[FIC] Drabbles from the Come Back 'Verse: All I Want Is You
title: All I Want Is You
rating: PG
summary: Blaine is ridiculous, Kurt puts up with it. Basically some domestic, sometimes a little angsty, Klaine fluff.
author's note: Various drabbles set in my RP-verse with blueb1rd . Timeline & masterlist can be found
here.
Kurt finds old photographs of Blaine and Thomas, feels awkward.
Tucked in one of the many cluttered drawers of Blaine’s desk is a set of faded photo-booth pictures. December 2, 2014 is scrawled on the back in unfamiliar handwriting. It’s too neat to be Blaine’s. His handwriting is more along the lines of ‘chicken scratch cursive.’ That’s besides the point, really, because handwriting styles aren’t the main focus of the photograph in question.
The photographs are of Blaine and Thomas, and seem to be from when the pair first started dating.
In the first photo, the two men share a tentative, hesistant smile - more focused on each other than the camera that will soon be snapping grainy photograph.
In the second, Thomas steals a quick peck on the cheek. Blaine looks like he has been caught off guard, but his surprised expression is still nothing sort of blissful. His eyes have fluttered shut, and his lips curl into a bright smile.
The third is a bit more rigid, obviously posed. Blaine leans his head on Thomas’s shoulder while both men give the camera a cheesy smile. It’s the sort of moment that tries to be candid even though it is so obviously planned.
The last photo would make one feel like they had invaded a deeply private moment just by looking at it. Blaine is cupping Thomas’s cheek, and has most likely managed to climb halfway onto his lap by the looks of things. How else would they be that impossibly close? The two share a chaste kiss for the camera, but it is quite clear that it didn’t end when the flashbulb went off.
Kurt moves in, deems Blaine's kitchen a disaster zone.
Blaine is perched on the counter, watching Kurt rifling through his refrigator. A trashcan is situated beside him, and various items have already been pitched. They have been living together for three days at this point. He’s mostly surprised that this moment hasn’t arrived sooner. An agitated huff escapes the brunette’s lips from time to time, as he makes some new, offensive discovery in the aforementioned refrigerator.
He remains in his spot on top of the counter (and that’s going to earn him a lecture sooner or later) sipping his ‘it’s too late to be drinking caffeine but I don’t care’ cup of coffee. His head is tilted to the side in an amused fashion, and he’s finding it hard to mourn the loss of things like regular soda and marshmellow fluff because Kurt is just so damned adorable and they live together.
Shacking up in sin has never felt more wonderful, he’s pretty sure.
Blaine finds the ring, decides he's going insane.
Blaine knows about the ring. Kurt wears his emotions on his sleeve half of the time, and he already knows that something is up. He figures it’s something like ‘fine, Blaine. We can get the puppy.. but I don’t want you complaining when you have to get up and walk him in the middle of the night. NO COMPLAINING.’ Because that would be awesome.
Of course, he’s not expecting to find the velvet box sitting in the caddy where Kurt keeps his endless collection of skin care products. It’s a good hiding place, Blaine has to admit. He never really has a reason to go into there. Unfortunately, Kurt probably isn’t expecting him to run out of q-tips and to end up rifling through his things that morning.
Oh.
He put the ring back in it’s proper hiding place, trying to mentally will his eyebrows to return to their rightful resting place.
He’s proposing? Was I supposed to propose? How does this work? Why can’t there for a rule book for this sort of thing?
He leaves for work that morning without saying a word to Kurt, later excusing his abruptness by explaining that he was running late for a morning meeting. It’s a lie, but Kurt seems to buy it. He manages to convince himself that the ring is a figment of his imagination brought on by sleep deprivation and the fact that he hasn’t had his morning cup of coffee.
And when Kurt proposes three months later, he’s just as surprised.
Blaine builds a sheet fort.. again.
“No,” Kurt announces as he walks in the door. “No, Blaine. We are grown adults. This is not happening. I’m going to walk back out the door, and when I come back in thirty minutes - I expect our living room to be restored to it’s original state.”
Blaine pops out of the sheet fort, bottom lip jutting out in a pronounced pout. “But Kuuuuurt--”
“No buts. You have thirty minutes,” Kurt heaves an exasperated sigh, twirling his keys around a finger while lingering in the open doorway. “People trust you with lives, Blaine. You take care of children, for crying out loud. How would your superiors feel if they knew that this was how you spent your day off?’
“They would feel that I am awesome,” Blaine says defiantly, crossing his arms as if to hold his ground. “The sheet fort is staying.”
“Blaine!”
“Don’t you want to know why I spent the day setting up a sheet fort? I have plans, Kurt,” Blaine coyly crooks a finger towards him, trying to convince Kurt to join him in the sheet monstrosity.
“Plans?”
“Plans.”
The door barely slams closed before Kurt dives into the sheet fort. He figures he can continue to humor Blaine’s perpetual inner child if he gets something out of the deal.
Blaine tries to cook and it's obviously a success.
“I didn’t burn the apartment building down?” Blaine offers as he stabs at his chow-mein with unnecessary force. As if the take-out did something to deeply offend him. He feels that the fact that their building is still intact is an accomplishment in itself - even if he’s pretty sure that their shared apartment is going to smell like burnt eggs for at least another couple of days.
“Don’t sound so proud, Blaine. You very nearly did,” Kurt points out, gesturing with a chopstick for emphasis. “And more importantly, frittata isn’t even meant for dinner. I’m appalled at your lack of culinary knowledge. It’s just.. ugh, I can’t even talk about this right now.”
