Pairing: Kadam
Words: 1183
Rating: only implied sexy times, so PG
Summary: A little fight and some fluff centred around laundry day. Inspired by the Mark Owen song 'Making Out'. Unbetaed and written on my phone - multitasking ftw!

White Wash

When Adam comes home from an Apples rehearsal, Kurt is not, as he expected, at his drawing desk working. Nor is he on the couch enjoying an after-work DVD. Instead, he is at the kitchen table, an opened (and nearly empty) roll of Oreos in front of him. This is bad. Kurt stress-eats, and even then, he usually takes the time to make his own organic recipes.

"Are you okay, love?" Adam asks carefully. "Can I make you a cuppa?"

Kurt glares daggers at him. "No, Adam, I do not want a cuppa. You might want to remember that I am not British, therefore not everything can be solved with tea." He stuffs another cookie in his mouth and chews it aggressively.

"Um. I'm sorry," Adam offers, apologising pre-emptively for whatever it was he did or didn't do. He isn't sure if he should join Kurt at the table without an invitation, but standing there towering over him feels wrong, too. He pulls out a chair and sits down gingerly, as if dealing with a skittish kitten. "What's going on, Kurt?" He uses Kurt's name instead of another endearment, not wanting to seem patronising. "Did you hear back from your audition?" Kurt had been fretting over that for the past few days and the longer he waited, the more convinced he seemed to become that he didn't get the part he wanted, despite Adam's reassurances that he'd been brilliant.

Kurt frowns and shakes his head irritatedly as if Adam's suggestion is an annoying fly buzzing around his head. He swallows his cookie and takes more time than he needs brushing invisible crumbs from his lips before speaking. "Your stupid beanie," he says, raising the offending piece of clothing from his lap, "ruined my Westwood shirt." In his other hand was one of his favourite designer shirts; originally a pale beige and now stained dirty pink. Adam swallows.

"I don't understand," he brings out, "that beanie's been washed tuns of times without staining anything. I thought it would be okay-"

"Oh, you thought?" Kurt echoes angrily. "You weren't sure, then? And you figured, it's just clothes, right? Well, here's some news for you: it's more than that to me. Do you have any idea how long I saved up for that shirt? How many shifts at the Bean it took?"

"Kurt, I-" Adam tries, but Kurt presses on, shaking the shirt at his boyfriend.

"Every button on this piece is one homophobic slur I had to laugh away. Every seam a coffee spilled in my section accidentally-on-purpose! This shirt represents my blood and tears, Adam, and you treated it like one of your knock-offs!"

Adam bites his lip and looks down at the laundry basket that stands on the floor between them. He wishes he could offer to replace the piece, but with his student loan to pay off, it isn't even remotely in his league. It's true that he mostly wears no-name brands; mostly because it is all he can afford, but also because clothes aren't all that important to him. Of course that doesn't mean he would ever try to ruin Kurt's clothes on purpose. He really hadn't expected any colour to come off the old ragged hat.

Then his eye catches on something.

"Um, Kurt?"

"What?" Kurt's jaw is clenched as he braces himself for whatever apology Adam will come up with.

"I don't think it was the beanie," Adam says gently, and lifts a small crumpled piece of red cotton from between the washing. It had rolled itself inside a pillow case. He smiles shyly, as if the discovery is a little embarrassing.

Kurt's eyes widen and he looks at Adam, his face flushing. It is clear he is remembering the same thing Adam is thinking of.

"Kurt, I'm home! Ugh this rain, what'd you reckon, worst storm in ages right?" Adam shook raindrops out of his hair onto the wooden floor and quickly swiped over them with his socks before Kurt would see. "Kurt?" he called out again.

"In the laundry room, Adam!"

Adam smiled and walked over to the small walk-in cupboard with the washing machine that they pretentiously called 'laundry room' in the same way their bookshelf was the 'library'. An Englishman's home was his castle after all, even if it was small. He smiled as he caught sight of Kurt, dressed in nothing but a tiny pair of bright red briefs. Adam whistled through his teeth. "Now this is what I call perfect timing," he joked. "I see the storm got you too?"

Kurt turned around and smiled. A few strands of wet hair had slumped over his forehead. Expensive hair products or no- nothing could withstand this rain. "Mmm. I like New York's summer rain, though," he replied happily, no longer shying away from Adam's admiring eyes on his body as he had in the beginning of their relationship, "it's unexpectedly hot and fierce."

Adam was quite sure they were no longer talking about the weather. He took a few steps until he stood in front of Kurt. The washing machine roared to life behind his boyfriend. Grinning with sudden inspiration, Adam took Kurt by the waist and lifted him on top of it, filling the gap between his thighs with his hips until Kurt was trapped flush between his body and the surface of the trembling machine.

Kurt rolled his eyes but threw his arms around Adam's neck anyway. "Here of all places?" he asked fondly.

"Do you mind?" Adam asked, starting to kiss up Kurt's neck to his jaw. "It's just…the irrististable…scent…of washing powder. It's so erotic. I'm helpless against it."

Kurt laughed. "So is -ah! - Ocean Breeze… a powerful afrodisiac in your country?" He squirmed a little under Adam's ministrations, moving closer until Adam could feel the steady rocking of the washing machine vibrate through his boyfriend's legs.

"Oh yeah," Adam replied. "You should see the lads at Brighton. At it like bunnies."

Kurt chuckled. "You're insane," he scolded gently.

"Oh, I am. Completely bonkers. Off my rocker. Mad as a March Hare. I cannot be held responsible for my actions," Adam agreed, and slipped his thumbs under the elastic of Kurt's briefs, tugging them down inch by inch with every roll of the laundry machine.

"I was wondering where those had gone," Kurt admits, eyeing the red briefs guiltily. They must have landed in the hamper in the heat of the moment. Adam and Kurt hadn't exactly been paying attention to where their clothes fell in their struggle to get naked.

"Well, I'm glad they haven't gone to the Planet of the Lost Socks," Adam comments, hoping to make Kurt smile again. "They looked really good on you." He puts them down and takes Kurt's hand instead. "I'm very sorry about your shirt," he offers. "I could call my mum, she has lots of tricks for things like that, maybe it'll come out."

Kurt nodds gratefully and looks up at his boyfriend. "Adam?" he asks quietly.

"Yes, love?" Adam replies.

"I think I'd like some tea now."

Adam smiles. "Coming up."