you now," Kurt says, hip cocked, one finger raised, holding the strap of his satchel with his elbow jagged, every angle of his body a no, "if you buy bagpipes, Blaine, you are finding a new apartment with a single bed in it, do you understand me?"
Blaine says, "I was only looking," and scuffs at the edge of a rug with his toes. "I like you better than bagpipes."
Kurt narrows his eyes. "Well, I'm glad of that at least."
Blaine takes the opportunity for a sneak kiss attack, catching Kurt's face in his hands and making that triumphant mwah noise as he does. "I love you much more than bagpipes."
"I love you much more than bagpipes too. That's the problem."
Blaine laughs out loud, kisses him again and says, "I'll see you later."
"Behave. I will be checking your internet history."
"I'll make sure to leave interesting stuff on there for you."
"Hmm."
"I love you."
"I love you too," Kurt murmurs, and lets the slamming door cut off his husband's evil, evil, far too happy grin.
3.
Shifting noises, the bed is cold. Blaine tries to prise his eyelids up, tries to lift his dragging head and a hand settles in his hair, palm pressing gentle to the back of his neck. "Don't wake up, you're on nights."
Blaine isn't sure what he's trying to say anyway, but it comes out into the pillow as, "Mmfhumnuh?"
"Go back to sleep. I'll see you later." A kiss on the side of his forehead, and the covers lift and smooth over his shoulders. "I love you."
Clean tap of footsteps, a door creaks and closes.
Sleep.
4.
"Right, I'm off to get killed on stage for the entertainment of a bunch of cynical New Yorkers." Kurt breezes out of the bedroom and Blaine looks up from the sofa, where he's lying with his knees hooked over the arm and feet dangling, remote resting on his chest. "I'll see you later."
Blaine lifts his head a little awkwardly to accept a kiss and catches the remote as it slips for the floor. "Break everyone's legs."
The laugh snorts helplessly from Kurt as he heads for the doorway, glancing back to Blaine's smile, rolling his eyes as he opens the door. "I love you, don't wait up!"
5.
His hair in the mirror by the door is a disaster. "Oh god I'm late oh god I'm late -"
"Not my fault," Kurt purrs from the bedroom doorway, wearing a pyjama shirt and a satisfied smirk, his hair sculpted high by Blaine's grabby hands.
"It so is your fault, you need to find a way -" Blaine claws his fingers repeatedly back through his hair and tries to stuff his feet into his shoes through toe-power alone - "to control your insane hotness, it is actually ruining my life."
"No it's not." Kurt says, flashing a hand underneath the kitchen tap, slinking over to drag his hands through Blaine's hair a couple of times until it at least lays back a little. "Love you," he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to the back of Blaine's neck, nose settling into his hair. Blaine stares at the ceiling and it is insane that twenty minutes late to leave the building, five minutes after they just finished, he already wants to again.
He whines, "Sex makes you evil."
Kurt says warm to the back of his neck, "No it doesn't." and kisses his skin again, a slow press-and-pull of lips, Blaine could choke. Kurt breathes over his neck, "See you tonight." and opens the door for him, puts his helmet into his arms. "I love you. Drive safely."
"Evil," Blaine says, staring at him.
Kurt pushes him out of the doorway. "Go save lives, Blaine."
The door clicks closed behind him. Blaine stares at the helmet, stares at the hallway, stares at their door. He feels wound up tight and left naked and exposed and entirely, entirely lost.
Evil.
6.
"And I miss your ginger hair, and the way you like to dress-"
He climbs onto the sofa because when he dances on the floorboards, neighbours get pissed. "Why don't you come on over, stop making a fool out of me -"
Moonwalking on a sofa is hard.
"Why don't you come on over, Valerie . . ."
He claps his hands, spins on the cushions, notices Kurt standing there with his phone raised, eyes speculative and amused on the screen. Blaine says, "What are you doing?" but he doesn't stop dancing.
"Getting something to cheer myself up with at random points throughout the day." Kurt turns the camera off, and slips the phone into his pocket. He leans up as Blaine leans down, catching his jaw for the kiss. "See you later, I love you."
