Sunday Best (Klaine)
Title: Sunday Best
Author: heroes_and_cons
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine (future)
Rating: pg-13 (some ~adult~ themes)
Word Count: 1,381
Summary: Blaine and Kurt, young twenty-somethings just out of college, start a new life of their own in California.
~~~
Kurt is pretty damn proud of their little apartment.
Half of the boxes have yet to be unpacked, and as of now their bed is two king-sized mattresses stacked one on top of the other. The apartment itself doesn’t even have a bedroom - it’s one large living space, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom, and a closet. But they have a view of the beach, and as of now it’s just enough space for the two of them (although Kurt has spent the past few weeks trying to convince Blaine to adopt a kitten).
Despite their almost nonexistent budget, Kurt has managed to make their place look, quite frankly, like a page out of Pottery Barn. He’d splurged on ivory medallion bedding - which goes well with the darker cream curtains - and a beige area rug that feels unbelievably soft on his bare feet. Almost everything else has been borrowed, taken from home, or bought at thrift stores: the mismatching photo frames hanging on the walls (which look misshapen and disorganized, in a very endearing sort of way); the worn armoire that doubles as a dresser and a TV stand (Blaine calls it battered, but Kurt prefers to think of it as vintage); the white Christmas lights strung haphazardly around the doorframes and along the bookshelves (“A perpetual Christmas,” Kurt had explained).
Now, Kurt stands in the center of the room with his arms folded satisfactorily across his chest as he admires his handiwork.
“I think I have a newfound appreciation for what you do for a living.”
Kurt turns to see Blaine emerge from the bathroom, wisps of steam trailing in his wake. He’s wearing an old T-shirt with the characters of Toy Story on the front and faded jeans - what he calls his “Sunday wardrobe.” He wraps a towel around his neck, drying the edges of his damp hair, and walks to the center of the room.
“It looks great,” Blaine smiles, glancing around the apartment. He pauses, his eyebrows furrowing, and nods towards the kitchen. “Is that…do I smell cookies?”
“It’s a candle,” Kurt laughs. “I may be good at decorating, but you should know by now that putting me in a kitchen yields disastrous results.”
Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt and kisses his forehead. “It’s kind of weird, though,” he murmurs.
“The candle? I can blow it out-”
“No, I mean, having our own place. We’re adults now, aren’t we?”
“I guess we are,” Kurt laughs. He slips out of Blaine’s grasp and straightens his face. “But that means we have to do adult things.”
“Oh?” Blaine raises an eyebrow.
“Like take out the trash,” Kurt says, walking over to the window. “Pay the bills. Clean. Go to work.”
“You’re acting like you’ve never done any of those things before,” Blaine says, coming up beside Kurt.
“…but now we’re on our own. Really on our own.”
Blaine shrugs. “I like it that way.” He slips an arm around Kurt’s waist. “Besides, I was thinking of other adult things we could do.”
Kurt sighs and glances around Blaine’s shoulder. “But I just finished making the bed,” he groans.
Blaine leans down, planting a trail of kisses along Kurt’s collarbone, neck, jaw. “We won’t mess it up,” he breathes.
They’ve been together for years now, and Kurt knows that he should have gotten used to this a long time ago - the feeling of Blaine’s hands grazing his ribcage; the way Blaine’s lips made his skin tingle and burn; the chills that reverberated along his spine when Blaine’s fingers tangled in Kurt’s hair. He should be very used to this, and yet every time it’s new and fresh and exhilarating; every time, his knees still buckle and his heart drums with anticipation.
“You need to make the bed again later,” Kurt manages.
“Deal,” Blaine laughs, pulling Kurt down into the ivory medallion sheets.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
It’s dark outside by the time Kurt wakes up.
He sometimes hates that sex always makes him sleepy; despite it being in the middle of the afternoon, he had drifted off in Blaine’s arms hours earlier. Frankly, he’s also a little annoyed at Blaine for not having woken him up before, because now his sleep schedule is going to be messed up, and he has to work tomorrow morning.
Kurt rolls over and rubs his eyes. From where he’s lying he can see Blaine, who is wearing nothing but jeans, standing with his back facing Kurt. His voice is hushed, and Kurt realizes he’s holding a phone to his ear.
“…no. You know why. Because-no! Mom, I’m not doing this right now.” Blaine leans against the kitchen counter, holding his head in his free hand. “Jesus Christ, Mom, stop it. Okay…okay. Fine. Bye.”
He sets the phone down and turns around so quickly that Kurt doesn’t even have time to pretend he’s been asleep.
Blaine says nothing. He walks over to the window ledge and sits down, hugging his knees to his chest. “She wanted to know if I was coming home for Christmas this year.”
Kurt sighs and sits up, gingerly running a hand through his tousled hair. “And you said no.”
