This is actually, literally the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written.


Thunder boomed, shaking the windowpanes and making Kurt jump as he sat down in front of the TV. "Jesus," he muttered, "I thought this storm was supposed to be out of here by now." He flipped to the Weather Channel and was met with a barrage of red ticker-tape alerts at the bottom of the screen. "Great. Just what I wanted the day before we're supposed to leave town." He and Blaine were flying out tomorrow to go back to Ohio for the summer, but now he wasn't so sure about that.

Rachel and Santana had already left, their finals ending earlier than Blaine's, so he had no reason to call and check up on them. Kurt's finals were already done, too, but he wasn't about to give up private time with his fiance in the loft to be back in the shithole that was the Midwest.

Speaking of... "Damn, where is Blaine, anyways?" he wondered aloud, trying to fill the apartment with something other than storm sounds and the screeching alert noise of the TV. Blaine was taking his last final, but Kurt thought it was scheduled to end over an hour ago, and it didn't usually take quite that long to get home, even with rush hour traffic. Kurt grabbed his phone off the coffee table, but it flashed a low battery light at him and died before he could even pull up Blaine's number.

"Of course," Kurt said frustratedly, getting up to walk to the outlet where he left his charger. Before he could even get out of the living room, though, the lights suddenly flickered and cut, leaving the loft dark and nearly silent. "Oh God."

Kurt wasn't usually scared of storms, but Santana had just made them all watch KILLER STORM 5: THIS TIME WITH MORE ALIEN AXE MURDERERS on the SyFy channel last night as a reward for acing her dance final, and he was feeling a little jumpy because of it.

"That movie was fake, Kurt, you know it was fake, that blood still looked like ketch- aaaah!" he screamed mid-sentence as a flash of lightning illuminated the loft momentarily and made everything look ghostly. The thunder that followed drowned out his accompanying whimper, but just barely. "Okay, nope, it's time for blankets and candles and maybe to double-check all the locks on the windows and door."

The latter task accomplished quickly, he gathered up the thick purple fleece blanket that he and Blaine used in the winter, a lighter, and a handful of tea lights before walking back to the couch to curl up there. "Please let the power come back soon," Kurt whispered as he lit the candles and tucked all of his limbs carefully inside the blanket. The storm was making the weather chillier than usual for early May, and their loft had the crappiest insulation of any building he'd ever been in.

He was just about to drift off to an uneasy sleep when a thought struck him. "Blaine!" he said, sitting bolt upright. "Oh my God, what if he got stuck in the storm? What if he's soaking wet on the road somewhere because all the subway stations flooded? What if he's drowned?" He curled himself back into his blanket burrito, pulling the covers over his face for maximum warmth. Consciously, Kurt knew that he was freaking out and that Blaine was probably just running late because of the weather, but he couldn't make himself settle down. I'm going to kill Santana for making us watch that stupid fucking movie, he thought, starting to plot ways he could torture her back. He was just trying to figure out if replacing all of her tight dresses with oversize shapeless hoodies would work when he heard the door rattle and a voice mutter outside.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna die, oh my God," Kurt said, hoping it was soft enough that the axe murderer couldn't hear. He tried to get off the couch and run for his room, but he got twisted up in his humungous blanket and landed on his ass on the ground just as the door slid open and something dropped onto the ground with a thud. The gust of wind Kurt's landing made blew out enough of the candles that everything in the loft became fuzzy around the edges from darkness.

Kurt started to untangle himself from his pile on the floor, keeping his motions small and quick. He managed to get his legs free when the axe murderer pinned his lower body down. Before the other man could get a word out, Kurt began to scream and flail, landing a few solid hits. The man began yelling after that, and Kurt immediately stopped writhing once he heard the other man's voice.

"Baby stop oh God ow that was my ribcage Kurt it's me!" Blaine said all in one breath, trying to dodge as many of Kurt's hits as possible. "Thank you!" he continued once Kurt stopped. Blaine rearranged their bodies so he was just kneeling above Kurt, his legs on either side of Kurt's body and their eyes lined up perfectly.

"Blaine! You're not dead!" Kurt said – well, squealed, but he'd deny that for the rest of his life. "Wait, why didn't you just say it was you when you came in?"

"I saw the blanket on the ground and thought you might have fallen asleep waiting for the power to come back," Blaine told him. "I didn't realize you were lying in wait. I think you bruised my shoulderblade." Blaine pouted goofily, and Kurt just had to lean up and kiss him.

"I'm sorry! Santana's movie last night kinda freaked me out," he said, smiling sheepishly.

"I told you not to watch the cyclone of serial killers, but no, you just can't listen to me," Blaine said, tone full of mock-offense.

"Shut up, you, or I'll throw you back out into the storm," Kurt glared.

"I mean, I love you, baby, please let me stay inside where it's dry," Blaine said, lowering his arms so he could snuggle into Kurt. Kurt melted into Blaine's warmth eagerly.

"I suppose I can let you stay, B. One condition, though," Kurt said teasingly, eyes sparkling. Blaine made a questioning noise, so he continued, "Cuddle me until the power's back?"

"Such a hard bargain, Kurt," Blaine joked, standing up and offering a hand down to Kurt, who grabbed it and hoisted himself up. "I think I can live with it, though."

The power didn't come back til the morning, but Kurt was so warm and safe cuddled with Blaine in their bed that he barely noticed.