warning: brief mention of slut-shaming, kurt x blaine, kurt x others, barista!blaine, 5+1, title from sing by ed sheeran
The sun is piercing through the slightly open curtains, seemingly straight into Kurt’s cracked-open eyes, making the dull, throbbing pain in his head sharpen to a pinpoint that makes the room spin and his stomach jerk. Sitting up with a groan, he feels the sticky residue of come and sweat on his skin and his mouth twists in disgust. “Adam,” he hisses, and his friend stirs in his sleep with a drawn out groan. “Can I shower before I go home?”
"Whatever," Adam mumbles into the pillow, and rolls over, snatching all the blankets with him and leaving Kurt stark-naked. Rolling his eyes, he snatches an oversized T-shirt from the pile of freshly laundered clothes teetering on the desk chair and slips it over his head, padding into the kitchen for a glass of water and an aspirin - anything to stop the dizziness and the feeling like he’ll throw up if he tries to bend over.
Hope you have your key, Santana’s at work and I’ve been called in for an extra choreography session. Hopefully Adam took care of you last night ;)
The winking emoticon makes Kurt shudder - last night was awkward, and only hot for about ten minutes before the embarrassment set in that he’d messily blown and then come across the chest of one of his friends and the leader of the show choir he’s a member of. Now he’ll have to go home in his clubbing clothes with wet hair, and endure Rachel and Santana’s teasing for weeks to come - until the next hook-up.
Smelling like Adam, he steals a plain grey T-shirt and his black NYADA hoodie from the closet, glancing at the man still asleep and starting to snore unattractively. Rolling his eyes, he sends a text to his phone - Left after my shower, I’ll give your clothes back next Apples rehearsal - and slides into his jeans and boots, snatching a canvas bag with NEW YORK ACADEMY OF THE DRAMATIC ARTS emblazoned across it to stuff the sweaty shirt from last night into.
He walks out of Adam’s apartment block painfully aware of his wet, unstyled hair, the dark circles under his eyes and the obvious lovebite under his chin. Honestly, looking at it in the bathroom he could’ve sworn he saw teethmarks, and he hasn’t yet bought into Santana’s ‘life hack’ of keeping concealer on him every time he goes out dancing and drinking.
Head still faintly throbbing, he falls on the nearest coffeeshop like a man lost in the desert finding an oasis. For a coffeeshop in New York, it’s relatively deserted, and the three baristas are talking quietly behind the counter. A couple are sharing a hot chocolate in the corner, and a man is eating a bacon roll behind his newspaper as Kurt weighs up each barista - a pretty Asian girl, a blonde guy with a big mouth and the dark-haired guy wearing a bowtie. He looks up, notices Kurt and chirps, “Can we help you?”
"Grande non-fat mocha, and I could go for a panini too," Kurt says, leaning down to look past the guard. "Um, tomato and basil please. And throw in a bag of mini sugar cookies."
"Rough night?" the barista asks, and Kurt drops his gaze to the tag prominently naming himBLAINE, and is disarmed by the smile on Blaine’s lips when he looks up into his eyes. “Tina, could you toast this, please?”
"You can say that again," Kurt remarks, rolling his eyes. "The first time I got drunk, I threw up in school. Now I have more than two shots and I’m going home with the first guy who makes eyes at me. It’s ridiculous."
A slight blush spills across Blaine’s cheeks, and he inclines his head with a bashful, “I kinda noticed the hickey.” Hand flying up to cover his chin, Kurt can feel his face heat with embarrassment, and Blaine laughs softly. “If anything, I’m glad you chose to buy coffee from us instead of one of the dozens of Starbucks.”
"Wouldn’t catch me drinking corporate coffee," Kurt says, and the blonde guy grins at him. Blaine smiles too, so charming with his bright eyes, and Kurt watches the movement of his fingers as he twists the brown paper bag around Kurt’s panini and carefully totals up his purchases.
"11.50, please," he says, and Kurt hands over the money left in his wallet after last night. "Um…sorry, sir, you’re a dollar short."
"It’s Kurt," Kurt says without thinking, and starts digging desperately around in his wallet, looking for another dollar but coming up with only dust and a few old receipts.