"Love you too," Blaine says, and suffers a brief pang of how much better this would be if Kurt could not go to work and just dance on the sofa with him instead, but Kurt's hand runs down his arm and his fingers slip cool over the skin of his hand, and then he's walking for the door - god, may he never get over wearing tight pants - and the next song's coming on shuffle anyway.
"There's a fire, starting in my heart-"
He hears Kurt's snort of laughter and the door closing, and then it's just him and the music.
7.
Hey beautiful,
I didn't want to wake you up, you looked like you were dreaming something good, so this is your goodbye kiss. MWAH.
See you tonight xxxxx
P.S. I finished the milk, sorry!
8.
"Take the subway."
"Kurt, it's fine."
"Take the subway."
"They grit the roads."
"It's sleeting out there, how can you even want to take that stupid scooter? Take a bus, I don't care, just-"
He catches Kurt's face and kisses him but Kurt only blinks, and doesn't even loosen his mouth. Blaine says, "I am a very safe driver."
"I grew up in a garage, do you think I don't - Blaine take the subway take the damn subway don't make me wrestle you for the keys just-"
It's sort of pointless Blaine trying to hold the keys out of Kurt's reach, and when his voice gets high and twists Blaine's fingers go loose anyway and Kurt snatches them out. "Are you - really upset about -?"
Kurt blinks, hard and fast and angry, Blaine suspects mostly at himself for being so close to tears already. "New York traffic at the best of times I have my heart in my throat," he says, shaking and rough. "It's snowed for three days and I am not being your fucking widower at twenty-five, Blaine."
Blaine's still for a moment, then rubs Kurt's arms a little, his muscles all too tight like a cornered cat's, keys clenched distrustfully close. "I'll take the bus," he says soothingly. "Okay? I'll take the bus. It'll be nice to still have feeling in my face when I get to the hospital anyway. I'll take the bus. Okay, Kurt. Okay."
Kurt shivers, sags, drops his head and says into his shoulder, "I hate you."
"I know you do." Blaine kisses the top of his head. "I have to go, I'll be late anyway. I'll see you tonight, okay?"
"I hate you."
"I love you too." He rubs his back a little, says, "Can I have my keys so I can get back in the apartment this evening?"
Kurt looks at him with far too much behind his eyes, then holds the keys out. Blaine kisses him, unsettled, and says again, "I'll see you tonight."
As he opens the door Kurt says, "I love you."
Blaine puts a smile on. "Tell me that again tonight when I come in smelling of public transport."
He's almost smiling as Blaine closes the door. It makes the day at least look bearable.
9.
Blaine takes the tupperware out of the fridge and it has a post-it stuck to it saying, Don't open me before lunch, I have a surprise inside!
He glances over his shoulder, where Kurt is watering the herbs on the windowsill, and sneaks his fingers underneath the lid.
"Don't open that."
His shoulders cringe, and he shuffles around to face his husband. "Not even a peek?"
"Where is the point of surprises if you ruin them?"
"But I'll find out what the surprise is eventually, so why not now?"
Kurt walks into the kitchen cubby and puts the watering can in the sink. "Because I asked you not to and I'm your husband and you want to make me happy the way I want to make you happy, so you won't."
"Don't do the pout."
"It would make me unhappy if you spoiled it, Blaine."
"Don't do the pout!"
Kurt ruins it by laughing, anyway. He kisses him, taps the lid of the box and says, "I will know if you spoil it." and pushes him for the doorway. "Have a good day."
Blaine catches his tie to catch another kiss before he snags up his helmet. "I won't spoil it."
"I know. Thank you."
One more kiss, and the door swinging open. "I love you."
"Love you too. See you later."
He'll think up a surprise to bring home with him, just to make it even.
To make it super-even, he'll let Kurt know that there will be a surprise just after lunch, he's not the only impatient one in this marriage . . .
10.
Kurt rubs an eye, says, "I hate when you work nights."
