Fic: Part of That {A Consonance & Dissonance Thanksgiving}
Ttitle Part of That {A Consonance & Dissonance Thanksgiving}
Rating NC-17
Word Count 4,630
Warnings Mild foodplay
Series Summary AU in which Blaine is four years older than Kurt and therefore they never meet at Dalton. Kurt ends up at OSU instead of in NYC, where Blaine is a grad-student-turned-professor, and also the object of Kurt's crushing his sophomore and junior years.
Story Summary Kurt invites his and Blaine's families to their home in Brooklyn a few weeks after their wedding, and he might not have thought everything through. Two deleted scenes from the series reincarnated.
Notes So, yeah, yeah, I was done. Then, valentina_says had a birthday coming up and I wanted to write something domestic-y for her, and C&D has gotten over 250 spam comments in the last month, so it's been on my mind. These were supposed to be part of the series in another way, but they didn't fit, so here they are. Thank the spammers and Miss V, I suppose ;) Now I can say their story is truly done. I suppose you could read this without reading the rest of the series but you'll wonder who the heck everyone in Blaine's family is, since this was started in the summer before S3 and Cooper didn't exist. This took almost a month to finish, because November seems to be the month of sickness and my body hating me, so it's a bit late, but happy birthday, lovely ♥
Additional Note Also (this has already gotten really long whoops), eight days ago was my two year fic-iversary in this fandom, and in the past two years I've written an ungodly amount of words about these stupid boys. The fic community is why I haven't up and left even when I've been frustrated, even when I've wanted to. I'm really thankful for the lovely, lovely people this fandom has brought me because of fic. Since I will probably never write anything that will top C&D, you can consider this a thank you to you as well. ;)
Kurt Hummel was possibly a little bit crazy.
Blame it on the fact that he was high on love when he invited everyone back to New York for Thanksgiving, a mere six weeks after his and Blaine’s wedding. Blame it on the fact that while yes, his and Blaine’s family had finally all met and didn’t kill each other the whole time they were around each other during the wedding festivities, they were also surrounded by tons of other people. Kurt simply forgot the fact that there would suddenly be sixteen people (plus two dogs) crammed into the brownstone he shared with Blaine, almost all of them out of towners, and the only two of them who weren’t would be totally useless. Rachel was currently eight months pregnant and Finn was, well, Finn.
This was important, though, Kurt had told himself when he made the offer. It was his and Blaine’s first holiday together, and in years past they’d had to juggle figuring out who to spend it with - each other or their families, and Kurt didn’t like making either of them choose. By bringing everyone to them, no one had to. He was setting a precedent for the future.
He just had to not drive himself or Blaine insane in the process.
***
Two weeks before the elusive date, Kurt started preparations, stocking their freezer with things that wouldn’t spoil. It wasn’t as if people could bring things, and the thought of Rachel cooking anything, let alone in her state, was out of the question. It also didn’t help that Blaine’s department had lightened his course load fall quarter since they knew of his impending wedding, and he was paying for it now, which meant longer hours, which meant Kurt really hadn’t thought any of this through at all.
Blaine came home late one night to find three apple crostatas cooling on the counter, Kurt eyeing them warily. “I’m trying to figure out which apples to use,” he offered in explanation, and Blaine simply raised his eyebrows.
“Do I get to be your taste tester? Because I wholeheartedly approve of that.” He dropped his bag on the kitchen floor, Beau and Brady circling his feet, walking over to give Kurt a soft kiss hello. Kurt knew he had to look a mess, hair sticking up every which way and flour streaked across his cheek, but he felt instantly calmer with Blaine at his side. “I thought I was in charge of dessert.”
“There’s sixteen of us, Blaine. We have to have choices,” Kurt scoffed as he reached up to brush at his temple where there must have been more flour. He let his eyelids flutter closed, leaning into his touch. “Plus, you’re on pumpkin and cookie duty. You already said. I figured we need something with apples.”
“You’re worrying too much, sweetheart,” Blaine murmured softly before kissing him again. “What happened to your post-honeymoon euphoria? Do I need to whisk you off to Europe again?” He laughed against Kurt’s hairline, and Kurt did chuckle at that. Honestly, that was part of the problem. Their eight day honeymoon over Blaine’s fall break had left him the most well rested he’d felt in years, leaving him with a false sense of security. Now, weeks later, every little detail was starting to nag at the back of his mind, driving him up a wall.
“That sounds quite un-American, my dear husband,” he quipped back. He sighed against Blaine’s cheek before giving him one last kiss. “Do you want actual dinner, or is cake and apples and pure sugar plenty?” he teased, going back to surveying his creations.
“After the day I’ve had,” Blaine replied, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist from behind, “cake is definitely plenty. Let’s have a taste testing party and call it a night.”
Kurt grabbed a knife to cut them each a slice. Cake made always made things better after all, right? He could worry again tomorrow.
***
His worry wasn’t all for naught, because the Monday before Thanksgiving was when it all really started to fall apart. Burt and Carole were set to arrive on Wednesday, staying in their guest room, but everyone else was opting to stay in Manhattan, Rachel’s parents with her and Finn and Blaine’s family at a hotel (they had plans to take Charlie and Tyler in all their five-year-old glory to the Macy’s parade before heading to Brooklyn for dinner that night).
Kurt worked late Monday, his last day before five days of ‘working from home’ (his office was closed up for half that time anyway), and when he arrived at the brownstone, he found Blaine curled up on the couch, dogs at his feet.
“Blaine - I just - I just realized on the train - where are we going to put everyone?” Kurt said breathlessly as he walked through the door, dropping his things immediately and heading to the kitchen to survey the plates and silverware situation. Their dining room table merely seated six, extended, and even pulling in their desk chairs, they still needed eight more chairs and one more table, at least.
Kurt had tried to be realistic in putting together their wedding registry. Sure, he’d loved the idea of lavish parties, but the idea of having service for sixteen in their tiny brownstone was silly at this point, and the idea of making other people fork over the cash for that extravagance when they didn’t have the shelf space for it was even sillier. He was regretting that decision now, however.
