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Love Is The Little Things

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Between the hot weather and vicious swarms of mosquitoes that seemed to consider his flesh a delicacy, outdoor activities were not exactly Kurt Hummel’s favorite way to spend the summer. Every year, however, there were barbecues and every year he was dragged to at least one.

This year wasn't so bad, because this year he had Blaine. The other boy, it turned out, was the sort of person who thrived on summer. Three weeks into the season and he already resembled a Greek demi-god, all warmth and vitality, sun kissed with the beginnings of a tan. He dressed in plain khaki shorts and thin cotton t-shirts and ran around with no shoes on. He even, most days, released his unruly curls from the gels and pomades that shackled them into submission during the school year. He was free and full of sunshine and bright, easy smiles and sometimes Kurt’s heart ached with how wonderful he looked and how much Kurt was in love with this boy.

Other times he felt exhausted trying to keep up with him. Today had been one of those days.

They were at another barbecue, just the kids from New Directions hanging out in Mike Chang’s back yard. Kurt had spent the afternoon flitting from one end of the fenced in bit of grass to the other, chasing his boyfriend from group to group and activity to activity. Blaine was like an overenthusiastic puppy with social ADD - he always had to immediately travel to wherever the fun seemed to be at.

Kurt, quite frankly, needed a break. As the sun started to sink below the horizon he perched on the edge of Mike’s back porch and sipped a glass of ice cool lemonade. The stars were slowly blinking awake and fireflies were starting to make their presences known - so, unfortunately, were the mosquitoes. Kurt decided not to let that bother him tonight. He found himself lost in thought instead, mind wandering in lazy, abstract circles.

He didn’t realize he was no longer alone until Blaine (apparently having worn himself out as well) had already settled on the concrete next to him. He leaned over and nudged Kurt’s shoulder, smiling that private, special smile that Kurt had never actually identified what he’d done to deserve, just knew he hoped he kept on doing it. “Hey,” Blaine said, and gently cupped Kurt’s cheek with one hand, leaning in to kiss him soft and slow.

Kurt was surprised, but certainly not unpleasantly so. It felt nice, always did with Blaine, and he wasted no time in reciprocating. “Hi,” he mumbled against his boyfriend's lips. Blaine tasted of barbecue and the watermelon wedges that had been served for dessert. Kurt could smell the tangy smoke from the grill hanging in the air and, more intimately, the faint bit of sweat mingling with his boyfriend’s cologne. He felt intoxicated with it, with the moment and the feelings and this boy. All of it.

He leaned their foreheads together and smiled his own private smile as they pulled back, brushing his thumb along the scratchy five o’ clock shadow on Blaine’s jaw. “You taste like summer.” Somehow it had just become his favorite season.

Chapter Text

Night had fallen, the sun disappearing beyond the horizon in a blaze of glory and, Kurt was certain, an audible hiss of steam as it sank beneath the surface of a far away sea. The stars had come out to play in its stead, twinkling over head and swirling into patterns that had entranced many a star gazer before.

And although Kurt Hummel had felt the full force of their allure on more than one occasion - who hadn’t? - tonight his eyes were closed, lashes casting dark, spider leg shadows on his cheeks. The night air was still thick and warm, but it wasn’t unbearable. It was nice, in fact, compared to the heat of the day. Somewhere inside, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were listening to an old album on their record player and the sound of it drifting through the open windows is the only thing that breaks the peaceful, nighttime silence - that and the crickets.

Until he softly speaks, voice just above a whisper. “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?”

The answer is as prompt as it is simple. “Right here, with you.”

Kurt laughs at that, a quiet, almost silent chuckle. “You’re so cheesy,” he teases lightly, reaching out to playfully push Blaine’s face away without opening his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“Who says I’m not?” Blaine demands, and Kurt can hear the grin in his voice, feel the other boy shifting into a more comfortable position on the blanket beside him. “Wherever you are, that’s where I wanna be.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are an incorrigible flirt?” Kurt’s eyes finally fluttered open so he could look at Blaine with lifted brows, rolling on his side and propping himself up on an elbow.