"Hey, don’t worry about it," Blaine says gently, and Kurt looks up at him in shock. "I can recognise someone in need of a decent coffee and some breakfast. Just make sure to come back here if you’re ever in desperate need again."
Taking the brown paper bag and his cup of coffee, Kurt smiles at the three obliging baristas and walks out into the drizzle, rolling his eyes at the weather and not even bothering to shield himself as he trudges to the train station. Perched on an empty bench during the wait, he eats the panini, and has to admit that it’s one of the best he’s ever had.
So, Kurt shouldn’t have gone home with Elliott after the gig. He shouldn’t have kissed him while Elliott was fumbling for his keys outside his apartment. And he certainly shouldn’t have pushed him down onto the couch and rutted against him until he came with a shout, nor fallen asleep with Elliott’s arm thrown casually across his waist, now a dead weight as he tries to slide out of bed.
"You don’t have to leave yet," Elliott mumbles sleepily into the back of Kurt’s neck, a pleasant hum against Kurt’s skin. "You know I make a mean fried breakfast, and we can check the blogs for the reaction to last night’s performances."
"I have work in two hours, and I need to run home and change first," Kurt says, and slides out from under Elliott’s arm, reaching down for his abandoned underwear. "You know we shouldn’t have had sex, El."
"Felt good, though," Elliott says lazily, and stretches luxuriously. "Text me when you get home safe. And eat something before you go to work, stealing a few fries doesn’t count as breakfast."
Rolling his eyes as he pulls his sweater on - thank God he brought clothes other than the obscenely tight outfit he wore for the gig - Kurt says, “Yes dad,” and smiles at Elliott’s laugh. This doesn’t have to ruin their friendship - but he needs to wrap himself in a shame spiral for a few days and recover.
When he gets out of Elliott’s apartment, shivering at the assault of the cold, Kurt starts walking towards the coffeeshop, already craving a panini for breakfast. Blaine is there when he walks him, bright and beaming behind the counter, and says, “Good morning, Mr. Grande Non-fat Mocha. Another rough night?”
"Not so bad, this time I was riding a performance high rather than being drunk," Kurt says, and is gratified when Blaine laughs. "Today I think I’ll go for the bacon and eggs panini. I need a decent breakfast."
"Of course," Blaine says, turning away to lift up the lid of the toaster and wow - how has Kurt not yet noticed what a nice ass he has? Round and perky and just really really aesthetically pleasing. That traitorous voice, the one that gets him into so many walks of shame, starts whispering at the back of his mind, but he firmly ignores it as Blaine turns back around and says, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
"You sound like the friend I slept with last night," Kurt says, rolling his eyes, and Blaine grins at him. "Honestly, before I left he was offering to make me breakfast. But I’ve kinda been looking forward to coming back here since I tasted that fantastic panini."
"I’ll have to tell Britt, our chef," Blaine says sweetly. "The four of us live together, and she’s always trying out her skills on us. It’s the best part of any morning, waking up to Britt’s pancakes or paninis or cheesecake."
”Cheesecake, oh my God, you live with an angel,” Kurt says, and Blaine throws his head back and laughs, showing off perfect teeth and the crinkle of his eyes and the curve of his neck which Kurt would very much like to kiss. Honestly, he finished having sex in the early hours of this morning and his libido is already back with a vengeance. Maybe he is insatiable, as Santana keeps making bad jokes about.
"I’ll be sure to tell her that," Blaine says with a wink that has Kurt’s heart skipping against his ribs. "There you are, sir, your panini and coffee. Eight fifty please."
"Thank God everyone brought the band drinks and I actually have money this time," Kurt says, unzipping his satisfyingly full wallet. He looks up to Blaine’s curiously tilted head.
"I thought I recognised one of the performers last night," he says, and something in Kurt’s chest starts to glow hot. "Pamela Lansbury, right? You were incredible - and I guess you went home with the other guy." Kurt blushes, and Blaine smiles reassuringly. "If it makes you feel better, I thought he was hot. I’m pretty jealous." Leaning closer, he whispers, "I bet you two look fantastic together."
Kurt nearly walks into the glass-panelled door instead of opening it on his way out.