“If we mix our casual and our nicer china, we’ll have enough plates for everyone. At least I picked complimenting color palettes. Or, if some of us use the smaller ones I guess, then we can use our nicer china and everything would match exactly - I mean, Tyler and Charlie can use salad plates, and so can you and I, and Rachel’s still getting heartburn so we’ll make her use one too - oof -”
Kurt stopped mid-sentence when he turned around and came face to face with Blaine, who was placing his hands on his shoulders and kneading his fingertips into them. “So, the eating situation is under control then? We don’t need to buy more plates? Because I will, I will go right now.”
“I - I don’t think that’s necessary,” Kurt replied, and god, he really loved his husband. He’d spent the whole train ride getting worked up, and with one touch of his hands, Blaine had calmed him. “We do need to figure out a seating solution though.”
Blaine pursed his lips, drumming his fingers against Kurt’s shoulders. “Well, how often do we think we’re going to be doing this? Is it worth it to go get a folding table of some sort and some chairs? One that’s actually nice and doesn’t look like a folding table?” he added at the look of abject horror on Kurt’s face. “Come on. IKEA’s open until nine. Let’s go see what they have.”
Kurt really, really loved his husband. They wandered around and found something perfect that could be stashed in their third floor office when not in use and fed each other lingonberries and meatballs in the cafeteria for dinner.
Tuesday, Blaine had classes most of the day, but thankfully, he’d scheduled out of class assignments for all of his Wednesday classes for everyone’s benefit. Kurt truthfully didn’t mind; he planned to spend most of the day getting what cooking he could get done out of the way that morning and afternoon, plus cleaning, and fit in another run to the store at some point. The problem was, in all the haste the night before, he forgot to take out the turkey to defrost, and he wasn’t sure if it would have enough time at this point.
Things kept going downhill from there. The grocery was out of the apples he wanted, so he had to go with another choice. The steam cleaner broke on him halfway through cleaning the hardwood floors and it took him over an hour to get it working again. Blaine’s family, while he loved them dearly, was texting him constant updates on their travel plans since they knew Blaine was in class and he was at home. All eight of them were flying in from Columbus, and their flight was delayed again and again, which Kurt was sympathetic to, but he had enough to deal with himself. He half pictured them sitting around the airport asking, “Okay! Who’s turn is it to text Kurt?” and drawing straws.
By the time night fell, he’d given up, taken to slumping against the kitchen cabinets on the floor with the bowl of cranberry sauce he’d just made and eating it by the spoonful (it had fresh and dried cranberries mixed in and was one of his favorite things about Thanksgiving - he always bought enough supplies to make an extra batch for leftovers later the following week). Beau and Brady were sitting watching intently, hoping he’d drop some for them to sample - which wasn’t going to happen. He heard the click of the door at some point, signaling Blaine’s arrival home, but didn’t have the energy to get up and greet him.
Blaine must have taken his shoes off by the door, because Kurt only heard the soft padding of his socked feet before he appeared on the other side of the bar, looking over at him. “Oh, Kurt,” he said softly, coming around to crouch beside him, and Kurt set the bowl of sauce off to his right side where the dogs weren’t sitting. “Why didn’t you call to tell me your day was going so bad?”
“I didn’t have time inbetween your family texting me every five seconds,” Kurt retorted, but he sighed, unable to keep up the bitchiness for long, scrubbing a hand over his face. “They’re - they should be here by now, I think. My phone’s charging in the living room. I don’t think the turkey’s going to be defrosted in time, and it took me two hours to clean the floors because I spent half of that time trying to fix the stupid steam cleaner, among other things, and I’m just - done.”
“Sweetheart,” Blaine replied, with so much affection in his voice, Kurt had to shut his eyes before his emotions got the best of him. “I’m sorry my family is crazy. I’m sorry they drove you crazy. Let me take care of the turkey tomorrow, hmm? It just needs a little cold water bath in the sink, it’ll be fine. You are amazing, my amazing, wonderful husband, and I’m home until Monday now, and we’re going to make this the best Thanksgiving anyone in our families has ever been to.”
Kurt chuckled as Blaine’s lips brushed his forehead. His eyelids fluttered open to find his husband still crouching in front of him, knees almost in his lap where his legs were crossed, a warm smile on his face. “I’m glad you’re home,” he whispered, bringing their lips together, the familiar slide they’d perfected over the past four years. He heard a whine off to the side from one of the dogs and he grabbed the bowl of cranberry sauce, hoisting it in the air away from any wandering paws as he broke the kiss.
“So … you bought enough to make extras again this year right?” Blaine asked, his voice breathy as he took the bowl from him and set it on the counter above. Kurt quirked an eyebrow, nodding slightly as Blaine brought his fingers to his jaw to turn it gently. “Because you seem to have a bit right here …”
Blaine’s lips were against his throat instantly, licking where he seemed to have a splatter of cranberry sauce from earlier, probably when he was making it, warm heat sparking inside at the brush of them. “Mmm,” Blaine growled into his skin as he continued licking. “Good, because now I have half a mind to lick half of that bowl off of you.”
“Put the dogs up,” Kurt gasped, rocking up and seeking more from Blaine’s mouth, surprised at how fast the thought turned him on. Images of him licking the sweet concoction off Blaine’s torso and stomach and thighs flooded his brain, and yes, two could play that game. Blaine was off him in a flash, calling for the dogs behind him and taking them to the tiny den where he could shut the door.
Kurt poured a third of the cranberry sauce into a smaller bowl before stashing the rest in the fridge as to not defile their entire batch and yanked off his apron, as well as his long sleeved tee. Blaine had shed his clothes on the way to the den as well, only wearing his unbuttoned button-down, rolled to the elbows and hanging sinfully off his shoulders and his briefs, the outline of his half-hard cock visible as he stepped through the doorway.