"Me too. The hardships of being a junior doctor." He slips his arms inside Kurt's open robe, hugs his warm hard sides. "Go get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning."
Kurt's foot presses over his, nuzzling like he's trying to just touch as much of Blaine as possible, tipping his head to rest his cheek on Blaine's shoulder. "Hate when you work nights. Hardly see you."
"I know. I'm sorry." He's all warm and sleepy like a kitten and oh god Blaine does not want to go to that hospital right now. He swallows, and rubs Kurt's sides through his pyjamas some more, and says to his cheek, "So go back to bed, and go to sleep, and you won't even notice the time going until I'm back again."
"'Kay," Kurt says, and half-stifles a yawn. "Mn. Have a good - night."
Blaine kisses him. "You too. Sleep well."
"Love you."
"I love you too."
Kurt holds the door behind him, so when Blaine looks back, there's Kurt's eye in the gap, drowsy dark blue, and the sleepy warm twitch of his smile.
11.
Kurt's palm rubs his shoulder blade as Blaine's tying his shoelace before he heads back for the kitchen, slow Sunday sway in his step, cup of coffee in hand. "Make it a quick one, I want to catch that movie at twelve."
Blaine stands up, pops his headphones in already skimming to the right song. "Will do. See you later!"
Kurt says something, moving mouth not remotely matching Blaine's current audio of, You belong to the gang, and you say you can't break away. He pulls one earpiece out. "What?"
Kurt takes a sip of coffee, elbows leaning on the counter and cupping his mug in both lazy hands. "I said 'I love you', you dinkus."
Blaine grins and sings, "I love you too!", pushing the earpiece back in and blowing Kurt an exaggerated air kiss (So await for the stone on your window, your window), as Kurt rolls his eyes and smiles and drinks more coffee. Blaine opens the door, and manages at least not singing out loud until he's out of the building and building up speed down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians, aiming for the park.
"And I swear to the stars, I'll burn this whole city down -"
Looking like a crazy person on a Sunday morning, running like a loon with headphones in and the music turned up loud: life is good.
12.
Kurt holds his elbows in his hands, cold this close to the window. He says, "It rains because the universe doesn't want me to have perfect hair and be happy."
"The universe is a cruel and soulless place," Blaine agrees from the sofa, legs kicked out on the coffee table and laptop in, indeed, lap. "Would you like to see a picture of a really happy corgi?"
The rain chuckles sadistically down the guttering, and Kurt's hair really is perfect tonight, too. "Exactly how happy is this corgi?"
"Probably the happiest corgi in the whole wide world. And Kurt, corgis are pretty damn happy at the best of times. This corgi, it could end wars with its happiness. It could turn back floods. It could make Cruella de Vil want to be a better person."
"Well it might get halfway there with me, then." Kurt murmurs listlessly, and walks to the back of the sofa, slumps over it and settles his arms around Blaine's shoulders. Blaine tilts the screen back, beams expectantly. Rain throws itself with sudden glee at the window and Kurt sighs, slowly.
"Isn't he great?" Blaine says.
"It's a really happy corgi, Blaine."
"You know how you said this apartment's too small for a dog?"
"We're not getting a corgi, Blaine."
"The royal family has corgis," Blaine says wheedlingly, and Kurt ducks his face behind Blaine's hair to hide the smile growing there; his husband knows him too well.
"We're not getting a corgi now." He kisses the back of Blaine's head. "I'm going to work. Behave. Adopt no dogs until I get back."
Blaine puts the laptop to one side and turns on the sofa as Kurt walks to the coatstand for his jacket. "But we can adopt dogs when you get back?"
Kurt pulls his jacket straight. "You'll be asleep when I get back."
Blaine props his chin off his arm along the sofa's back. "I'll be dreaming of corgis," he says, and Kurt flicks him a smile, picks up his umbrella. "I hope it's a great show. Break a leg."
"I'll see you later. I love you."
"I love you too," Blaine sings, and as the door closes Kurt hears, "I love you and corgis!"
