I found a bunch of old fics in a notebook,and decided to publish some of them. This is from when the first pictures of Kurt and Blaien dressing up as Snooki and the Situation came out. So, a WHILE ago.
Kurt slid onto the bed, upending his jack o' lantern onto the duvet. Blaine swallowed, watching the leopard print mini skirt slide up a few more inches. He could see the smooth muscle of Kurt's thighs, the coiled strength there.
He sat down on the bed heavily and tried to think non-arousing thoughts. His grandma. Dead puppies. Kurt in puppy ears, begging for a lick as he panted –
Shit. Blaine snuck another glance at where the skirt stretched over Kurt's ass. Snooki definitely never looked this good.
Blaine thought about Snooki some more until he could take his bag off his lap. Record time. He'd have to remember that for later. Sometimes he thought Kurt had some kind of experiment going, testing the inversely proportional relationship between the tightness of his clothes and the amount of blood flow to his boyfriend's brain.
Blaine dumped out his own candy to distract himself and began carefully sorting them into piles. Tootsie rolls for Mike (because they were his favorite, after the White Rabbit candies that his grandmother sent him from China), jolly ranchers for Brittany (because she told him, "they're like, the opposite of the sad candies from Winn-Dixie. You have to be happy when you eat them, it's right in the name."), and chocolate coins for Artie (because chocolate). He extracted a crumpled packet of pretzels for himself, and then shoved the rest of the pile onto Kurt's side.
Kurt stared at him, a handful of rainbow skittles halfway to his mouth. Blaine swallowed a smile at the sight, giggles tickling his ribs. "For real?" Kurt asked faintly.
"Yeah," Blaine smiled awkwardly, still watching the smudges of red and purple on Kurt's lips. "I'm not big into sweets actually."
Kurt blurted out, "what is wrong with you?" but curled protectively around the new candy. Blaine half-expected him to start crooning about the precious. He watched, amused, as Kurt shoved the skittles into his mouth and started examining his new riches with a gleam in his eye that normally only the best Rue La La sales or a dozen roses enticed.
Seeing Kurt like that – his wig slipping off and smudges of chocolate and candy around his math, so completely and utterly relaxed – made Blaine's heart hurt with love. It was a strangely warm feeling. He pillowed his head in his arms and watched Kurt coo over the candy. Pressing his fingers to his mouth, he could feel the smile that he'd felt coming up from his very toes.
He hadn't been trick-or-treating since he was eight years old, and his parents had explained that he was far too old for such childish activities anymore. When he'd mentioned that to Kurt, after Kurt had been lamenting that his latest growth spurt kept him from fitting into his Glinda costume and what was Blaine planning on wearing?
Kurt had given him a look that Blaine hadn't been able to understand before he declared, in a carefully even voice that set Blaine's teeth on edge, that they were going trick or treating since this was the first year that Kurt could do a couples costume.
Last week, they'd spent date night bedazzling some of Blaine's plainer bowties because Kurt had discovered that Blaine had no idea what a bedazzler even was. Blaine had come home with rhinestones in his hair, a whole set of suddenly sparkly bowties, and a voice hoarse from laughing.
Blaine watched Kurt savagely bite into a chocolate bar with a greedy cry of joy and says, "You're an addict."
Kurt's wrinkled his nose at him, and pokes out a rainbow dyed tongue. "Glass houses Blaine. I've seen you with biscotti."
Blaine kissed the thin bones of Kurt's ankles, tasted the skin of his Achille's heel, and wondered at how this boy always makes him real.