At some point, Kurt had told Blaine he had a thing for his shirts hanging off him in that way, and he’d been using it to his advantage ever since. Kurt couldn’t complain.
Kurt watched as Blaine rummaged in the far drawer, behind the takeout menus and their collection of stolen pens, for the small bottle of lube he knew was there. Once found, he rushed over to Kurt, leaning against the counter, and was on him instantly, tossing the bottle next to the bowl and pressing in tight between his thighs. Kurt’s mouth found his again, the strain of the hard counter edge against his back only a mild annoyance compared to the way Blaine was pressed warm against his front.
Kurt’s head fell back as Blaine trailed kisses down his jaw, down to the long column of his neck. He heard Blaine reach for the bowl, felt Blaine’s fingers paint a streak of cool, sweet sauce across his collarbone, and moaned as Blaine’s tongue began to lap it up. The contrast between the heat of Blaine’s tongue and lips and mouth and the coolness of the cranberry dripping on his skin was causing his cock to twitch in the soft cotton pants he was still wearing, and he arched against Blaine, trying to seek friction against his bare thigh.
Blaine smiled against his skin as he reached for more sauce, letting it drip down Kurt’s chest, over his right nipple. Blaine flattened his tongue, laving at the spot where it’d collected and groaning at the taste, and Kurt groaned alongside him. The wet trails Blaine’s mouth left began to cool in the chill of the room the instant he moved on, gooseflesh forming in the sticky wake and he yearned for the warmth of Blaine’s mouth everywhere, but the urge to push Blaine to the floor and yank his briefs off was far stronger.
“Blaine,” Kurt whined, grappling at Blaine’s hips as he swirled his tongue around another line of sauce dripping down Kurt’s ribcage, but Blaine ignored his plea, grinning against his skin and continuing until it was clean of the deep red hue staining it, sending shivers down his spine. “Blaine,” Kurt whispered again, this time much more sharply, and Blaine finally obliged, coming up to kiss him square on the mouth, tasting the tartness from the cranberries once their tongues began to mingle.
“Get on the floor, it’s my turn,” Kurt murmured, and Blaine scoffed back. “I’ve barely just begun,” he pouted and Kurt chuckled in response.
“What do you want as a compromise? What’s our endgame here? You grabbed the lube, you must have some idea,” Kurt said, placing his palm flat against Blaine’s chest, forcing him backwards. Blaine looked up at him from underneath his thick lashes, as if he was contemplating his options, and Kurt surged forward, kissing him swiftly, nipping at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll make it worth your while …”
“You always do,” Blaine quickly returned, sighing against his lips. “Me riding you,” he finally decided, pulling Kurt with him away from the counter, and before Kurt knew it, Blaine was sprawled out in front of him on the hardwood floor, waiting patiently and looking perfectly criminal. Kurt wasted no time nuzzling against the soft hair of his stomach, placing a single kiss underneath Blaine’s belly button as he locked eyes with him.
He dipped his left hand in the bowl, coating his fingers with cranberry sauce and dragging them over the taut muscles of Blaine’s stomach, watching them tense under his touch. He brought his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean first, drawing each digit between his lips tortuously slow, swirling his tongue along each pad and then down further, staring intently as Blaine watched him, his eyes growing wider and wider. “Kurt,” he finally whispered brokenly, and Kurt gave in, licking a thick stripe just above where the tip of Blaine’s cock was poking out from his briefs, where they’d shifted down, all the way up to his belly button, lapping up the savory mess his fingertips had left.
Blaine groaned his name again, and Kurt used his hands to work his briefs off, freeing his trapped cock, as he simultaneously continued to suck and lick and kiss at Blaine’s stomach until it was clean of the sticky sweet sauce, until Blaine was breathing heavily underneath him, his chest rising and falling in Kurt’s eyeline. Kurt reached to dip his fingers again, this time painting the deep crease next to his thigh, coming dangerously close to his cock, to the point where Blaine actually whimpered as Kurt ran his tongue and teeth over the hard lines of the V before heading to the other side.
Kurt continued lower to Blaine’s strong thighs, the sensitive inner flesh for more of the same, more tart and sweet streaks and more slow drags of his mouth to whisk them away, to the point where his thighs began to shake, soft whines and moans escaping from his lips as Kurt’s tongue and teeth worked over the soft, often ignored skin, his fingers curled in Kurt’s hair to anchor him, and finally, a soft plea of, “Kurt, come on, please.”
“Hmm?” Kurt hummed just above his right knee, flattening his tongue and tracing a swirling pattern slow and leisurely as if he had no clue what Blaine wanted. He trailed his mouth idly up in the direction of Blaine’s cock, placing deliberate kisses along the inside of his thigh as he went. Only when Blaine whined again did he reach for the lube with his right hand, the one that hadn’t been reaching back and forth between the bowl. “Could kiss your thighs all night,” Kurt admitted with one last kiss to the crease above the one he’d been paying attention to, and Blaine merely dropped them open further in anticipation of what was to come, rolling his head further back against the wooden floor with a loud thunk.
Kurt slid two lubed fingers between his cheeks with practiced ease, the time for teasing through, though he couldn’t resist continuing to run his lips over Blaine’s opposing thigh as his fingers worked him open, Blaine’s cock twitching and shiny at the tip from being ignored for so long. His fingers twisted inside perfectly as he kept his mouth occupied, knowing just the right way by now to make Blaine’s body yield to his touch. “Now you’re taking too long,” Blaine whined, bucking against Kurt’s hand and arching his back, and when he removed his fingers to add more lube, Blaine was on him instantly, a hand to his chest pressing him flat to the ground, yanking off his pants in the process, and Kurt was ever so thankful for forgoing underwear earlier when he’d changed.