He swings his umbrella, trying to fight the smile down.
13.
Kurt wakes up alone in the bed, and blinks.
It's light behind the blinds. He can hear traffic. He turns his head and looks across the empty, Blaineless expanse of sheets for the alarm clock, which has always been more necessary on Blaine's side than his; ten seventeen.
He closes his eyes for another moment, then picks himself up.
The play's been hell, a chaos of set designs that turned out unworkable and costumes Kurt's not comfortable in and apparently he doesn't play characters how Rico envisaged them when he came up with the costume and apparently it's his job to play to the costume rather than the other way around, which is just such a giant steaming pile of you're not the one on stage doing this Rico and Kurt has no idea what the other side of that argument was, it being in Italian. Sean's been moody and difficult. Samuel went quiet and strangely harsh, not liking the atmosphere. John very nearly lost his mind. And then -
And then last night they killed it. Kurt could feel the empty space of the audience drinking it in, needing it. Last night he tasted the silence of the audience in his breath, filling the space around their bodies, clasping the pause before their words. One of those nights when the words were always true. One of those nights when they weren't on stage: they were the world, and everything outside that theatre was tired and overscripted and done already and only they were real, only them, only their voices, in all the wordless world.
And then he came home too buzzed to sleep and ended up staring at Blaine's sleeping face for two solid hours, quietly wondering at the world inside a human body, bigger than the oceans. Blaine's breath and his low eyelashes, and Kurt had had to close his hands not to touch him, wake him, because he wanted to know. To know -?
"Everything," he murmurs to the empty apartment, pulling a robe on and stretching long, and padding through into the lounge. Nearly nine years, he still doesn't know all of Blaine and Blaine's mind, everything, enthralling enigmatic boy-man with a capacity like a star for joy, and worry. But -
Coffee before crazed theories of humanity. He always feels like hell the day after a play, and hell he has to do it all over again tonight . . .
Blaine's left the Scrabble box open on the coffee table, which Kurt glances at but doesn't question as he heads for the kitchen cubby, Blaine is easily distracted and has a thousand fun ideas a minute and probably forgot he'd ever got it out once he realised that Kurt was still asleep and Blaine doesn't actually have the time for a game of Scrabble before work. It's only turning to get behind the kitchen counter that he spots it, and cranes his neck back to get a better look.
Stuck to the back of the front door is the legend
I
LOVE
YOU
in Scrabble tiles.
Fourteen points, Kurt notes, biting his lip, looking away like he's embarrassed in his own empty apartment.
He puts some coffee on to brew, shakes the box of letters a little, finds the blu-tack on the table by the door. He adds his contribution, takes a photograph and hits send. Then he goes to rescue his coffee, the smile unshakeably in place now, and sits in the window, watching the cars and people go by, sharing some quality time with his plants.
Blaine texts back, Seventeen points. You win!
Kurt rubs an eye, and smiles, and replies, You get a double word score for sincerity.
(I
LOVE
YOU
TOO)
14.
Blaine is so tense now he needs to hit something, and that realisation snaps his head to the side like he can't look at Kurt when he thinks that. He spits, "I'm going to work." and Kurt just stands there, staring at him, while he stalks to the doorway to pull on his shoes.
Kurt says, "Blaine,"
It's like a match hit the gas. "I can't believe you're doing this, I can't believe you're not my side-"
The look Kurt is giving him just turned up a whole extra dozen what the fuck notches. "What part of this is about-"
"You always take his side! What the hell ever happened to supporting me-"
"Supporting your family is supporting you you-"
"I'm not putting up with his bullshit and you picking my brother over me." Blaine yanks the door open too hard, and it hits the corner of the table, and fury at the pathetic size of the apartment strikes irrationally hard, he wants to kick it, kick the whole damn building-
"All I'm asking you to do is call him-"
"He never listens to me!"
"Maybe if you listened to him you'd work out why!"
"Well maybe for once you shouldn't act like some pompous patronizing saint-"
He sees Kurt's eyes, just before too much momentum slams the door shut.