Running out of the apartment half-dressed, his phone blinking periodical reminders that the charge has dipped below twenty percent, Kurt races against the clock to get away from the dancer from the gay bar. Even if he looked incredible dancing with no shirt on, Kurt should know better now than to down several shots and then go and flirt - it inevitably ends with him going home with a stranger and getting pretty vigorously pounded into the mattress. There’s no denying he enjoyed it at the time - the guy’s neighbours can probably vouch for that - but now his muscles are aching and his eyes are scratchy with exhaustion and his neck is black and purple with lovebites.
His mouth is so dry he’s sure he could sandpaper wood with his tongue, and tastes absolutely disgusting. Having searched the pockets of his coat, he couldn’t find any gum, and stooped to gargling a mouthful of mouthwash he find in the stranger’s bathroom, but it’s barely helped. Tugging his coat closer to cover his tequila-stained shirt and protect against the December chill, Kurt’s feet trace the familiar route to the coffeeshop.
"Good morning, my favourite customer," Blaine says as soon as he walks in, and Kurt can feel the tension drain out of him, even though he’s just realised that he’s limping pretty badly after the rough sex. "Oh wow, who did you end up with last night?”
"A topless dancer from a gay bar, I don’t want to talk about it," Kurt says with a roll of his eyes. "Just a coffee today, please. I’m not sure I could stomach actual food, I was far too drunk last night."
"Clearly, you have better flirting techniques than I do," Blaine observes with a self-deprecating little smile, and Kurt can’t help but grin and shake his head fondly.
"Considering my tactics involve getting too drunk, I don’t think I can offer any tips," he says, and Blaine laughs as he prepares Kurt’s coffee. Leaning on the counter as his head spins, Kurt can’t help but gaze at Blaine, the broadness of his shoulders underneath the tight red polo and his slender waist and pretty lips and huge, bright eyes. He glances up from beneath his lashes and Kurt’s knees almost buckle, nearly sending him crashing to the floor in a very embarrassing display of the crush he’s developing.
"Free of charge on this early morning," he says, pressing the cup into Kurt’s hand. Their fingers brush, and it’s like a jolt of electricity that goes right through Kurt, making his knees quiver and his heart beat crash. "Do you have any plans, or can you go and have a hangover day?"
"I wish, I have an audition later, and I really should’ve been responsible and professional enough to stay in the night before," Kurt says, rolling his eyes.
"An audition?" Blaine leans on the counter, smiling up at him, and Kurt’s heart is beating faster than ever. "Aspiring actor like me, huh? What’s it for?"
"Wicked, my roommate is auditioning for Elphaba and we want to audition together, so I’m going out for Boq," Kurt says softly, and Blaine grins at him. "It’s our favourite show, so it’s pretty exciting."
"I won’t keep you, then," Blaine says, and squeezes Kurt’s wrist gently before he pulls away. "Break a leg, Kurt."
He doesn’t even try to pretend that he isn’t channelling his current feelings for Blaine into Boq’s for Nessa Rose when he reads for his audition to adulation from the directors and Rachel squealing the whole cab ride back to their apartment.
Leaning back against the wall outside the apartment block, Kurt takes a minute to compose himself, dabbing at his watering eyes and carefully adjusting his coat to cover up the still-painful lovebite on the side of his neck. Tears sting hotly behind his eyes, the lump rising in his throat, and he starts walking, desperate to push away the absolute misery and self-loathing that’s creating a leaden weight in his stomach.
Pushing the door to the coffeeshop open, he’s barely crossed the threshold when he hears Blaine’s voice, soft and gentle. “What’s wrong?” Looking up, Kurt sees Blaine crossing the empty room towards him, and breaks down as soon as Blaine’s hands gently touch his shoulders, the tears slipping down his cheeks before he can stop them. “Kurt, tell me.”
"I…I…" He can’t get the words out around the tears, and before he knows it Blaine’s sitting opposite him in one of the cosy back booths, and his fingers are linked around a mug of hot chocolate, a slice of cheesecake on the table between them. "Blaine.”
"It’s okay," Blaine says softly, and takes Kurt’s hand gently, almost making him start crying again. "What happened? I’ve never seen you like this."