“Always so impatient,” Kurt murmured, his back adjusting to the slam of the hard wood of the floor underneath him suddenly. He gasped at the contact of Blaine’s lubed hand around his cock, everything happening so fast, but he certainly wasn’t mourning that fact. “Love this part,” he murmured again as Blaine lined up above him, running his hands over Blaine’s stomach and up his torso, his fingers catching on the few spots that were still sticky where his tongue hadn’t thoroughly cleaned. He loved looking up at Blaine’s reaction the first moment he slipped inside, loved the way his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and his mouth dropped open.
“Love you,” Blaine replied, smirking as the head of Kurt’s cock rubbed against his entrance, shifting to find just the right angle before sinking down over it. Kurt would have smirked himself at the predictable site before him if Blaine didn’t look so damn stunning and didn’t feel so wonderful around him. All he could do was loll his head further back against the floor and watch in amazement as Blaine slowly worked himself down until he bottomed out.
Once he did, all bets were off, both of them working to find a steady rhythm, Kurt’s hips snapping upwards as Blaine’s propelled him further down. Blaine’s brow was glistening with sweat already, even though the house was cool from the chilly air outside, a smile curling on his lips as he angled himself towards Kurt more, hands resting at either of his sides. Kurt had been wound tight all day from all the stress piling up, and now that he was finally inside Blaine, ever so tight around him, there was no way he’d do anything but snap under the pressure.
Blaine must have noticed, because he pressed a hand to Kurt’s chest again, pinning him to the ground and slamming down on his cock hard, pulling almost completely off before repeating the motion over and over, knowing it was the surefire way to make Kurt come the fastest. All Kurt could do was lay there and take it, a steady stream of practically nonsense slipping from his lips, just mumbling Blaine’s name over and over again. His orgasm finally hit, all of his worries from the day, the past week, melting away, fading to white, white nothing, and it was suddenly just him and Blaine and nothing else mattered.
He was vaguely aware of Blaine jerking himself off above him moments later, and he raised a hand to help, but before he could, Blaine was coming himself, thick streaks all over Kurt’s stomach. They were both covered in lube and come and spit and cranberry sauce remnants, god, and he’d just cleaned the floors earlier.
Kurt smiled to himself as Blaine pulled off, settling beside him on the floor. Blaine was home now. He could totally make him fight with the steam cleaner this time around.
“What are you so happy for?” Blaine teased, nipping at the side of his neck as he nuzzled in close, throwing a leg over Kurt’s.
“Everything,” Kurt answered simply, sighing happily as he leaned further into Blaine’s touch. “Just - everything.”
***
Kurt leaned against the doorjamb peering in towards the kitchen at his family, sipping his coffee. Everyone was scattered around the table, snacking on pie and crostata and cookies. Rachel was letting Tyler touch her bulging belly while Finn, Burt, and Ben were discussing the football games they were currently missing, and everyone else was still in deep discussions about the city and the sites they’d seen so far on their visit.
Except for Blaine. Kurt frowned slightly, but before he could wonder for long, he felt Blaine’s hands slip around his waist.
“Perfect. Just like I told you,” Blaine said softly, and Kurt’s eyes rolled backwards.
“Far from perfect, but I do think we’ll be able to convince them to come back for Christmas,” he replied, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly as Blaine’s head hooked over his shoulder to look out on the scene before him. “You really think this could be our thing? Ten years from now we’ll still be hosting Thanksgiving and Christmas, only things will be much more fabulous?” At Blaine’s laugh he added, “Hey, this was our first time, things can only get better from here.”
Blaine simply hummed in response, low against his ear. “They’ll probably get bigger too. How many more kids do you think Finn and Rachel will have? And Bradley and Josie haven’t even started yet.”
“However many kids until she pops out a girl. Evan Christopher Berry-Hudson is going to be the most spoiled kid ever, but Rachel wants a daughter,” Kurt replied, chuckling himself. “Josie let on that she and Bradley are already trying, so by next Thanksgiving we could have twice as many kids running around here. Imagine what it’ll be like in five. I could settle for a house full of kids. Twice a year,” he added quickly at the slight stiffening of Blaine’s arms around him, because they’d talked before they’d gotten married and neither one of them had been too keen on the idea of bringing children into their lives. Hell, Kurt hadn’t even wanted the dogs.
“Speaking of being fabulous uncles, Uncle Blaine,” he continued, which he totally loved and signed up for. “We’re taking Tyler and Charlie for the day tomorrow so Ben and Lelia can have a day to themselves. I figure we can take them to the zoo and Central Park. In payment, Ben is washing all the dishes tonight.”
“Man, you drive a hard bargain, Uncle Kurt. Giving up Black Friday shopping to babysit your nephews for a simple cleanup job?” Kurt could feel the smile against his neck, the curve of Blaine’s lips against his skin.
“I’m pretty sure Ben is also cleaning up in order to bribe me so he can come back and take over the living room to watch the OSU game with you and Bradley and our dads on Saturday. He has big game day plans I’m not exactly privy to. Lelia, Josie, and I are going shopping with your mom then. Carole opted out, figuring someone has to stay here and keep you boys in line.” Blaine’s hands flew from Kurt’s waist, and suddenly, Blaine was standing next to him, eyeing him warily. “What?” he asked, the amusement clear in his voice.
“That’s - all day? You’ve barely spent an hour with my mom without me, and you’re going shopping all day with her?” Blaine asked, sounding equal parts appalled and worried, and Kurt reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and laughed lightly.
“Blaine, it’s fine, I’ll have Lelia and Josie with me. I can handle myself, you know.”
“I have no doubt,” Blaine answered, knitting his eyebrows together, but finally giving in and laughing himself. They continued to stare at the scene before them, the makeshift tables pushed together and the china that didn’t match but it didn’t matter in the end, the smiles that were plastered on everyone’s faces. the mish-mash of families that came together to form one because of them.
Rachel looked up from the tiny hands on her stomach to catch Kurt’s eye. She waved them over, patting the empty chair next to her, and Kurt whispered, “I think we’ve been caught.”
As he sat down beside Rachel, Tyler climbing into his lap the instant he was seated, he realized he had more to be thankful for than he ever had before. He was a part of this - a part of that wonderful thing called family.