14.
Kurt's body is snug to his, Kurt's forehead to his shoulder, hair under his cheek. He doesn't want to move from this sofa, doesn't want to unfold his arms, but he can hear the clock ticking disapprovingly and god knows he's already fucked up enough today and it's not even nine o' clock yet. He lifts his head a little, kisses the top of Kurt's head, murmurs, "I'm going to be really late."
Kurt sniffs a little as he sits up, and Blaine rubs at his shoulder and down his back as Kurt quickly pats his sleeve at his eyes. "Okay," he whispers, and smiles, and Blaine's heart just breaks every time, he feels like he needs to be on the floor on his knees with his head on Kurt's feet, he can't bear -
"Don't look like that," Kurt says, cupping his face, thumbs running over his cheeks. "It's okay, Blaine. You have to go to work."
"I'll call him tonight." he promises, folding his arms around Kurt's back again, swaying him a little with the hug. God, to get into a fight like this because of Cooper, fuck. Sometimes Blaine feels like even alone in his apartment with Kurt he's still trying to deal with Cooper being the centre of attention. "Okay? I'll call him tonight, and then I'll, you know, be really sorry some more."
Kurt whispers, "Don't be sorry." and holds his face to kiss him again.
Because Kurt's kiss makes things better, like it reminds Blaine how to breathe. It's genuinely magic like that.
Kurt breaks back, licks his lips, holds Blaine's eye close. "He's not you. He doesn't have everything you have. He knows that, Blaine."
Kurt's body in his arms and Kurt's eyes on his, would Blaine want Cooper's life if he knew his own was here? He swallows, and nods, and Kurt's smile is all sad when he kisses him again. "Go to work, Dr Anderson. You're going to be late."
"I love you."
"I love you too. You know I do."
Blaine stands up but doesn't let go of Kurt's hands so Kurt comes with him, walks to the door with him, opens the latch for him and hands him his helmet with one hand, while Blaine shucks his bag over his shoulder again. "I'll see you tonight."
"I love you," Blaine says, again; it just falls out of him.
Kurt neatens the collar of his jacket and says to it, "You're the best man I've ever known and I married you because I want to be near you for the rest of both our lives." He looks up to Blaine's eyes, and presses his hand over his chest where his heart beats low and heavy. "You know I love you." He nods his head to the door. "Now go to work before you get fired so I can keep on bragging to my friends about being married to a doctor."
"I love you."
"I know you do." Kurt lowers his head for the kiss, and his hand slides slowly from Blaine's as he steps out of the apartment. "I'll see you tonight, Blaine."
He might bring flowers back, he will definitely bring kisses. They'll make love on that bed and afterwards Blaine will lay listening to Kurt's heart while he strokes Blaine's hair, and Blaine will say, will try to say, Sometimes I feel like. Like.
. . . well. He's got all day to work that out.
15.
Blaine grabs up his bag, his helmet, his guitar case and some straps for attaching it to the scooter, and hikes it all higher in his arms. "Hey, can you get the door for me?"
Kurt grabs a waffle as it pops out of the toaster and walks over humming along with the radio. He says, "Open." and Blaine obediently does, so Kurt can pop the waffle into his mouth, put his lunch into his helmet, kiss his forehead and open the door. "Have a good day."
Around the waffle in his teeth it mostly comes out as, "Vf ou!"
"Love you too," Kurt says, eyes all bright and amused as he closes the door behind him.
16.
Kurt breathes, "I have to go."
Blaine's got his hand in underneath his shirt now, base of his thumb held hard to Kurt's hipbone sharp under the skin, spread fingers pressing his back. He says, "No." and drags his teeth down the skin of Kurt's shoulder again, a sudden firmer press in his flesh and Kurt's whole body jolts its long length against his.
Kurt gasps at the ceiling, "Blaine if you give me a hickey before a play I will kill you and sell your body to science."
Blaine's voice has got all low and tangled in his chest. "Want you so bad."