Blaine scrunched his nose up and squinted, pretending to think about it. “I think it’s been mentioned once or twice, yeah,” he finally affirmed with a nod, “But,” he added, leaning over and pressing his lips to the corner of Kurt’s mouth, “you totally love it.”

“Shut up,” Kurt struggles to keep back a silly grin, “I do not.”

“Do so.”

“Do not.”

“Say it.”

“No!”

“Come on, just say it,” Blaine persists and leans in close, lowering his voice with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. “Or I’ll make you say it.”

But Kurt remains adamant, partially because if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s being stubborn, and partially because he recognized that tone of voice and it had always, in the past, been followed up by marvelous things. He shook his head and pantomimed zipping his lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the key.

“Then you leave me no choice. You want to play this the hard way?” Blaine rolled on top of Kurt, settling his weight on him and effectively pinning him to the blanket. He thought he could probably wiggle free, if he wanted to, but why would he when Blaine was looking down at him with a knowing smirk and ducking his head as if to kiss his neck? “Fine, we’ll play it the hard way.” Kurt grinned in anticipation, turning his head to the side to allow him easier access...

So you can imagine his surprise when Blaine proceeded to tickle him instead.

“Blaine!” Kurt shrieks and giggles, writhing under Blaine’s fingertips in a completely different manner than he’s used to as he attempts to wriggle out of his grip and away from the other boy. “Blaine, stop, stoppit!”

Blaine, however, is merciless. “Never!” He exclaims triumphantly, laughing himself as he continues his evil, evil tickling ways. “Not until you say it. Say it, Kurt!”

“No!” Kurt’s giggling helplessly now, swatting ineffectively at his boyfriend’s arms and attempting to curl up in a ball, protect his stomach. It’s not working, not even a little bit, and truth be told he’s not really that upset about it. It’s fun, it’s carefree, and everything he doesn’t allow himself to be around anyone else but Blaine. “You can’t make me.”

“Oh, can’t I?” Blaine seemed to take this as a challenge, redoubling his efforts until Kurt can’t even laugh anymore, can’t even breathe. He’s just rolled up tight like a roly poly, wheezing helplessly, tears springing to his eyes and shaking with silent chuckles.

“Okay!” He gasps out, when Blaine mercifully grants him a brief reprieve. “Okay. Fine. I love it. Are you happy?”

No. Of course not. “What was that, Kurt?” Blaine straddled his hips (which was, admittedly, a little distracting) and looked down at him with a wide grin, cupping the shell of his ear and angling it towards him. “I couldn’t hear you, Kurt. Kurt, I think you’ll need to repeat that for me.”

“You are so obnoxious.” Kurt rolled his eyes and let out an indignant huff, but he’s still sort of grinning because he can’t help it. Blaine makes him do that. Makes him grin and act like a fool. “I love it,” he obediently repeated.

Still not enough for his boyfriend. “Still can’t hear you, Kurt!” he laughs. “A little louder, Kurt!”

“Argh! I LOVE IT!” Kurt practically shouts, leaning up to sock Blaine on the arm before flopping back on the blanket, smiling up at him. His boyfriend is a beautiful, ridiculous human being. “Jerk.”

“Mmhmm,” Blaine said, completely ignoring him. He leaned down, resting his weight on his hands, placed on either side of Kurt, and brushed their lips together. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“It was totally hard,” Kurt whined, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “My pride is wounded. It may never recover.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” Blaine took on an exaggerated frown, not sounding in the least bit contrite. He brushed Kurt's hair back from his forehead and leaned in until their faces were just a hair's breadth apart, frown dissolving into a smug little smirk. “Here - why don’t I kiss it better?”

And, well, how can Kurt possibly say no to that?

Chapter Text

"Blaine," Kurt hissed, tugging insistently on his sleeve. "What are you doing? Have you never seen a horror movie? Because this is pretty basic. If you hear a creepy noise in the woods, you don't go towards it."

But Blaine just laughed and shook him off, continuing to push through the brush. "You're being ridiculous. It's probably just a rabbit."