It wasn’t the end, far from it. It was a brand new start.
Rating NC-17
Word Count 4,630
Warnings Mild foodplay
Series Summary AU in which Blaine is four years older than Kurt and therefore they never meet at Dalton. Kurt ends up at OSU instead of in NYC, where Blaine is a grad-student-turned-professor, and also the object of Kurt's crushing his sophomore and junior years.
Story Summary Kurt invites his and Blaine's families to their home in Brooklyn a few weeks after their wedding, and he might not have thought everything through. Two deleted scenes from the series reincarnated.
Notes So, yeah, yeah, I was done. Then, valentina_says had a birthday coming up and I wanted to write something domestic-y for her, and C&D has gotten over 250 spam comments in the last month, so it's been on my mind. These were supposed to be part of the series in another way, but they didn't fit, so here they are. Thank the spammers and Miss V, I suppose ;) Now I can say their story is truly done. I suppose you could read this without reading the rest of the series but you'll wonder who the heck everyone in Blaine's family is, since this was started in the summer before S3 and Cooper didn't exist. This took almost a month to finish, because November seems to be the month of sickness and my body hating me, so it's a bit late, but happy birthday, lovely ♥
Additional Note Also (this has already gotten really long whoops), eight days ago was my two year fic-iversary in this fandom, and in the past two years I've written an ungodly amount of words about these stupid boys. The fic community is why I haven't up and left even when I've been frustrated, even when I've wanted to. I'm really thankful for the lovely, lovely people this fandom has brought me because of fic. Since I will probably never write anything that will top C&D, you can consider this a thank you to you as well. ;)
Kurt Hummel was possibly a little bit crazy.
Blame it on the fact that he was high on love when he invited everyone back to New York for Thanksgiving, a mere six weeks after his and Blaine’s wedding. Blame it on the fact that while yes, his and Blaine’s family had finally all met and didn’t kill each other the whole time they were around each other during the wedding festivities, they were also surrounded by tons of other people. Kurt simply forgot the fact that there would suddenly be sixteen people (plus two dogs) crammed into the brownstone he shared with Blaine, almost all of them out of towners, and the only two of them who weren’t would be totally useless. Rachel was currently eight months pregnant and Finn was, well, Finn.
This was important, though, Kurt had told himself when he made the offer. It was his and Blaine’s first holiday together, and in years past they’d had to juggle figuring out who to spend it with - each other or their families, and Kurt didn’t like making either of them choose. By bringing everyone to them, no one had to. He was setting a precedent for the future.
He just had to not drive himself or Blaine insane in the process.
***
Two weeks before the elusive date, Kurt started preparations, stocking their freezer with things that wouldn’t spoil. It wasn’t as if people could bring things, and the thought of Rachel cooking anything, let alone in her state, was out of the question. It also didn’t help that Blaine’s department had lightened his course load fall quarter since they knew of his impending wedding, and he was paying for it now, which meant longer hours, which meant Kurt really hadn’t thought any of this through at all.
Blaine came home late one night to find three apple crostatas cooling on the counter, Kurt eyeing them warily. “I’m trying to figure out which apples to use,” he offered in explanation, and Blaine simply raised his eyebrows.
“Do I get to be your taste tester? Because I wholeheartedly approve of that.” He dropped his bag on the kitchen floor, Beau and Brady circling his feet, walking over to give Kurt a soft kiss hello. Kurt knew he had to look a mess, hair sticking up every which way and flour streaked across his cheek, but he felt instantly calmer with Blaine at his side. “I thought I was in charge of dessert.”
“There’s sixteen of us, Blaine. We have to have choices,” Kurt scoffed as he reached up to brush at his temple where there must have been more flour. He let his eyelids flutter closed, leaning into his touch. “Plus, you’re on pumpkin and cookie duty. You already said. I figured we need something with apples.”
“You’re worrying too much, sweetheart,” Blaine murmured softly before kissing him again. “What happened to your post-honeymoon euphoria? Do I need to whisk you off to Europe again?” He laughed against Kurt’s hairline, and Kurt did chuckle at that. Honestly, that was part of the problem. Their eight day honeymoon over Blaine’s fall break had left him the most well rested he’d felt in years, leaving him with a false sense of security. Now, weeks later, every little detail was starting to nag at the back of his mind, driving him up a wall.
“That sounds quite un-American, my dear husband,” he quipped back. He sighed against Blaine’s cheek before giving him one last kiss. “Do you want actual dinner, or is cake and apples and pure sugar plenty?” he teased, going back to surveying his creations.
“After the day I’ve had,” Blaine replied, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist from behind, “cake is definitely plenty. Let’s have a taste testing party and call it a night.”
Kurt grabbed a knife to cut them each a slice. Cake made always made things better after all, right? He could worry again tomorrow.
***
His worry wasn’t all for naught, because the Monday before Thanksgiving was when it all really started to fall apart. Burt and Carole were set to arrive on Wednesday, staying in their guest room, but everyone else was opting to stay in Manhattan, Rachel’s parents with her and Finn and Blaine’s family at a hotel (they had plans to take Charlie and Tyler in all their five-year-old glory to the Macy’s parade before heading to Brooklyn for dinner that night).
Kurt worked late Monday, his last day before five days of ‘working from home’ (his office was closed up for half that time anyway), and when he arrived at the brownstone, he found Blaine curled up on the couch, dogs at his feet.
“Blaine - I just - I just realized on the train - where are we going to put everyone?” Kurt said breathlessly as he walked through the door, dropping his things immediately and heading to the kitchen to survey the plates and silverware situation. Their dining room table merely seated six, extended, and even pulling in their desk chairs, they still needed eight more chairs and one more table, at least.
Kurt had tried to be realistic in putting together their wedding registry. Sure, he’d loved the idea of lavish parties, but the idea of having service for sixteen in their tiny brownstone was silly at this point, and the idea of making other people fork over the cash for that extravagance when they didn’t have the shelf space for it was even sillier. He was regretting that decision now, however.