"If you want me bad enough you'll wait," Kurt snaps, then groans as one of Blaine's hands gets his ass off the wall with a hard inward squeeze, clamping Kurt's leg between his. "Blaine, Blaine, I have a play, I can't be late -"
Blaine huffs over his breastbone, "Want to blow you on the coffee table."
"Okay." Kurt's palm on his forehead forces Blaine's head back to arm's length, if the lower half of his body is still clinging to Kurt's like his skinny jeans. "This is me leaving the apartment. This is what me leaving the apartment looks like. Stop doing that."
He's trying to clamp Kurt's knee in between his so he can't escape. Kurt wriggles it half free and bursts into frustrated laughter, and Blaine's sort of more enjoying the game more than his semi-erection by this point too. "Kuuuurrt don't go I'll die."
"You will not die, get off me you - caveman -"
"I will die of lack of sex."
"You will never die of lack of sex," Kurt says derisively, and finally manages to pull his leg out from between Blaine's, slipping around Blaine's back rather than dodging immediately to the side. Blaine tries to grab after him but turning with him he's dizzy; lack of blood to the head, he thinks, slapping a hand to his forehead.
Kurt's pulling a jacket on and opening the door at the same time. "Behave until I get back!"
"You can't leave me like this!" Blaine says, scrambling after him and catching the door before it can swing closed behind Kurt's back. "Kurt, you can't leave me like this! I'll start humping the furniture!"
Kurt spins to walk backwards down the corridor, hand clamped over his mouth in horror, eyes alive with laughter. "Ssshh oh my god the neighbours-"
"Come back soon," Blaine says, hugging the door as he pouts around it, and Kurt rolls his delighted eyes to the ceiling.
"Soon as I can. Have the coffee table clear."
"I love you!"
"Love you too!"
Their downstairs neighbour begins banging on his ceiling. Blaine explodes the laughter into his own bent arm, and once Kurt's down the staircase with a wicked little wave, he closes the door behind him.
17.
Blaine says, "It's worth a whole trip to the store just for mint?"
Kurt, one arm in the sleeve of his jacket, looks at Blaine like he just asked why they don't set fire to the sofa. "I'll be ten minutes. Don't touch anything."
Blaine glances at the half-constructed curry taking up their entire kitchen, and figures he can maybe get away with eating some of the pepper without Kurt noticing. "Okay. Love you!"
"Love you too!" Kurt calls breezily, as the door bangs closed.
18.
Blaine hurries around the apartment getting himself together for work; Kurt still hasn't moved from beside the cage.
"You got me birds."
"I have to go to work, Dr Mary will have my ass."
"You got me birds."
"Happy birthday." Blaine kisses his cheek, tips his head to admire the birds again, two small chirping finches side by side. "Have an awesome day 'til I get back."
"You got me birds."
". . . I take it you like them?"
"I love you," Kurt says, slipping his arms over Blaine's shoulders, kissing him hard and happy. "Oh my god how did you even hide them from me-?"
"Mrs Capek took them last night. You do like them, right?"
"Blaine." Kurt shakes him side to side in the hug. "You got me birds."
He grins. "I'll see you tonight, okay?" He wiggles a finger at the bars, and bright small eyes watch him. "Be nice to him, it's his birthday."
"I love you," Kurt says, fervently.
"I love you too," Blaine says, and those birds might as well get used to the sight of them making out around the cage already anyway.
So maybe he'll be a little late in today. It's Kurt's birthday.
In the doorway Kurt says, "You got me birds."
"Tell me their names when I get back? They're both guys, I didn't know if we were responsible enough to raise an egg yet."
Kurt says, "You got me birds." and kisses him again, and when Blaine finally does close the door he hears the excited burst of wordless sound behind it, Kurt moved beyond even his eighteenth you got me birds.
He grins pretty much the whole way to work.
19.
"I am on my way, I am walking up to the door right now, you hear that? That is me opening the door, this is me leaving the apartment -"
Blaine catches his arm and Kurt pulls the phone from his ear in sheer surprise, as Blaine presses him into the table and gives him a long, hard, heartfelt goodbye kiss.
