Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Or Orbit, Extra, Hubba Bubba, Eclipse, Tommy Hilfiger, OxiClean, Billy Mays, Tim Gunn, Project Runway or Heidi Klum.
So I was tired. This is more or less a mindless drabble over Kurt's second kiss. (Post "Original Song")
Reviews? I know, I know, it is a little crazy. Don't judge me! Ah!
Orbit.
That was his favorite, after the Extra Dessert Delights, or at least the Strawberry Shortcake flavor. Everything else kind of tasted disgusting, probably due to it being sugar free. He wouldn't think about Strawberry Shortcake in gum form, though, because he knew for a well known fact that Blaine thought it tasted like dirt and tree bark. So he contemplated on Orbit. His favorite was citrus mint. If it turned out Blaine didn't like citrus, then it would be Strawberry Watermelon Hubba Bubba. Kurt wasn't going to continue to list gum flavors any longer, but he also decided Strawberry Watermelon was a pretty neutral choice, you couldn't go wrong with Strawberry Watermelon.
But Kurt decided on the citrus mint Orbit, because it seemed like the most likely one to ever happen. Citrus was pretty yummy, and Blaine was eating a clementine at lunch the other day. Granted, Blaine chewed regular mint Eclipse on a daily basis. Kurt found nothing wrong with mint- it was just so... everywhere. Everyone, everywhere chewed mint gum. Kurt would like it better if Blaine was a little more original, a little more unique when they had their second kiss.
Their first kiss was really wonderful, Kurt had no complaints. But he couldn't help it. Everything had room for improvement, right? Blaine's breath had smelt like bacon and he tasted (okay, so maybe there was a little tongue? Who cares?) a lot like old bread. No wonder these gum commercials targeted men.
Kurt really had no good reason for thinking about this stuff, except he was in calculus and the teacher was just droning on and on. It was like physical pain. No one deserved this torture. On and on and on and on. Forever. This was calculus, anyway. Why where they getting a lecture? It sounded like it had something to do with prime number. Kurt never even liked prime numbers. It's like they're so lonely they only have themselves and this poor, overused one. Kurt was a prime number sometimes. Just him and Blaine. Blaine was his one. Maybe if Kurt's one smelled a little more like citrus and a little less like bacon, everything would be okay.
So it was decided. Kurt would by a pack of citrus Orbit after school at a gas stop and present it to Blaine with a little wink. But, God, that would probably be embarrassing for the poor boy. Nobody wanted to hear they smell like bacon when they where trying to be romantic. Maybe he could slip it in his book bag or something. Then he'd just be like, Oh! I don't remember buying that! Oh well. Yum!
And then Kurt wouldn't feel like he had to brush his teeth after they kissed.
Or maybe Kurt could write him a well meaning note. Something that said, Hey, Blaine, I love you, but guess what? Your breath stinks and you taste like your BLT. Just saying.
That would probably be worse. Who wanted to hear that their breath smelled like bacon? No one. Except, like, a pig. Actually, even a pig wouldn't want to hear that. They'd probably be offended that you knew what bacon smelt like. How would you feel if someone said you smelt like burnt intestines? Exactly.
Kurt shouldn't but in to Blaine's personal business, anyway. But if Blaine was running around, trying to give Kurt little random, intimate make out sessions, didn't that make it Kurt's business, too? No one wanted to make out with anyone who had tomato and bacon bits in their teeth. It was a simple fact of life.
Kissing Blaine Anderson was amazing. Simply amazing. But kissing a minty fresh, citrus smelling Blaine Anderson? A recreation of every not-to-short-lived fantasy he'd ever had, like the one wear he and Blaine would sit on the cobblestone steps of some place, wherever, it didn't matter, and it would start raining. Not just a delicate rain, but like it was raining cats and dogs. So Blaine and Kurt would have to make their way from these beautiful cobblestone steps and back to civilization. As their running, Blaine has to hold his jacket up above their heads so they don't get soaked. When their running along, giggling like the little prep school boys they where, Kurt would suddenly stop, and Blaine looks confused. So Blaine's just standing their, lowering his coat (this is the best part, when his hair gel gets wet and melts right out of his hair), and as their getting soaked, Kurt would throw his arms around Blaine's neck and they'd be kissing all passionately like they do in the movies. Just like that, they'd be ever so kissing in the rain. And the best part? He wouldn't taste like his lunch, he'd taste like citrus mint.
Kurt's life should be a commercial for Tommy Hilfiger and Orbit. It really should be. Just his daydreams sounded like a commercial! He'd be like Billy Mays for that stuff. He could probably sell Tide like Billy Mays could sell OxiClean. Those little handy dandy Tide sticks? He could sell those like sparkles to a rainbow unicorn. Kurt in his best deep voice: So next time someone throws a carbohydrate filled beverage on your new Tommy Hilfiger shirt and your chewing Orbit or something, use Tide! It's awesome!
Kurt needed to shut up. He needed to figure out this entire Orbit dilemma, not worry about his secret ambition to be the next Billy Mays, or Tim Gunn. Being Tim Gunn couldn't be to bad of a career. You know, having your own fashion reality TV show? Kurt Hummel's Project Runway. He remembered when he was little and they made a Heidi Klum Barbie doll and he had to have it. Sure, his dad disapproved, but soon enough he had his own Project Runway brand bedazzler and all his denim had rows of pink gems. Even though he was ten, he still keeps those on the top shelf of his closet in case he ever had a baby sister one day.
Once again, Kurt needed to shut up. He had a bad attention span, even in his own head.
Think hard, Kurt, think hard. He could just give Blaine the gum after taking out a piece, and just be like, "Oh, Blaine, you want this gum? I hate this flavor?"
Then Blaine, innocent and clueless, would take the gum. Chew it. Then, Blaine Anderson would smell beautiful.
It was perfect. It sounded wonderful. Kurt sighed, dreamily.
Every one of those twenty kids in the classroom turned around to see him sink down in his seat, swooning over Blaine and his non-bacon smelling breath, and each and every one of them heard him moan, "My bacon breath."