“If we mix our casual and our nicer china, we’ll have enough plates for everyone. At least I picked complimenting color palettes. Or, if some of us use the smaller ones I guess, then we can use our nicer china and everything would match exactly - I mean, Tyler and Charlie can use salad plates, and so can you and I, and Rachel’s still getting heartburn so we’ll make her use one too - oof -”
Kurt stopped mid-sentence when he turned around and came face to face with Blaine, who was placing his hands on his shoulders and kneading his fingertips into them. “So, the eating situation is under control then? We don’t need to buy more plates? Because I will, I will go right now.”
“I - I don’t think that’s necessary,” Kurt replied, and god, he really loved his husband. He’d spent the whole train ride getting worked up, and with one touch of his hands, Blaine had calmed him. “We do need to figure out a seating solution though.”
Blaine pursed his lips, drumming his fingers against Kurt’s shoulders. “Well, how often do we think we’re going to be doing this? Is it worth it to go get a folding table of some sort and some chairs? One that’s actually nice and doesn’t look like a folding table?” he added at the look of abject horror on Kurt’s face. “Come on. IKEA’s open until nine. Let’s go see what they have.”
Kurt really, really loved his husband. They wandered around and found something perfect that could be stashed in their third floor office when not in use and fed each other lingonberries and meatballs in the cafeteria for dinner.
Tuesday, Blaine had classes most of the day, but thankfully, he’d scheduled out of class assignments for all of his Wednesday classes for everyone’s benefit. Kurt truthfully didn’t mind; he planned to spend most of the day getting what cooking he could get done out of the way that morning and afternoon, plus cleaning, and fit in another run to the store at some point. The problem was, in all the haste the night before, he forgot to take out the turkey to defrost, and he wasn’t sure if it would have enough time at this point.
Things kept going downhill from there. The grocery was out of the apples he wanted, so he had to go with another choice. The steam cleaner broke on him halfway through cleaning the hardwood floors and it took him over an hour to get it working again. Blaine’s family, while he loved them dearly, was texting him constant updates on their travel plans since they knew Blaine was in class and he was at home. All eight of them were flying in from Columbus, and their flight was delayed again and again, which Kurt was sympathetic to, but he had enough to deal with himself. He half pictured them sitting around the airport asking, “Okay! Who’s turn is it to text Kurt?” and drawing straws.
By the time night fell, he’d given up, taken to slumping against the kitchen cabinets on the floor with the bowl of cranberry sauce he’d just made and eating it by the spoonful (it had fresh and dried cranberries mixed in and was one of his favorite things about Thanksgiving - he always bought enough supplies to make an extra batch for leftovers later the following week). Beau and Brady were sitting watching intently, hoping he’d drop some for them to sample - which wasn’t going to happen. He heard the click of the door at some point, signaling Blaine’s arrival home, but didn’t have the energy to get up and greet him.
Blaine must have taken his shoes off by the door, because Kurt only heard the soft padding of his socked feet before he appeared on the other side of the bar, looking over at him. “Oh, Kurt,” he said softly, coming around to crouch beside him, and Kurt set the bowl of sauce off to his right side where the dogs weren’t sitting. “Why didn’t you call to tell me your day was going so bad?”
“I didn’t have time inbetween your family texting me every five seconds,” Kurt retorted, but he sighed, unable to keep up the bitchiness for long, scrubbing a hand over his face. “They’re - they should be here by now, I think. My phone’s charging in the living room. I don’t think the turkey’s going to be defrosted in time, and it took me two hours to clean the floors because I spent half of that time trying to fix the stupid steam cleaner, among other things, and I’m just - done.”
“Sweetheart,” Blaine replied, with so much affection in his voice, Kurt had to shut his eyes before his emotions got the best of him. “I’m sorry my family is crazy. I’m sorry they drove you crazy. Let me take care of the turkey tomorrow, hmm? It just needs a little cold water bath in the sink, it’ll be fine. You are amazing, my amazing, wonderful husband, and I’m home until Monday now, and we’re going to make this the best Thanksgiving anyone in our families has ever been to.”
Kurt chuckled as Blaine’s lips brushed his forehead. His eyelids fluttered open to find his husband still crouching in front of him, knees almost in his lap where his legs were crossed, a warm smile on his face. “I’m glad you’re home,” he whispered, bringing their lips together, the familiar slide they’d perfected over the past four years. He heard a whine off to the side from one of the dogs and he grabbed the bowl of cranberry sauce, hoisting it in the air away from any wandering paws as he broke the kiss.
“So … you bought enough to make extras again this year right?” Blaine asked, his voice breathy as he took the bowl from him and set it on the counter above. Kurt quirked an eyebrow, nodding slightly as Blaine brought his fingers to his jaw to turn it gently. “Because you seem to have a bit right here …”
Blaine’s lips were against his throat instantly, licking where he seemed to have a splatter of cranberry sauce from earlier, probably when he was making it, warm heat sparking inside at the brush of them. “Mmm,” Blaine growled into his skin as he continued licking. “Good, because now I have half a mind to lick half of that bowl off of you.”
“Put the dogs up,” Kurt gasped, rocking up and seeking more from Blaine’s mouth, surprised at how fast the thought turned him on. Images of him licking the sweet concoction off Blaine’s torso and stomach and thighs flooded his brain, and yes, two could play that game. Blaine was off him in a flash, calling for the dogs behind him and taking them to the tiny den where he could shut the door.
Kurt poured a third of the cranberry sauce into a smaller bowl before stashing the rest in the fridge as to not defile their entire batch and yanked off his apron, as well as his long sleeved tee. Blaine had shed his clothes on the way to the den as well, only wearing his unbuttoned button-down, rolled to the elbows and hanging sinfully off his shoulders and his briefs, the outline of his half-hard cock visible as he stepped through the doorway.
At some point, Kurt had told Blaine he had a thing for his shirts hanging off him in that way, and he’d been using it to his advantage ever since. Kurt couldn’t complain.