From the phone comes the aggravated sound of John's patience.
Eventually Kurt stares at Blaine's face, then blinks a couple of times. He lifts the phone to his ear again.
"Leaving my apartment," he says a little raspily, then clears his throat. "Leaving it now. Get off my back, I am on my way."
Blaine smiles, and watches from the doorway as Kurt's pants cling to his stride that wonderful way they do.
"What you hear is me walking out of my apartment, why are you this completely anal, you should not be doing this job if you're so susceptible to stress, you will give yourself a heart attack and believe me none of us want that, John. That was me being sincere! God, like you're a better actor than me. This sound you now hear is me walking down the staircase, do you like the busy sound of me making my way to your ridiculous rehearsal on a Sunday you sadist?"
Blaine closes the door behind him, and decides it's a Katamari kind of day.
20.
Blaine rubs his hair, checks the sun climbing outside the window. He stands up from the sofa and says loud enough to carry to the next room, "I think I'll go for a run."
Kurt walks in from the bathroom smelling of that new moisturiser like honey clinging to his skin. He leans to peer in at the finches and smiles, and says contemplatively, "I feel really inexplicably horny today."
Blaine says nothing. Kurt smiles for the finches, and walks back into the bedroom.
Blaine says nothing, and one of the finches trills a little song.
Blaine does not put his sneakers on.
20.
The door opens and Kurt yelps, scrambling back out of the way and nearly dropping his keys, and Blaine blinks in at him bewildered before he settles into a sigh, a tilted smile. "Play?"
"Play," Kurt confirms, and kisses him as Blaine shuffles in around him. "How was the hospital?"
"God. Tiring."
"Get some rest, I'll see you later." Kurt holds the lapels of his coat while Blaine presses his forehead to his, his arms a comfortable hug around his shoulders. "I love you."
"I love you too. Go be amazing."
Kurt gives him a quick sorry smile and heads down the hallway, hearing the door click closed again behind him.
21.
Kurt's being angry at the news when Blaine leans up, kisses him half on his mouth and half on his cheek, sings, "Love you, see you later!" and heads for the door. Kurt keeps on standing there by the window, glaring at the TV, but he lifts his head a little to murmur, "I love you too," before the door bangs closed.
He takes a sip of coffee. And, cutting through his blackened-sky rage at the morning news, is knowledge of Blaine like a sunflower coming open in the back of his mind.
There are two awkward knocks at the door.
Kurt walks over, puts down his coffee and picks up Blaine's keys from the table. He opens the latch and smiles out at him, dangling the keys high. "See you tonight?"
Blaine grins, holding a hand out for Kurt to drop the keys into. "Have a great day."
"You too. Save lives." Kurt kisses him, and Blaine heads off humming for the stairs. Kurt closes the door, and gives a little sigh, and picks up his coffee again. Then he goes to glare at the news some more, until people stop being stupid just because it pisses him off so much.
22.
Blaine hurries through from the bedroom for the door and before he can open his mouth Kurt snips the last thread and calls, "Here." as if to a recalcitrant dog.
"Wh- I have to go to work."
"Here, Blaine." Kurt says, standing up and shaking the pants out. "I have to check the length."
Blaine stands there scowling. "I didn't even need them taking up."
"Your near faceplant into that streetlight last night says different. Now come over here and stop being five."
Blaine drags his feet over and Kurt rolls his eyes, then holds the waistband to the waistband of the pants he's currently wearing, and contemplates how low the leg falls; the hem now sits neatly on his ankle. "Perfect," Blaine says sarcastically.
"Of course they're perfect. They are now tailored exactly to you, and you are perfect. You ungrateful brute." Kurt folds the pants over his arm and kisses him. "Go to work while I sit at home hemming your pants and cooking your dinner and never being appreciated for all I do, then."