Blaine shakes his head and leans against the glass windowpane. “I’m not going to go there alone and pretend you’re not a part of my life,” he murmurs. “Alex was nineteen when he first brought a girl home for the holidays, but the second I ask about you - God, I shouldn’t even have to ask! But I do and she just says that there isn’t enough room for an extra guest. Bullshit,” he mumbles.
Kurt finds his v-neck T-shirt buried somewhere beneath the sheets and pulls it over his head before standing and walking over to Blaine. He nestles himself in between Blaine’s knees and laces their fingers together.
“Then we get to have our own Christmas,” he smiles. “We can get our own tree and…” he waves a hand at the walls. “And we’ve already got lights up. We can start our own silly Christmas traditions, like…like ordering in Chinese food for dinner. Or opening one present on Christmas Eve.”
Blaine leans in slightly, tightening his grip on Kurt’s hands. “Keep going.”
“And every time we travel somewhere new and exotic, we’ll get a Christmas ornament from that place,” Kurt murmurs, “so that years from now, we can sit around the tree and tell our kids stories about all the things we saw.”
Blaine cocks his head and smiles. “You think about stuff like that?”
“What?” Kurt blushes.
“You know. Kids.”
“A little bit.” Kurt ducks his chin. “I mean, we won’t be living here, obviously. Maybe
we’ll have a house. With a yard, so that the dog could run around.”
“I thought you wanted a cat,” Blaine laughs.
“We’d have one of each, because as much as the kids love the cat, they really want a dog to run around with.”
“Hmm…and how many kids were you thinking of?”
Kurt half-shrugs. “Ideally, we’d adopt twins, a boy and a girl. But, you know, it doesn’t really matter. They’d be very well-rounded, though - I could give them voice lessons, and you could teach them piano and guitar. Or if they wanted to join a sport or a theater group or a debate team, they could do that, too.”
Blaine grins and untangles his hands, cupping them around Kurt’s cheeks and kissing him. “Did I ever mention how much I love you?”
“Mmm…I think it may have come up before…”
“Our own Christmas.” Blaine smiles and sighs. “We really are doing adult things now, aren’t we?”
“Actually,” Kurt whispers, resting his forehead against Blaine’s, “I was hoping we could do some more of the adult things we were doing a few hours ago.”
Blaine contorts his face into a mock grimace. “Do I still have to make the bed later?”
“Yes! We had a deal!”
But Blaine laughs and takes Kurt’s hand, and together they fall into their bed in a mess of tangled limbs and saccharine kisses.
~~~
PS - i'm currently working on a very long klaine au fic set in the 1950s, so keep an eye out for that ;)
Author: heroes_and_cons
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine (future)
Rating: pg-13 (some ~adult~ themes)
Word Count: 1,381
Summary: Blaine and Kurt, young twenty-somethings just out of college, start a new life of their own in California.
~~~
Kurt is pretty damn proud of their little apartment.
Half of the boxes have yet to be unpacked, and as of now their bed is two king-sized mattresses stacked one on top of the other. The apartment itself doesn’t even have a bedroom - it’s one large living space, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom, and a closet. But they have a view of the beach, and as of now it’s just enough space for the two of them (although Kurt has spent the past few weeks trying to convince Blaine to adopt a kitten).
Despite their almost nonexistent budget, Kurt has managed to make their place look, quite frankly, like a page out of Pottery Barn. He’d splurged on ivory medallion bedding - which goes well with the darker cream curtains - and a beige area rug that feels unbelievably soft on his bare feet. Almost everything else has been borrowed, taken from home, or bought at thrift stores: the mismatching photo frames hanging on the walls (which look misshapen and disorganized, in a very endearing sort of way); the worn armoire that doubles as a dresser and a TV stand (Blaine calls it battered, but Kurt prefers to think of it as vintage); the white Christmas lights strung haphazardly around the doorframes and along the bookshelves (“A perpetual Christmas,” Kurt had explained).
Now, Kurt stands in the center of the room with his arms folded satisfactorily across his chest as he admires his handiwork.
“I think I have a newfound appreciation for what you do for a living.”
Kurt turns to see Blaine emerge from the bathroom, wisps of steam trailing in his wake. He’s wearing an old T-shirt with the characters of Toy Story on the front and faded jeans - what he calls his “Sunday wardrobe.” He wraps a towel around his neck, drying the edges of his damp hair, and walks to the center of the room.
“It looks great,” Blaine smiles, glancing around the apartment. He pauses, his eyebrows furrowing, and nods towards the kitchen. “Is that…do I smell cookies?”
“It’s a candle,” Kurt laughs. “I may be good at decorating, but you should know by now that putting me in a kitchen yields disastrous results.”
Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt and kisses his forehead. “It’s kind of weird, though,” he murmurs.
“The candle? I can blow it out-”
“No, I mean, having our own place. We’re adults now, aren’t we?”
“I guess we are,” Kurt laughs. He slips out of Blaine’s grasp and straightens his face. “But that means we have to do adult things.”
“Oh?” Blaine raises an eyebrow.