Kurt watched as Blaine rummaged in the far drawer, behind the takeout menus and their collection of stolen pens, for the small bottle of lube he knew was there. Once found, he rushed over to Kurt, leaning against the counter, and was on him instantly, tossing the bottle next to the bowl and pressing in tight between his thighs. Kurt’s mouth found his again, the strain of the hard counter edge against his back only a mild annoyance compared to the way Blaine was pressed warm against his front.
Kurt’s head fell back as Blaine trailed kisses down his jaw, down to the long column of his neck. He heard Blaine reach for the bowl, felt Blaine’s fingers paint a streak of cool, sweet sauce across his collarbone, and moaned as Blaine’s tongue began to lap it up. The contrast between the heat of Blaine’s tongue and lips and mouth and the coolness of the cranberry dripping on his skin was causing his cock to twitch in the soft cotton pants he was still wearing, and he arched against Blaine, trying to seek friction against his bare thigh.
Blaine smiled against his skin as he reached for more sauce, letting it drip down Kurt’s chest, over his right nipple. Blaine flattened his tongue, laving at the spot where it’d collected and groaning at the taste, and Kurt groaned alongside him. The wet trails Blaine’s mouth left began to cool in the chill of the room the instant he moved on, gooseflesh forming in the sticky wake and he yearned for the warmth of Blaine’s mouth everywhere, but the urge to push Blaine to the floor and yank his briefs off was far stronger.
“Blaine,” Kurt whined, grappling at Blaine’s hips as he swirled his tongue around another line of sauce dripping down Kurt’s ribcage, but Blaine ignored his plea, grinning against his skin and continuing until it was clean of the deep red hue staining it, sending shivers down his spine. “Blaine,” Kurt whispered again, this time much more sharply, and Blaine finally obliged, coming up to kiss him square on the mouth, tasting the tartness from the cranberries once their tongues began to mingle.
“Get on the floor, it’s my turn,” Kurt murmured, and Blaine scoffed back. “I’ve barely just begun,” he pouted and Kurt chuckled in response.
“What do you want as a compromise? What’s our endgame here? You grabbed the lube, you must have some idea,” Kurt said, placing his palm flat against Blaine’s chest, forcing him backwards. Blaine looked up at him from underneath his thick lashes, as if he was contemplating his options, and Kurt surged forward, kissing him swiftly, nipping at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll make it worth your while …”
“You always do,” Blaine quickly returned, sighing against his lips. “Me riding you,” he finally decided, pulling Kurt with him away from the counter, and before Kurt knew it, Blaine was sprawled out in front of him on the hardwood floor, waiting patiently and looking perfectly criminal. Kurt wasted no time nuzzling against the soft hair of his stomach, placing a single kiss underneath Blaine’s belly button as he locked eyes with him.
He dipped his left hand in the bowl, coating his fingers with cranberry sauce and dragging them over the taut muscles of Blaine’s stomach, watching them tense under his touch. He brought his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean first, drawing each digit between his lips tortuously slow, swirling his tongue along each pad and then down further, staring intently as Blaine watched him, his eyes growing wider and wider. “Kurt,” he finally whispered brokenly, and Kurt gave in, licking a thick stripe just above where the tip of Blaine’s cock was poking out from his briefs, where they’d shifted down, all the way up to his belly button, lapping up the savory mess his fingertips had left.
Blaine groaned his name again, and Kurt used his hands to work his briefs off, freeing his trapped cock, as he simultaneously continued to suck and lick and kiss at Blaine’s stomach until it was clean of the sticky sweet sauce, until Blaine was breathing heavily underneath him, his chest rising and falling in Kurt’s eyeline. Kurt reached to dip his fingers again, this time painting the deep crease next to his thigh, coming dangerously close to his cock, to the point where Blaine actually whimpered as Kurt ran his tongue and teeth over the hard lines of the V before heading to the other side.
Kurt continued lower to Blaine’s strong thighs, the sensitive inner flesh for more of the same, more tart and sweet streaks and more slow drags of his mouth to whisk them away, to the point where his thighs began to shake, soft whines and moans escaping from his lips as Kurt’s tongue and teeth worked over the soft, often ignored skin, his fingers curled in Kurt’s hair to anchor him, and finally, a soft plea of, “Kurt, come on, please.”
“Hmm?” Kurt hummed just above his right knee, flattening his tongue and tracing a swirling pattern slow and leisurely as if he had no clue what Blaine wanted. He trailed his mouth idly up in the direction of Blaine’s cock, placing deliberate kisses along the inside of his thigh as he went. Only when Blaine whined again did he reach for the lube with his right hand, the one that hadn’t been reaching back and forth between the bowl. “Could kiss your thighs all night,” Kurt admitted with one last kiss to the crease above the one he’d been paying attention to, and Blaine merely dropped them open further in anticipation of what was to come, rolling his head further back against the wooden floor with a loud thunk.
Kurt slid two lubed fingers between his cheeks with practiced ease, the time for teasing through, though he couldn’t resist continuing to run his lips over Blaine’s opposing thigh as his fingers worked him open, Blaine’s cock twitching and shiny at the tip from being ignored for so long. His fingers twisted inside perfectly as he kept his mouth occupied, knowing just the right way by now to make Blaine’s body yield to his touch. “Now you’re taking too long,” Blaine whined, bucking against Kurt’s hand and arching his back, and when he removed his fingers to add more lube, Blaine was on him instantly, a hand to his chest pressing him flat to the ground, yanking off his pants in the process, and Kurt was ever so thankful for forgoing underwear earlier when he’d changed.
“Always so impatient,” Kurt murmured, his back adjusting to the slam of the hard wood of the floor underneath him suddenly. He gasped at the contact of Blaine’s lubed hand around his cock, everything happening so fast, but he certainly wasn’t mourning that fact. “Love this part,” he murmured again as Blaine lined up above him, running his hands over Blaine’s stomach and up his torso, his fingers catching on the few spots that were still sticky where his tongue hadn’t thoroughly cleaned. He loved looking up at Blaine’s reaction the first moment he slipped inside, loved the way his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and his mouth dropped open.