"That's how it always starts," Kurt persisted, shaking his head as he (very reluctantly, he would like to point out) followed Blaine. "'Oh, it's probably just the cat. Oh, it's probably just the mailman dropping off that stuff I ordered off ebay. Oh, Dad probably just forgot his keys again.' And you know how it ends? Do you?"

Blaine paused in his trek long enough to make a sweeping gesture, eyebrows lifted in a silent request that Kurt enlighten him.

Kurt was only too happy to oblige.

"Death, Blaine. It always ends in - ahh!!” Kurt broke off with an ear piercing shirek as more rustling sounds shook the underbrush. He flailed and threw his arms around Blaine in a crushingly tight, terrified embrace, doing his absolute best to jump into the shorter boy’s arms. He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered. This was it. They were going to die. They were going to die out in the wilderness and no one would find their bodies for days and he would never get to have sex with Blaine ever. Because it was kind of hard to lose your virginity when you were dead.

But death did not come. Instead, quiet chuckles shook his boyfriend’s frame and after a few moments he nudged Kurt’s side, waiting for him to open his eyes. “See? I told you it was a bunny.”

Chapter Text

Blaine was flopped out at full length on the sofa, arms and legs splayed in comfortable inelegance and head resting in Kurt’s lap. Perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

“If you could have any kind of pet—”

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupted, the hand that been carding idly through Blaine’s hair coming to a standstill, “we’ve been through this. I don’t want a pet. Animals require a certain amount of care and attention, and I won’t have time for that when I go to New York next ye—”

Blaine lifted his hand and pressed his index finger to Kurt’s lips. “Shhh, I don’t want to hear your irrelevant facts,” he tutted. “This isn’t one of those boring, what-do-you-want-for-dinner, real life kind of questions. It’s a what if. What if you could have any pet in the world?” he reiterated, making a grand, sweeping gesture with both hands to emphasize the literally endless possibilities. “I’d have a dog. Simple, I know, but they’re so cuddly and fuzzy and loyal. A puppy wouldn’t tell me I looked like I dressed myself in the dark. They don’t judge.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and chose to ignore that jab. Any remarks on his part about Blaine’s questionable fashion sense were absolutely warranted. Instead, he pursed his lips and focused on the question at hand.

“I guess…” he said finally, after several quiet moments spent mulling it over. “I guess I’d want a unicorn.”

”Now we’re talking!” Blaine grinned, glad to see his boyfriend playing along and even getting creative with it. “You have to say why, though.”

“They’re majestic and wouldn’t shed on my clothing or furniture.” Kurt’s shoulders hitched in a pragmatic shrug. “They would be the ultimate accessory to any outfit, and they would never question my judgment or make sarcastic remarks or drool on my shoulder.” If Blaine could add in subtle, not-quite-serious boyfriend critique, so could Kurt.

Blaine, however, did not seem to appreciate this. “That was one time!” He sat up and crossed his arms, an indignant pout gracing his features. He’d just been really tired that day, okay? Jeez. “You don’t play this game right. Those were like, the worst reasons to choose a unicorn ever.”

“Oh really?” One meticulously groomed eyebrow lifted. “You asked a question and I answered it truthfully. What, pray tell, would you have liked me to say?”

“I don’t know. Unicorns are awesome and um… they can gallop over rainbows and, I don’t know, stuff like that!”

“My apologies, Mr. Anderson.” Kurt’s lips twitched, suppressing an a smile. “I’ll strive to be more nuts in the future.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hummel.” Blaine grinned back, leaning over to press his lips to Kurt’s cheek, frustration gone. It really was a silly thing to argue over, anyway. “I’d appreciate it.”

Chapter Text

Blaine loved to be the big spoon.

He knew that made him a complete dork and that, with their height differences, it looked ridiculous. He didn't care. It wasn't something he could help, it had just happened that way.

He loved the closeness. He was always hyper aware of Kurt's presence and every single place their bodies connected when they cuddled like that. He loved listening to the other boy's slow and steady breathing as he slept, and the soft, often unintelligible murmurs that made it past Kurt's lips while he dreamed. He loved being close enough that the hairs at the nape of Kurt's neck tickled his nose, and Blaine could smell the other boy's shampoo every time he inhaled.