“Like take out the trash,” Kurt says, walking over to the window. “Pay the bills. Clean. Go to work.”
“You’re acting like you’ve never done any of those things before,” Blaine says, coming up beside Kurt.
“…but now we’re on our own. Really on our own.”
Blaine shrugs. “I like it that way.” He slips an arm around Kurt’s waist. “Besides, I was thinking of other adult things we could do.”
Kurt sighs and glances around Blaine’s shoulder. “But I just finished making the bed,” he groans.
Blaine leans down, planting a trail of kisses along Kurt’s collarbone, neck, jaw. “We won’t mess it up,” he breathes.
They’ve been together for years now, and Kurt knows that he should have gotten used to this a long time ago - the feeling of Blaine’s hands grazing his ribcage; the way Blaine’s lips made his skin tingle and burn; the chills that reverberated along his spine when Blaine’s fingers tangled in Kurt’s hair. He should be very used to this, and yet every time it’s new and fresh and exhilarating; every time, his knees still buckle and his heart drums with anticipation.
“You need to make the bed again later,” Kurt manages.
“Deal,” Blaine laughs, pulling Kurt down into the ivory medallion sheets.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
It’s dark outside by the time Kurt wakes up.
He sometimes hates that sex always makes him sleepy; despite it being in the middle of the afternoon, he had drifted off in Blaine’s arms hours earlier. Frankly, he’s also a little annoyed at Blaine for not having woken him up before, because now his sleep schedule is going to be messed up, and he has to work tomorrow morning.
Kurt rolls over and rubs his eyes. From where he’s lying he can see Blaine, who is wearing nothing but jeans, standing with his back facing Kurt. His voice is hushed, and Kurt realizes he’s holding a phone to his ear.
“…no. You know why. Because-no! Mom, I’m not doing this right now.” Blaine leans against the kitchen counter, holding his head in his free hand. “Jesus Christ, Mom, stop it. Okay…okay. Fine. Bye.”
He sets the phone down and turns around so quickly that Kurt doesn’t even have time to pretend he’s been asleep.
Blaine says nothing. He walks over to the window ledge and sits down, hugging his knees to his chest. “She wanted to know if I was coming home for Christmas this year.”
Kurt sighs and sits up, gingerly running a hand through his tousled hair. “And you said no.”
Blaine shakes his head and leans against the glass windowpane. “I’m not going to go there alone and pretend you’re not a part of my life,” he murmurs. “Alex was nineteen when he first brought a girl home for the holidays, but the second I ask about you - God, I shouldn’t even have to ask! But I do and she just says that there isn’t enough room for an extra guest. Bullshit,” he mumbles.
Kurt finds his v-neck T-shirt buried somewhere beneath the sheets and pulls it over his head before standing and walking over to Blaine. He nestles himself in between Blaine’s knees and laces their fingers together.
“Then we get to have our own Christmas,” he smiles. “We can get our own tree and…” he waves a hand at the walls. “And we’ve already got lights up. We can start our own silly Christmas traditions, like…like ordering in Chinese food for dinner. Or opening one present on Christmas Eve.”
Blaine leans in slightly, tightening his grip on Kurt’s hands. “Keep going.”
“And every time we travel somewhere new and exotic, we’ll get a Christmas ornament from that place,” Kurt murmurs, “so that years from now, we can sit around the tree and tell our kids stories about all the things we saw.”
Blaine cocks his head and smiles. “You think about stuff like that?”
“What?” Kurt blushes.
“You know. Kids.”
“A little bit.” Kurt ducks his chin. “I mean, we won’t be living here, obviously. Maybe
we’ll have a house. With a yard, so that the dog could run around.”
“I thought you wanted a cat,” Blaine laughs.
“We’d have one of each, because as much as the kids love the cat, they really want a dog to run around with.”
“Hmm…and how many kids were you thinking of?”
Kurt half-shrugs. “Ideally, we’d adopt twins, a boy and a girl. But, you know, it doesn’t really matter. They’d be very well-rounded, though - I could give them voice lessons, and you could teach them piano and guitar. Or if they wanted to join a sport or a theater group or a debate team, they could do that, too.”
Blaine grins and untangles his hands, cupping them around Kurt’s cheeks and kissing him. “Did I ever mention how much I love you?”
“Mmm…I think it may have come up before…”
“Our own Christmas.” Blaine smiles and sighs. “We really are doing adult things now, aren’t we?”
“Actually,” Kurt whispers, resting his forehead against Blaine’s, “I was hoping we could do some more of the adult things we were doing a few hours ago.”
Blaine contorts his face into a mock grimace. “Do I still have to make the bed later?”
“Yes! We had a deal!”
But Blaine laughs and takes Kurt’s hand, and together they fall into their bed in a mess of tangled limbs and saccharine kisses.
~~~
PS - i'm currently working on a very long klaine au fic set in the 1950s, so keep an eye out for that ;)