“Love you,” Blaine replied, smirking as the head of Kurt’s cock rubbed against his entrance, shifting to find just the right angle before sinking down over it. Kurt would have smirked himself at the predictable site before him if Blaine didn’t look so damn stunning and didn’t feel so wonderful around him. All he could do was loll his head further back against the floor and watch in amazement as Blaine slowly worked himself down until he bottomed out.
Once he did, all bets were off, both of them working to find a steady rhythm, Kurt’s hips snapping upwards as Blaine’s propelled him further down. Blaine’s brow was glistening with sweat already, even though the house was cool from the chilly air outside, a smile curling on his lips as he angled himself towards Kurt more, hands resting at either of his sides. Kurt had been wound tight all day from all the stress piling up, and now that he was finally inside Blaine, ever so tight around him, there was no way he’d do anything but snap under the pressure.
Blaine must have noticed, because he pressed a hand to Kurt’s chest again, pinning him to the ground and slamming down on his cock hard, pulling almost completely off before repeating the motion over and over, knowing it was the surefire way to make Kurt come the fastest. All Kurt could do was lay there and take it, a steady stream of practically nonsense slipping from his lips, just mumbling Blaine’s name over and over again. His orgasm finally hit, all of his worries from the day, the past week, melting away, fading to white, white nothing, and it was suddenly just him and Blaine and nothing else mattered.
He was vaguely aware of Blaine jerking himself off above him moments later, and he raised a hand to help, but before he could, Blaine was coming himself, thick streaks all over Kurt’s stomach. They were both covered in lube and come and spit and cranberry sauce remnants, god, and he’d just cleaned the floors earlier.
Kurt smiled to himself as Blaine pulled off, settling beside him on the floor. Blaine was home now. He could totally make him fight with the steam cleaner this time around.
“What are you so happy for?” Blaine teased, nipping at the side of his neck as he nuzzled in close, throwing a leg over Kurt’s.
“Everything,” Kurt answered simply, sighing happily as he leaned further into Blaine’s touch. “Just - everything.”
***
Kurt leaned against the doorjamb peering in towards the kitchen at his family, sipping his coffee. Everyone was scattered around the table, snacking on pie and crostata and cookies. Rachel was letting Tyler touch her bulging belly while Finn, Burt, and Ben were discussing the football games they were currently missing, and everyone else was still in deep discussions about the city and the sites they’d seen so far on their visit.
Except for Blaine. Kurt frowned slightly, but before he could wonder for long, he felt Blaine’s hands slip around his waist.
“Perfect. Just like I told you,” Blaine said softly, and Kurt’s eyes rolled backwards.
“Far from perfect, but I do think we’ll be able to convince them to come back for Christmas,” he replied, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly as Blaine’s head hooked over his shoulder to look out on the scene before him. “You really think this could be our thing? Ten years from now we’ll still be hosting Thanksgiving and Christmas, only things will be much more fabulous?” At Blaine’s laugh he added, “Hey, this was our first time, things can only get better from here.”
Blaine simply hummed in response, low against his ear. “They’ll probably get bigger too. How many more kids do you think Finn and Rachel will have? And Bradley and Josie haven’t even started yet.”
“However many kids until she pops out a girl. Evan Christopher Berry-Hudson is going to be the most spoiled kid ever, but Rachel wants a daughter,” Kurt replied, chuckling himself. “Josie let on that she and Bradley are already trying, so by next Thanksgiving we could have twice as many kids running around here. Imagine what it’ll be like in five. I could settle for a house full of kids. Twice a year,” he added quickly at the slight stiffening of Blaine’s arms around him, because they’d talked before they’d gotten married and neither one of them had been too keen on the idea of bringing children into their lives. Hell, Kurt hadn’t even wanted the dogs.
“Speaking of being fabulous uncles, Uncle Blaine,” he continued, which he totally loved and signed up for. “We’re taking Tyler and Charlie for the day tomorrow so Ben and Lelia can have a day to themselves. I figure we can take them to the zoo and Central Park. In payment, Ben is washing all the dishes tonight.”
“Man, you drive a hard bargain, Uncle Kurt. Giving up Black Friday shopping to babysit your nephews for a simple cleanup job?” Kurt could feel the smile against his neck, the curve of Blaine’s lips against his skin.
“I’m pretty sure Ben is also cleaning up in order to bribe me so he can come back and take over the living room to watch the OSU game with you and Bradley and our dads on Saturday. He has big game day plans I’m not exactly privy to. Lelia, Josie, and I are going shopping with your mom then. Carole opted out, figuring someone has to stay here and keep you boys in line.” Blaine’s hands flew from Kurt’s waist, and suddenly, Blaine was standing next to him, eyeing him warily. “What?” he asked, the amusement clear in his voice.
“That’s - all day? You’ve barely spent an hour with my mom without me, and you’re going shopping all day with her?” Blaine asked, sounding equal parts appalled and worried, and Kurt reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and laughed lightly.
“Blaine, it’s fine, I’ll have Lelia and Josie with me. I can handle myself, you know.”
“I have no doubt,” Blaine answered, knitting his eyebrows together, but finally giving in and laughing himself. They continued to stare at the scene before them, the makeshift tables pushed together and the china that didn’t match but it didn’t matter in the end, the smiles that were plastered on everyone’s faces. the mish-mash of families that came together to form one because of them.
Rachel looked up from the tiny hands on her stomach to catch Kurt’s eye. She waved them over, patting the empty chair next to her, and Kurt whispered, “I think we’ve been caught.”
As he sat down beside Rachel, Tyler climbing into his lap the instant he was seated, he realized he had more to be thankful for than he ever had before. He was a part of this - a part of that wonderful thing called family.
It wasn’t the end, far from it. It was a brand new start.