"I was working the night shift last night, and this guy came in towards the change of shifts, wanting a burger, and he was really gorgeous and kept flirting with me," Kurt says, and Blaine nods, looking absorbed and worried and sympathetic in a way that tugs at Kurt’s heartstrings. "So when he invited me home with him when my shift finished, I said yes. He kissed me the entire cab ride to his place, and he was so good at it my knees gave out and I was sitting down." Blaine smiles slightly, and his thumb sweeps across the back of Kurt’s hand, encouraging him to keep going. "But when we got back to his room, he got really aggressive, and wanted me to roleplay being this innocent little sixteen year old getting defiled by an older man, and it freaked me out. When I said no he got really mad, and said I was a-a cocktease and a slut and an uptight bitch. God, it took ages to get away from him and he’s ripped a button off my shirt that I didn’t want to stop to look for and for a while I was so scared he was going to-” He cuts himself off with a shuddering breath, and Blaine squeezes his hand tightly as new tears spring to his eyes.
"He was a complete asshole to not realise that you were scared and back the hell off," Blaine snaps, sounding angrier than Kurt has ever heard him, and he almost shrinks back in his seat. "And you are none of those things, Kurt. You’re special, and beautiful, and a young man having as much consensual and enjoyable sex as you want. He’s the one with a problem, not you. You don’t have to give yourself to anyone who wants it. You matter.”
”Blaine.” Kurt just stares at him in wonder, watching Blaine reach into his pocket and take out his phone, key in his password and set it down on the table in front of him.
"But, for the next time you get caught in a bad situation with a guy, we’ll exchange numbers, and you can text me any hour of the day or night, and I’ll give you an out," he promises with a smile, and Kurt stares at him in amazement. "I like to think that we’re friends, Kurt, and I don’t want you to ever go through something like that, or something worse." He squeezes Kurt’s hand tight, and says, "I care about you."
Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, Kurt reaches for his phone on the nightstand in simple desperation.
Please help me. I slept with a stage combat major last night and he’s turning out to be incredibly clingy and won’t let me leave. Give me an out?
Damon cuddles closer to Kurt, kissing his neck, and he barely suppresses a disdainful roll of his eyes. “Do you want to go get breakfast?” he asks softly. “I know this great little place with the most amazing pancakes, I’m sure you’d love it. You seem to have a taste for sweet things.”
Kurt wants to roll over and snarl ‘Just because you fucked me against the wall last night doesnot make me your boyfriend!’ but his phone starts to ring right on cue. “Excuse me, this could be important,” he says, and picks up. “Hello?”
"I’m one of your girlfriends, and I’m in labour," Blaine says sweetly in his ear, and Kurt tries to school his expression into one of appropriate shock and panic, even though he wants to smile hearing Blaine’s voice.
"Rachel!" he gasps with what he thinks is a pretty stellar performance. "Really? Right now? Of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can! I’m calling the cab company right now!" Hanging up and turning to face Damon, scrambling around for his clothes, he says, "That’s my roommate, she’s just gone into labour and she needs me there with her!"
"Oh, well, tell her congratulations from me," Damon says, and leans over to press a kiss to the back of Kurt’s neck. "And you’ll call, right? You have my number?"
"Yeah, yes, of course," Kurt lies, the words tripping easily off his tongue as he rushes to get his socks on and get out of there before Damon starts suggesting that he stay a little longer.
As soon as the door closes behind him, he calls Blaine and says, “I can’t thank you enough for doing that. It was a great out. He didn’t even ask if I wanted him to come with me.”
"You are very welcome," Blaine says, and Kurt smiles into his phone. "You want me to start a breakfast for you here?"
"You know my coffee order," Kurt says sweetly. "Could you add on a cheese and ham panini and a fruit scone to that? Is the shop empty enough for you to take a light breakfast with me?"
"Anything for you," Blaine flirts back, and Kurt can feel the flush spill pink across his cheeks, feel his cheeks lift with a grin and knows he probably looks seriously dopey to the passers-by. But he can’t find it within himself to care, as he heads off to a ‘just friends’ date that will no doubt send his heart far more aflutter than pasta and a movie with Damon did.
"This is the best night ever!" Rachel shrieks as she spins past Kurt, her hair glittering and all her lipstick smeared across her cheek from a sloppy makeout with Elliott. He pushes past Kurt, grinning from ear to ear, and spins Santana onto the dance floor with a Tarzan yell. "I love being single on Valentine’s Day!"