Blaine sighs, and puts a hand on the back of Kurt's neck, and kisses him that long slow way, Kurt's hands go strange and strengthless on Blaine's arms. He doesn't know how long the kiss lasts. Until his head's come through the clouds and gone entirely clear, an ice-blue plateau of clarity where as if for the first time in his life he understands again, again, this is all that matters in the world.
"Thank you," Blaine says to Kurt's mouth, while Kurt's knees are still unsure of why they're standing. "They're perfect, you're amazing, and you know you are. I'll see you tonight."
A little lost by how much it overwhelms him still sometimes, dropped out of him like a lost breath, "I love you."
Blaine's thumb and fingers are gently working into the hair at the back of his neck, and Kurt's whole body is now struggling with the concept of not falling over. "I love you too." Blaine leans in again and whispers, "Perfect." over his mouth before he kisses him again.
Kurt waits until he's out of the door to lean against the back of the sofa, hand over his mouth and the other gripping tight the newly taken up pants, dazedly working out the hours until Blaine is back in their bed again.
23.
Kurt comes out of the bathroom straightening his tie pin. "Does this work?"
Blaine's so surprised he stops playing Angry Birds on his back on the bed and looks up. "You're asking me?"
"No, Blaine, I'm asking that other stylish gay man I keep under the bed for just these occasions, does this work?"
Blaine almost just says, You're asking me? again only with a different inflection this time, and then he stops and sits up and starts being serious. Kurt squirms a bit, says, "Sometimes I don't know if other people actually know what I'm doing."
Blaine narrows his eyes at the outfit. He tries to think like Kurt.
He says, "Buttons."
And Kurt smiles, because if someone else can see the clean, contemporary silver points holding an otherwise drab and conservative outfit together, yes he is a genius. "I knew I married the right guy," he says, and leans down for his kiss. "I'll see you tonight, do you want anything picking up from the store?"
Blaine picks up his phone again. "A puppy?"
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that because you were doing so well until then. I love you! Bye Lennon, bye McCartney!"
A finch sings back, and Blaine calls, "I love you too!" before the door closes, then narrows his eyes and goes back to killing pigs. Buttons, clean points of light, bright silver like stars in the dark cuffs, that sharp silver tie pin, set off by those clean white Doc Martens; his husband is a genius. Also very sexy. Unfortunately disinclined to bring a dog into their shoebox sized apartment, but otherwise, perfect.
"You guys would like a dog for a friend, right?" he calls through the open bedroom doorway, and either Lennon or McCartney chirps back.
"Thought so," Blaine says, and his tongue presses between his teeth as he sets up a difficult shoot.
24.
"Late," Kurt says feverishly, scrabbling through a bedside drawer. "Late late late check the birds' water for me oh my god-"
'Late' does not mean that he doesn't find exactly the right cufflinks before he goes scrambling out of the room again. Blaine's just getting off the bed to follow him when he hears, "Love you bye!" and the front door opening, and he runs through yelping, "Wait wait wait you forgot something-!"
Kurt sticks his head back through the door, eyes all panicked, and Blaine throws his arms around his neck for the kiss.
He thumps back down to his heels and Kurt blinks at him, then says, "Thank you, it would have been terrible to forget that."
He's smiling a little dazedly, touching his hair to check it, then he skids around and runs for the staircase.
Blaine yells out of the door, "Don't break your neck!"
"If I scream," Kurt calls back, "I need a doctor!"
Blaine can hear him laughing even over the thudding of his boots on the stairs.
25.
"Short answer," Kurt says, "no, Truly Madly Deeply does not sound good on an accordion. The long answer I don't really have the time for if I'm getting to rehearsal today because I don't know what childhood trauma we would have to dig through to work out why your brain works the special way it does, Blaine." He leans down and kisses Blaine, sitting on the sofa with the snubbed accordion on his lap, and says, "I love you, play yourself crazy while I'm out."
Blaine squeezes an optimistic flowing scale out of it. "What about Your Body is a Wonderland?"
Kurt sings from the doorway, "Let's both pretend I didn't hear that!" and the door closes behind him.
Blaine mutters to the birds, "He has like, no taste in music."
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