He was pretty sure it was his favorite scent in the world.

And the thing was, Blaine always strived to be the strong one. He wanted to be that guy, the one who had it all figured out. In reality, he rarely felt that way. Quite the opposite actually. Most of the time he felt like he was stumbling around in the dark while trying to convince everyone that, no really, he didn't need glasses - he could see just fine.

But when his chest was pressed snugly to Kurt's back and his arms were wrapped around the other boy's torso with their legs in a comfortable tangle, everything was different. He felt, for once, like he was someobody's protector. Like it was his job to keep Kurt safe, and warm, and loved. It was a special kind of intimacy, a quiet kind. It made his head swim in this warm and fuzzy and totally awesome way.

It made him feel like this was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

Because he didn't know how to woo someone without dramatic musical numbers and making a complete ass out of himself, and he couldn't give good advice to save his life. He didn't know how to be himself when locked behind the dapper shield provided by the Dalton uniform, and he'd forgotten how to handle problems in the real world. He hadn't known how to stand up for himself and keep the bullies at bay, didn't know how to get over the guilt of letting them get to him.

But he knew how to hold Kurt, and that was enough to make up for all the things he didn't.

Chapter Text

The kiss was rough and messy and exactly what Kurt needed. It made his mind reel and his toes curl and, God, he liked the sweet little kisses they often exchanged, he liked when they took their time and let the heat build up slowly, like a little campfire. But there was hot, and then there was blazing, and this? This was the latter in a way he had never experienced before.

"What do you want?"

The sudden rush of power that hit him as Blaine rasped out those four simple words was as surprising as it was exhilarating. Oh. Oh, wow. He knew, in that moment, that Blaine would do whatever he asked him to. Jump off a bridge, run away to New York City, wear whatever Kurt chose to put him in, and other, more tantalizing things that Kurt wasn't comfortable putting into words, even in his own thoughts, but holy shit did he picture them. Another gasp ripped through him as his hips jerked forward of their own accord, because that thought... that sense of being in control... it was turning him on in ways he hadn't even thought possible.

He could have taken that moment to be selfish. When he thought about it, alone in his room or in the shower, he usually thought about Blaine doing things to him. Kissing and touching and nipping in these intimate places no one else ever saw or kissed or touched, in ways that made him feel amazing. But now that he was actually in a position where he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was calling the shots? All he could think about was Blaine. Making Blaine feel good, making him writhe. Drawing out those breathy little moans until he was babbling incoherently and the only word he was capable of forming was Kurt's name and oh, okay, that thought was... yeah. That was really doing it for him.

"Roll over," he all but growled, nudging Blaine until he rolled on his back so Kurt could straddle his hips. Ordinarily he would feel incredibly self conscious about this, feel so awkward and exposed at how much want he was letting show. But right now, as he clumsily pushed Blaine's shirt up and lifted it over his head, he felt uncharacteristically bold. Blaine clearly wanted to be here, trusted Kurt enough to put the power in his hands, so why not? Why not be bold?

His hands slid up Blaine's bare torso and across his shoulders, gliding down his arms until he could tangle their fingers together and raise their clasped hands above his boyfriend’s head. He leaned down until he was close enough to cover Blaine's mouth with his own, rocking their hips together as he licked into the other boy's mouth, massaging Blaine's tongue with his and kissing him with as much depth and passion as he could. Kurt felt as though if he could just get close enough, they’d melt and fuse together like some cheap, plastic based fabric and that shouldn’t have sounded so appealing - cheap fabric never did - but somehow, somehow it managed.

"You," he panted as they finally broke apart, breath hot against Blaine's ear. "I just want you."

Chapter Text

Kurt was supposed to be tired. That was how this always went in every historical romance he’d ever read - and he’d read a lot of them. The two main characters finally consummated their (usually forbidden) love and afterwards sank into a blissful slumber only to awaken scant hours later in a warm, comfortable tangle of limbs. (Until they realized they’d been barged in on, of course, usually by the villain or some outraged family member. Kurt was hoping to avoid that part.)