Laughing at her, Kurt is about to go grind against Santana and laugh with her for another twenty minutes when the bartender hands him a drink with a smile. “This is from the gentleman at the end of the bar,” he says. “Compliments to his favourite customer.”
Kurt’s head whips around, and he sees Blaine perched on a stool - sidenote: his ass looks so good spread out on the leather - and slides down to run to him, hugging him with more enthusiasm that he would probably display had he note already done body shots with Rachel, Santana and Elliott. “Hello to you too,” Blaine says with a laugh, steadying Kurt as he sways on his feet, the room tilting. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Kurt.” Gesturing to his friends, he says, “You’ve met Sam and Tina, and this is Brittany, the mastermind behind that strawberry caramel cheesecake you love so much.”
"Seriously, it sounds like a porno when he eats it," Sam remarks, and Kurt blushes, the light of the club thankfully hiding it. Brittany just grins at Kurt, and leans over to kiss his cheek, leaving an imprint of pink lipstick behind.
"If you’ll excuse me, I see a pretty girl on the dance floor," she says, and Kurt watches her sashay over to Santana and smoothly slide her arms around her neck.
"Damn, she’s smooth," Sam observes, and holds out a hand to Tina. "Can I have this dance, Tay-Tay?" She laughs, and takes his hand to be spun into the music.
"I guess that leaves you and me," Kurt says, and Blaine takes his hands, stepping close enough that it feels like the world draws closer around them, just the two of them and the thump of the music.
"It’s an honour," Blaine says, his eyes bright in the dim lighting, and it’s all Kurt can do not to kiss him there.
Single Ladies is pounding out of the speakers, and Kurt gives it everything he’s got, does everything he’s learned from years of practicing the dance as he grew into his body, as puberty ran him over like a truck and he’s learned about his own sex appeal. Swaying his hips, shaking his ass, writhing his pelvis back against Blaine, head thrown back and sweat gleaming on his exposed neck, he subtly lowers his shirt by another button, and hears Blaine’s breathing heavy in his ear. “Like something you see?” he asks, making his voice as sultry as he can, and his cock jumps in his unforgivingly tight pants when Blaine groans in response.
Two strong hands on his hips spin him around to face Blaine, and they’re so close that Kurt’s breath keeps catching in his throat. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Blaine murmurs, and kisses him. Kurt simply falls into the kiss, draping his arms around Blaine’s neck and losing himself in the soft give of his lips, his warmth and heady scent and the gel in his hair crackling apart when Kurt buries his fingers in it to angle Blaine’s head the way he wants, parting his lips with a flicker of his tongue and deepening the kiss.
"Let’s get out of here," Blaine gasps when they finally break apart, lips kiss-swollen and eyes dark with lust. Kurt just nods wordlessly, and Blaine snatches his hand into his and tugs him out into the first available cab, barely pausing to give the driver his address before his mouth is back on Kurt’s.
Forget his knees giving out even though he’s sitting down - by the time they get to Blaine’s apartment, Kurt is dizzy, practically melting into the seat, the space between his ears fuzzy and his cock painfully hard. He nearly stumbles into a streetlamp as they climb out of the cab, and Blaine laughs softly, putting an arm around him to keep him close as they stumble up three flights of stairs and Blaine fumbles frantically with the key as Kurt kisses his neck the way he’s wanted to for weeks.
"How do you want me?" Blaine asks when they stumble inside, while Kurt is in the process of wrestling their coats and shirts off, wanting to get at Blaine’s skin, to feel all of him.
"I want you to fuck me," Kurt says, and Blaine moans, crashing their mouths together. As Blaine picks at the buckle of his belt, Kurt tries to cant his hips upwards and feel the heel of Blaine’s hand against his cock, gasping, "I want you over me, on top of me, in me. I want to feel you for the rest of the week, I want hickies and bruises and aching muscles. I want you so bad.”
”Kurt,” Blaine moans, and it’s the hottest thing Kurt has ever heard, inspiring him to push Blaine backwards, Blaine steering them gently into his bedroom and kicking the door shut behind them as Kurt sprawls out of the bed, one leg bent, feeling sultry and alluring and so free in his own skin. “OhKurt,” Blaine gasps again, and scrambles to kiss him, sliding his belt free of the loops. “You are so beautiful.”
