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Anger Management

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Kurt comes home to a broken air-conditioner. This is more than enough to push his irritation up a full notch

He's been dealing with a new boss since Monday, a woman who has been in the industry so long that she thinks she'd invented fashion, and even though he respects her experience their personalities and styles are already clashing, which does not bode well.

And then he discovers that they must have mice, because his instant oatmeal packets have been chewed open and there are little brown dots of vermin excrement everywhere in that particular cabinet. He throws away literally everything that isn't sealed in thick plastic or metal, and has a small tantrum in the middle of their joke of a kitchen; they can't afford to throw away groceries any more than they can afford an electrician to come repair the air conditioning.

It's eighty degrees in the apartment. His mood spirals rapidly downward. He tries to make himself useful by unpacking some of the boxes that they still have stacked in the bedroom, and then he realizes that he can't find his box of Marc Jacobs 2012 summer collection shirts that Rachel had given him as a birthday gift and he has another tiny tantrum.

Blaine comes home from work late and dinner is cold on the table. He hadn't called. Kurt is livid.

"Did you forget your phone at home?" he barks as soon as the door is shut.

"God, it's hot in here," Blaine sighs, shrugging his bag onto the couch. "I'm sorry. I put it on silent during rehearsal and forgot to turn it back on." He sits at the table. "Is the AC broken?"

"Brilliant observation," Kurt snaps, flopping petulantly into a chair at their tiny kitchen table.

Blaine stares at him. "I'll call the landlord tomorrow."

"He won't do anything. He didn't the last time."

"Then I'll call an electrician."

"We don't have money for one."

Blaine throws down a napkin. Kurt knows that he's irritated by the cold food, but he'd never say so. "Well, Kurt, we'll have to find the money, because this is going to get unbearable pretty quickly. If we start running fans day in and day out it'll be just as expensive when the electric bill comes."

"We don't have the money, Blaine. I had to throw away all of the dry goods," Kurt adds, practically snapping. "We have mice. So it's either groceries or an electrician."

"The damned landlord is going to cover an exterminator, at the very least, or I'm going to take him to small claims court," Blaine grumbles, standing and opening the cabinets, as if Kurt telling him isn't enough and he has to look for himself.

"And while we're on the subject of what went wrong today," Kurt adds. "I couldn't find my 2012 Marc Jacobs box and I know that you unloaded the boxes the day that we finished moving that stuff."

Blaine sighs. "Kurt, I have no idea. That was months ago and we accounted for everything at the time."

"Those were a gift, you know. I really don't appreciate how sloppy you can be about my things. I don't see any of your things missing, now do I?"

Kurt is vibrating with bitchiness, but it's like seeing himself through a third party point of view; he knows he's being an asshole but he can't stop. It's like verbal diarrhea and he just keeps on spewing.

"Would you stop it?" Blaine growls. "You're taking it all out on me, your whole shitty week. I don't appreciate it, Kurt."

"Well, maybe if you actually made a call now and then instead of always relying on me to field every shitty thing that happens to us, I wouldn't get this stressed," Kurt snarls.

"God, would you just--shut up. Shut up for a second and listen to yourself, you are being so unfair," Blaine shouts.

"Yeah?" Kurt whispers, flat and dangerous. "Make me." He doesn't intend to say that, but those are the words that come out of his mouth. His pulse is hammering against his throat and he is so flushed that he can feel the heat pound in the tips of his ears.

Blaine is staring at him, twisted up and frustrated and upset. Kurt's been on edge all day and--fuck, he still is, he is right on that damned edge, and his agitation has been whipped to a furious peak by their sniping.

"Yeah?" Blaine breathes, eyes narrowing. He looks dangerous for a second, and Kurt holds his breath.

"Yeah," Kurt replies, laying on the sass.

Blaine grabs him by his hair and kisses him roughly, slamming him back into the kitchen counter.

Kurt growls--and then groans, shock hammering through his system with all the subtly of on oncoming freight train as Blaine shoves a tongue down his throat and slams their hips together.

"God, you are hot when you're being a raging bitch," Blaine snarls, sucking Kurt's bottom lip into his mouth and biting it hard enough to make Kurt whimper in pain. Kurt opens his mouth, but Blaine kisses his lips shut. "Shut up. I meant it. Shut up and turn around."

Kurt pants, eyes wide, breath coming fast. He turns around, heart fluttering at every pulse point, so turned on so fast that it actually hurts. A rush of endorphins from both the shock and the arousal makes his head spin. He hears Blaine fumbling in the utility drawer, and gasps when he hears the telltale click of the cap of the tube of lubricant that they'd thrown there because it was almost empty and they have half a dozen scattered around anyway.

Blaine pulls his boxers down around his thighs and comes up snug behind him, biting the back of his neck and pushing him hard against the cabinets. "You've been wound like a spring all day, I can tell," Blaine hisses, working one lubricant-coated finger against Kurt's hole.

Kurt can't deny that he is powerfully excited by the roughness of the touch, by how quick it has come to this; he breathes heavily, not wanting to say anything, feeling the tension that has held him prisoner all day bleed out as Blaine pushes a second finger inside of him.

"Quiet now, huh?" Blaine breathes, licking a path down between Kurt's shoulder blades. "Bend down for me."

Kurt bends, gasping when Blaine pushes his head down to the bread box that sits on the counter. Blaine fucks into him, slow and steady, and he hisses at the burn as his body stretches.

He isn't even hard, and something about that just--makes it better. Like this is all for Blaine. Like he's taking it out Kurt for being a jerk to him from the moment he got home. Like Kurt deserves it. Kurt shivers, whining softly and gripping the counter as Blaine begins to fuck him with short, hard strokes.

"Blaine," he gasps.

"Don't," Blaine growls. "Just take it. Take it, Kurt."

His cock is definitely catching up; he can feel it fill slowly as Blaine fucks him harder and faster, digging marks into his lily-white hips. Crouching down to make this possible with their height difference makes his muscles ache, and something about that drives him crazy. His erection is bumping the cabinet now, the edge of the wood a little too sharp for comfort.

Blaine comes inside of him moments later, grunting and gasping. He wants to ask Blaine to stay just a moment longer, but he doesn't. Blaine pants, bent over his back, mouth near the curve of his ear, "Not so wound up now, hm?"

Kurt grins, going limp. "I'm sorry."

"Magic words," Blaine breathes, a laugh in his throat. His fingers, still a little slippery, slide back into Kurt's hole, causing the come that has filled him to squish and drip down the back of his balls. "Mmm," he hums, satisfied, working Kurt's hole. "Still hard for me?"

"God, yes," Kurt moans.

"Turn around again," Blaine says, dropping to his knees, fingers still playing with the come leaking out of Kurt's hole. He slicks it over the shaft of Kurt's swollen cock, working the wetness up and down as he fists Kurt's length.

Kurt hisses, watching his cock push through the circle of Blaine's fist, coated in Blaine's own come. "Fuck. Close. So close."

Blaine stops. "I should make you wait. You were being so mean to me."

Kurt whines, hips twitching forward. "I am very sorry. That's twice now. Please?"

Blaine leans in, kissing the head of Kurt's cock. His voice vibrates along Kurt's rigid flesh when he murmurs, "Promise to talk to me about your bad days instead of holding them all in and then exploding at me at the end of the week?" He licks a streak of his own come off of Kurt's cock and swallows it.

Kurt shakes. "God, yes, I promise, I promise."

Blaine wraps his lips around Kurt's cock, bobbing down around it. "Thank you," he says, and then swallows Kurt to the back of his throat.

Kurt comes in his mouth, sobbing.

As arguments go, it's probably one of their best yet.