But he didn’t feel in the least bit like sleeping. Instead, he felt invigorated. His heart and mind were thrumming with it, with the weight of what they’d just done and what it meant. The way it had shifted parts of his heart and brain into new and dazzling pathways, how it had cemented everything that was already between them. The way it had felt - brief and awkward and fumbling but so very, impossibly good.

“That...” he struggled to formulate words capable of describing the experience, of articulating this thing that he was feeling. He realized fairly quickly that there were none, and settled instead on meeting Blaine’s eyes and clutching at his hand, squeezing it tightly.

Fortunately, the other boy seemed to understand. “Yeah,” he agreed, winding his arms around Kurt and shifting close. Kurt had to marvel at the way they fit together like this, like two interlocking puzzle pieces, their hearts as naked and bare and vulnerable to each other as their bodies had been. “That.”

And really, at the end of the day, that was all they needed to say. Their hearts already held all the words their lips didn’t know anyway, and they traded them in soft smiles and loving looks.

Chapter Text

Kurt feels crummy. More crummy, he's certain, than he's ever felt in his entire life. He's got a fever of 101º, a scratchy throat, and everything just plain hurts. His head, his joints, even his skin feels like it's crying. And to top it all off? Judging by the way it keeps lurching up into his throat he can only assume that someone has decided to turn his stomach into a trampoline testing facility.

It is not a pleasant feeling.

But he's not sick. He refuses to believe he might be sick. Kurt Hummel? Never sick.

So he goes to school despite this overall feeling of being a walking version of the plague. He sits through each class with his elbow propped up on the desk and his chin in his hand, focusing on simply existing until the bell rings and he is forced to trudge through the halls again. By lunch time he feels worse than ever and is exhausted to boot. Eating does not seem even remotely appealing. Food. Ugh. Gross.

Skipping the meal seems like a good idea. Instead, he decides to sneak in a nap, curled up in the back seat of the Navigator.

That's where Blaine finds him. Kurt hears a tapping on the window, interrupting his light doze and forcing him to crack open a bleary, reluctant eye. Oh. He sits up and puts in the strenuous effort it takes to lean over and unlock the door before collapsing back on the seat in an undignified heap.

"What?" he croaks as Blaine enters, gaze focused on the ceiling instead of the worried crease in his boyfriend's brow.

"I couldn't find you at lunch," Blaine explains. "I was worried."

This is one of the main problems brought upon one when sick (which Kurt is decidedly not, for the record). People start to get all fussy. Kurt grunts. "M'fine," he insists, rolling on his side with a heavy sigh so he can meet the other boy's gaze with his best attempt at an appearance of total health. He doesn't need a mirror to let him know that it is not entirely convincing. "Just not hungry. Sleepy. I was up late last night."

"You went to bed at 9:30, Kurt. You always text me goodnight, remember?"

Damn it. "It felt later...?" he tries, eyebrows raised hopefully. "And I tossed and turned so, yes. Still sleepy."

Blaine's eyes narrow. It's clear that he's not buying this. "You're sick," he states with authority, and reaches out to press a hand to Kurt's forehead.

Kurt bats it away. "Am not. I'm never sick."

"Well you are now. Kurt, you're burning up!"

It's becoming obvious that Blaine has every intention of being difficult about this. Kurt suppresses a frustrated groan.

"So m'a little warm!" he grouses, eyelids fluttering shut once more. Looking healthy takes more energy than he's got right now. "So what? I was, um... running. It's important to get in some exercise every once in a while, you know. For health and, um, stuff. Also why I'm tired."

Quite a brilliant bit of quick thinking, he thinks, but Blaine just rolls his eyes.

"Running," he repeats flatly. "In those pants? I mean, they look great." Blaine is seventeen years old and can't be blamed for the way his eyes flit over Kurt's figure momentarily. Kurt can't blame him either. These pants do look great. "But you always complain that you can barely sit down when you wear them. I sincerely doubt you managed to run."

Kurt swears under his breath and forces his eyes open, but only so he can shoot a glare in Blaine's direction. If looks could kill, Blaine would be a corpse right now. "Who died and made you the exercise police?" Kurt grumbles. "I'm... okay, I might be a tiny bit under the weather. But I can handle it, all right? Now go away." He flaps his hands, shooing Blaine towards the door. "I only have fifteen more minutes and then I have to get up and go to class."