“Really?” Blaine quirks an eyebrow, casting his boyfriend a look of disbelief. “That’s your primary concern right now?”
rating: PG
summary: Blaine is ridiculous, Kurt puts up with it. Basically some domestic, sometimes a little angsty, Klaine fluff.
author's note: Various drabbles set in my RP-verse with blueb1rd . Timeline & masterlist can be found
here.
Kurt finds old photographs of Blaine and Thomas, feels awkward.
Tucked in one of the many cluttered drawers of Blaine’s desk is a set of faded photo-booth pictures. December 2, 2014 is scrawled on the back in unfamiliar handwriting. It’s too neat to be Blaine’s. His handwriting is more along the lines of ‘chicken scratch cursive.’ That’s besides the point, really, because handwriting styles aren’t the main focus of the photograph in question.
The photographs are of Blaine and Thomas, and seem to be from when the pair first started dating.
In the first photo, the two men share a tentative, hesistant smile - more focused on each other than the camera that will soon be snapping grainy photograph.
In the second, Thomas steals a quick peck on the cheek. Blaine looks like he has been caught off guard, but his surprised expression is still nothing sort of blissful. His eyes have fluttered shut, and his lips curl into a bright smile.
The third is a bit more rigid, obviously posed. Blaine leans his head on Thomas’s shoulder while both men give the camera a cheesy smile. It’s the sort of moment that tries to be candid even though it is so obviously planned.
The last photo would make one feel like they had invaded a deeply private moment just by looking at it. Blaine is cupping Thomas’s cheek, and has most likely managed to climb halfway onto his lap by the looks of things. How else would they be that impossibly close? The two share a chaste kiss for the camera, but it is quite clear that it didn’t end when the flashbulb went off.
Kurt moves in, deems Blaine's kitchen a disaster zone.
Blaine is perched on the counter, watching Kurt rifling through his refrigator. A trashcan is situated beside him, and various items have already been pitched. They have been living together for three days at this point. He’s mostly surprised that this moment hasn’t arrived sooner. An agitated huff escapes the brunette’s lips from time to time, as he makes some new, offensive discovery in the aforementioned refrigerator.
He remains in his spot on top of the counter (and that’s going to earn him a lecture sooner or later) sipping his ‘it’s too late to be drinking caffeine but I don’t care’ cup of coffee. His head is tilted to the side in an amused fashion, and he’s finding it hard to mourn the loss of things like regular soda and marshmellow fluff because Kurt is just so damned adorable and they live together.
Shacking up in sin has never felt more wonderful, he’s pretty sure.
Blaine finds the ring, decides he's going insane.
Blaine knows about the ring. Kurt wears his emotions on his sleeve half of the time, and he already knows that something is up. He figures it’s something like ‘fine, Blaine. We can get the puppy.. but I don’t want you complaining when you have to get up and walk him in the middle of the night. NO COMPLAINING.’ Because that would be awesome.
Of course, he’s not expecting to find the velvet box sitting in the caddy where Kurt keeps his endless collection of skin care products. It’s a good hiding place, Blaine has to admit. He never really has a reason to go into there. Unfortunately, Kurt probably isn’t expecting him to run out of q-tips and to end up rifling through his things that morning.
Oh.
He put the ring back in it’s proper hiding place, trying to mentally will his eyebrows to return to their rightful resting place.
He’s proposing? Was I supposed to propose? How does this work? Why can’t there for a rule book for this sort of thing?
He leaves for work that morning without saying a word to Kurt, later excusing his abruptness by explaining that he was running late for a morning meeting. It’s a lie, but Kurt seems to buy it. He manages to convince himself that the ring is a figment of his imagination brought on by sleep deprivation and the fact that he hasn’t had his morning cup of coffee.
And when Kurt proposes three months later, he’s just as surprised.
Blaine builds a sheet fort.. again.
“No,” Kurt announces as he walks in the door. “No, Blaine. We are grown adults. This is not happening. I’m going to walk back out the door, and when I come back in thirty minutes - I expect our living room to be restored to it’s original state.”
Blaine pops out of the sheet fort, bottom lip jutting out in a pronounced pout. “But Kuuuuurt--”
“No buts. You have thirty minutes,” Kurt heaves an exasperated sigh, twirling his keys around a finger while lingering in the open doorway. “People trust you with lives, Blaine. You take care of children, for crying out loud. How would your superiors feel if they knew that this was how you spent your day off?’
“They would feel that I am awesome,” Blaine says defiantly, crossing his arms as if to hold his ground. “The sheet fort is staying.”
“Blaine!”
“Don’t you want to know why I spent the day setting up a sheet fort? I have plans, Kurt,” Blaine coyly crooks a finger towards him, trying to convince Kurt to join him in the sheet monstrosity.
“Plans?”
“Plans.”
The door barely slams closed before Kurt dives into the sheet fort. He figures he can continue to humor Blaine’s perpetual inner child if he gets something out of the deal.
Blaine tries to cook and it's obviously a success.
“I didn’t burn the apartment building down?” Blaine offers as he stabs at his chow-mein with unnecessary force. As if the take-out did something to deeply offend him. He feels that the fact that their building is still intact is an accomplishment in itself - even if he’s pretty sure that their shared apartment is going to smell like burnt eggs for at least another couple of days.
“Don’t sound so proud, Blaine. You very nearly did,” Kurt points out, gesturing with a chopstick for emphasis. “And more importantly, frittata isn’t even meant for dinner. I’m appalled at your lack of culinary knowledge. It’s just.. ugh, I can’t even talk about this right now.”
“Really?” Blaine quirks an eyebrow, casting his boyfriend a look of disbelief. “That’s your primary concern right now?”