Inspired by an "imagine your favorite character with the hiccups" post that went around Tumblr recently.


Hic!

"No."

Hic!

"This is not happening."

Hic!

"Porcelain, if you don't go drink some water right fucking now I'm going to drown you!" Santana yelled, preventing Kurt from making yet another angry interjection to no one. "Get rid of those hiccups or I get rid of you."

"Yes, because I wanted to sound like a squeaky toy, Satan!" Kurt shot back. He glared at Santana's closed curtains and wandered from the couch to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. "I don't believe she's – hic! – required by law to take a siesta every day because she's Hispanic." He knocked back his drink and waited, managing to count to four before-

Hic!

"Ladyface!"

"I'm trying, Santana, what would you like me to do about this?!" Kurt gave Santana the evil eye as she poked her head out from behind her curtains, black sleep mask askew on her forehead.

"You'd think being engaged at nineteen to the male version of Berry would be enough to scare the hiccups out of you, but you must have some weird gay immunity to that. How's about I put on Robot Death Rampage 3 and see if that fixes you up instead?"

Hic!

"No, Santana!" Kurt tried to block her from reaching the TV, but she tickled his sides – damn it, why did he have to tell her he was ticklish there? – and evaded him, pulling up Netflix and starting the movie before he could even get over his giggles and back to the couch.

"Plant it, Porcelain. If you're going to disturb my precious, precious beauty sleep with your high-pitched, annoying hiccups then you can at least let me watch you panic and cry over the electrocutions in this movie to make up for it." Santana smacked the open spot on the couch twice at that, and Kurt heaved a sigh before taking his place next to her.

"I hope you know I'm eventually – hic! – going to end up hiding in your lap, and I will try to squish you."

"Save it for your man candy. Now pipe down, I can't hear the screams!"

Kurt begrudgingly turned his attention back to the screen, and – oh dear God that girl just got decapitated by a Roomba. He didn't want to watch the horrorfest, but he also couldn't turn away; it was too transfixing. He slowly curled into himself as the movie continued, getting intrigued despite himself and still letting out the occasional hiccup, unfortunately. He was shaking like a leaf as five people got eaten by one of those little robot dogs when the loft door slid open, causing him to let out a scream. It would've been impressive if he hadn't had to hiccup midway through it.

"Kurt! Baby, what's wrong? Why are you hiccuping? What the hell is this movie?" Blaine questioned frantically as he practically ran over to Kurt. He knelt down in front of the couch and set his hands firmly on Kurt's feet, which were up on the cushions. Kurt broke away from the movie and looked Blaine in the eyes.

"I – hic! – have the hiccups, so Santana – hic! – put on this movie to scare them out of me," he explained, deciding it was easier to just give the short version.

"You couldn't just drink some water?" Blaine said, eyebrows scrunching.

"Tried that, Pippin," Santana said. "This was Plan B."

Hic!

Blaine slapped a hand over his mouth as Kurt and Santana both stared at him.

"Oh God, not you too," Santana groaned. "I can't live like this."

"B, I know – hic! – we're a team, but this is rid-hic!-ulous," Kurt said. He smiled wryly at Blaine.

"I guess we really – hic! – do have to share everything," Blaine said. "Hey, I – hic! – have an idea!"

"Muzzles?" Santana asked hopefully. Both boys ignored her.

"Would kissing – hic! – and making it better still – hic! – apply to this?" Blaine continued, grinning.

"Couldn't – hic! – hurt," Kurt said, returning the smile. He leaned down as Blaine leaned up, and their lips connected. They kissed for what felt like hours, until the sound of Santana fake retching couldn't be blocked out any longer. "Did that - ?"

"I think it did," Blaine confirmed.

"Jesus effing Christ, did you two seriously become even more unbearably Disney Prince-esque and use true love's kiss to get over the hiccups?" Santana said, shaking her head in disgust. "I'm going to leave before I develop diabetes. If you need me, I'll be in Hell's Kitchen, cleansing my palate." She threw on some shoes and stalked out, seemingly uncaring that she was in old Cheerios sweatpants and a mismatching Spotlight Diner t-shirt.

"Want to turn this off and watch Enchanted instead?" Blaine asked.

"I knew I was marrying you for a reason," Kurt said, patting the still-warm space next to him. Blaine clambered up almost before Kurt got his hand out of the way, and they settled in for some much-needed quality time.