"No you don't." Blaine isn't moving. "Give me your keys."

"What? Why?!"

"So I can drive you home dummy." He holds out his hand with a no-nonsense expression on his face, and Kurt knows he's not going to be able to talk his way out of this one. It's weird, because usually he is the one directing such looks at Blaine, but Kurt knows better than anyone how stubborn his boyfriend can be. It's a trait they have in common. "You need to rest," Blaine further insists.

Kurt sighs, but honestly? Fighting this is more trouble than it’s worth. "Fiiiine," he sighs, reluctantly fishing in his pocket and handing over his car keys.

Once he's home he has to admit (to himself, he won't admit it to Blaine, not yet) that he's relieved he doesn't have to force himself through the rest of the day. He somehow finds the strength to pull himself upstairs where he strips off his boots and obscenely tight blue jeans. He pulls on a pair of faded sweats and a ratty old t-shirt before flopping, face first, onto his bed.

...Only to let out a startled, embarrassed squeak a few minutes later when Blaine walks in toting a tray of tea and toast. "You - you... I thought you left!" He exclaims, cheeks red as he quickly scurries under the covers. He likes to think he exudes the air of a person who sleeps in something sleek and luxurious and most definitely designer instead of, well, this. He doesn't want to shatter the illusion. It's too early in the relationship for that.

Blaine, however, doesn't even seem to notice. He just rolls his eyes and sets the tray on Kurt's bedside table. "Don't be silly," he tuts. "I wouldn't leave you here alone in this condition."

"But I'm disgusting!!" Kurt laments, dramatically flailing his arms in defeat. This is just not his day, it's never going to be his day. He may as well accept it. "I am disgusting, and I'm horrible company. I'm this close to falling asleep again, I hope you realize that."

"Oh no you're not," Blaine wags an admonishing finger in his face (Kurt glares at it, but Blaine doesn't seem to care) before motioning towards the toast. "You're going to eat first. I know you don't feel well, but you're not going to get any better unless you keep your strength up."

Kurt mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously close to 'you're not the boss of me', but begrudgingly complies. Blaine perches on the edge of the mattress as Kurt nibbles his way through a slice and a half of toast and drinks an entire mugful of tea.

He does feel a lot better when he's done, but you won't catch him admitting it anytime soon. That'd make Blaine far too happy. "Can I go to sleep now?"

Mr. Bossy Pants seems satisfied for the time being. He nods and moves to take the tray again. "I'll just clean this stuff up."

Kurt stops him with a hand on his arm before he quite realizes what he's doing. "No, wait! I..." he blushes and ducks his head, peeking sheepishly up at Blaine through his eyelashes. Maybe he should have been nicer about all of this. Blaine really is trying to help, and when it comes right down to it, Kurt doesn't want him to go. "Stay with me? Please? Just until I fall asleep."

Blaine's expression softens and he nods, mouth tilting up in a smile full of indulgent affection. "Of course."

Kurt relaxes and closes his eyes, leaning back against the pillows. "Thanks," he mumbles, already feeling pleasantly drowsy and not-quite-there. "You're nice. I think I'll keep you."

He feels the mattress dip as Blaine lays down beside him, scooting in close and wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist. Ah, cuddles. They really are the best medicine. "I'm glad to hear that." Kurt, distantly, feels lips pressed softly to his temple. "I want to keep you, too."

"Yaaay," Kurt whispers, and slips contentedly into sleep.

Chapter Text

Blaine is hot.
 
Kurt doesn't mean this in an 'oh, you are so attractive my knees turn to jelly' way, although that is also true. No, Blaine is literally hot. It's like curling up next to a space heater.
 
Which would be awesome, given the fact that it's November and freezing outside, if the Andersons didn't keep their heat turned up so high. You wouldn't even know there was snow outside unless you peeked out a window. That coupled with Blaine’s abnormally intense body heat means that Kurt is two seconds away from breaking into an unseemly sweat.