”Unh,” is Kurt’s very eloquent reply, as Blaine starts to kiss down his chest and belly, pinching his nipple and making him moan, kissing along the waistband of his jeans and down his abs. “Oh God,Blaine, please. Need you.”
"You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen," Blaine says, and wrestles Kurt’s jeans down, eyes wide in amazement as Kurt’s cock springs up and smacks wetly against his belly. "You’re so hard.”
"You’re so sexy,” Kurt retorts, and pulls him back down for another kiss. “Naked. Now.” Blaine shimmies out of the rest of his clothes, and when they make out naked it sends fireworks exploding in Kurt’s mind, his body singing in ecstasy.
Blaine fingers him open so patiently, so gently, kissing Kurt’s open, gasping mouth every time, seemingly instinctively knowing all the right ways to tilt and draw almost all the way out before slamming back in to make Kurt moan the loudest, his hands tangling into the slats of the headboard. “Now!” Kurt almost shouts as a sharp twist of pleasure spirals hotly up his spine, because he wants to come with Blaine’s cock in him. And there’s an awkward moment when Blaine can’t get the condom wrapper open with lube-slick fingers, and Kurt’s hands are shaking too much to do it, but then Blaine rips it open with his teeth, his eyes so dark, and it’s so hot.
And God, Blaine is so big in him, thick and perfect the way Kurt likes it, and he tilts his hips up for more of it, for Blaine’s fingers clamping around his hips and his movements sliding Kurt up the bed with every thrust, his lips buried in the spot beneath Kurt’s ear that just makes the lust fog his brain even more, his eyes slamming closed as Blaine sucks and nibbles with clear intent to leave a mark. “Oh oh oh oh oh oh,” Kurt moans as the heat spikes, clenching, and his voice spirals higher and higher with pleasure, almost a cry. “Blaine, I can’t, oh I wanted this to last, I’m gonna-” A thready scream of something vaguely resembling Blaine’s name rips from his throat as he comes harder than he has in months, maybe years, and Blaine fucks him through it, his moans louder and louder.
Blissed out and limp on the sheets, Kurt forces his eyes open to watch Blaine’s eyebrows furrow together, his mouth go slack and his eyes screw shut as he comes, shouting Kurt’s name and making his cock twitch weakly with interest. Rolling away to dispose of the condom, Blaine comes back to him with a ridiculous dopey smile on his sex-flushed face. “That was amazing,” he says softly, scattering lazy kisses all over Kurt’s face. “You’re amazing.”
"I know," Kurt says softly, and Blaine beams at him, kissing him one last time on his swollen mouth before he buries his nose in the crook of Kurt’s neck and his breathing evens out. Smiling as he runs his fingers through Blaine’s soft hair, sticking up in uneven clumps from Kurt’s frantic, clenching fingers, Kurt drifts to sleep.
He wakes up alone, and for a moment he wonders if it was all some wonderful dream, reality disappointing now. But Blaine opens the door with a tray of coffees in one hand and a brown paper bag clutched in his fist, and smiles at him. “I ran down to the shop to bring us breakfast,” he says softly, and Kurt smiles up at him, pulling him down for a soft kiss - morning breath be damned. “I got two breakfast paninis, two smoothies and a slice of lemon blueberry cheesecake to share.”
"You know just what I like, Blaine Anderson," Kurt says, rustling around in the bag for his banana-strawberry smoothie, and Blaine grins at him, eyebrows lifting flirtatiously.
"I got that from your screaming last night," he says, and presses a gentle kiss to the side of Kurt’s neck, still managing to make his eyelids flutter. "So here’s what I’m proposing: a day of movies in bed. Make lunch together. Order pizza for dinner. Cuddle all day and make out a little during the boring bits."
Picking a blueberry from the top of the cheesecake and feeding it to Blaine with a small smile, Kurt asks, “Like boyfriends?”
"Like boyfriends." And with that promise, Blaine leans in for a kiss, almost knocking their breakfast onto the floor.
Everything considered, it’s the best Valentine’s Day Kurt Hummel has ever had.