But he's not going to say anything. He's not going to be a moment ruiner. He likes this, being curled up next to Blaine. It's nice. It’s always nice. He just wishes Blaine wasn’t so hot.

And that he could re-situate a little. Because this position had been super comfy when they’d first curled up together, when they were still coming down from that post-coital high. But he’s been stuck like this for fifteen minutes and his arm is pinned beneath him at an awkward angle and he really needs to move it.

But he doesn’t want to disturb things.

“This is nice,” he says instead, looking up at Blaine through his eyelashes with a soft smile.

--

And it is. It really is. Blaine agrees 100% that this is nice.

But he also has to pee.

He can’t just say that, though. It’s embarrassing. They were not yet to the point where they were comfortable discussing bathroom related things. At least not that kind of bathroom related thing. Skin care regimens? Sure. Their shampoo preferences? Most definitely.

But somehow he thought that bringing up the fact that he needed to urinate now, less than half an hour after their beautiful, life changing moment, would not go over well.

So he tries to ignore his need to squirm. “Yeah,” he agrees instead, and he even means it. He loves Kurt. Kurt is beautiful. How could he not mean it? He brushes their noses together, leans his forehead against Kurt’s. “Yeah, it is.”

--

At what point is it acceptable to end cuddling?

Kurt’s never been in this situation before and he doesn’t know the rules. There should be a guidebook. It should be issued out to teens the minute they embark on their first relationship because how else would they learn these things ?! But there isn’t a guidebook, no set of rules that he can turn to. He’s left to fumble through on his own.

He’s not very good at fumbling.

At this rate he’s going to be stuck here lying next to Blaine forever. Not that he doesn’t like it! Because he does. If he has to be stuck next to anyone of course he wants it to be Blaine.

It’s just that he has other things he needs to do, you know? And they have now been snuggled up for... (he shoots a stealthy glance at the clock) twenty-five minutes. His arm, he is certain, is permanently molded into that pinned-beneath-him position at this point. It may never work again.

But he doesn’t have the guidebook, so he doesn’t know if he can move yet.

Better to be safe than sorry, right?

--

Oh, God. Blaine is stuck in limbo.

He’s pretty sure that’s what this is. Time has ceased to exist inside his bedroom. It’s just him and Kurt, locked in an eternal snuggle.

You’d think he’d be happy about this. He probably should be. How many people get to brag about having awesome sexytimes followed by intense cuddling with boys who looked like they walked off of a runway and into Blaine’s bed? Not many.

But there’s still the fact that he has to pee. And it has been at least ten minutes since he had become conscious of the fact that his bladder is full. Which means that now? He really has to pee. It’s urgent.

He just doesn’t know how to say so. He doesn’t want Kurt to think he’s in any rush to get away from him, because he’s not. He’s just in a rush to get to the bathroom.

He doesn’t move, though. He’s given into his fate. This is like Groundhog Day but with cuddling. It’s never going to end.

--

And finally Kurt’s phone rings.

It breaks the spell, time moves forward again, and they roll away from each other while doing their best to suppress sighs of relief.

“I should get that,” Kurt says, snatching his iPhone off of the bedside table.

“Yes. You should. Do that.” Blaine nods eagerly, only half paying attention. He’s not even trying to hide his Pee Pee Dance anymore. He makes a beeline for the bathroom. “I’ll be right back!!”

--

So Kurt answers his phone and chats with Rachel for a few minutes before politely excusing himself and hanging up. He’s pleased to discover that his arm, while stiff, is still fully usable. Good. His signature shimmy was difficult to do with only one arm, and regardless of what Mike and Mr. Schue seemed to think this move was invaluable to their performances.

Kurt gives bitches jazz hands. Bitches love jazz hands.

Blaine comes out of the bathroom feeling much better about life. There’s a moment where they look from each other to the bed then back again.

Awkward silence.

Blaine breaks it first. He’s just escaped, he can’t go back there! “You know what? Let’s go downstairs and watch a movie.”

“Yes!!” Kurt agrees to this scheme readily, shoulders sagging in relief. “Yeah, let’s do that. I like movies. Movies are... good.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Awesome.”