Title: Blainchel Drabbles
Pairing: blainchel
Type: five drabbles…some are longer than others (all of which are future AU and take place in New York at different points in their life; EXCEPT drabble 3, which is future AU but it takes place in Lima)
Rating: NC-17 for naughty words in some places
Disclaimer: I don't own anything yadaaaa.
Author's note: drabble prompts for Rachel: kitten, boxes, hammock, kink (this includes bloodplay~ so if you don't like it skip the fourth drabble), first snowfall
AN2: Feel better
Kitten
Blaine thought he might have been getting a cold. It was October in New York and every year around this time he would always pick something up—whether it was strep throat, a bad cough, or even just a rough cold, he always seemed to end up sick, on and off, through November and December from working himself too thin and taking the subway every day before walking the few blocks to theater he worked as an understudy at.
It was a bit different; however, when he pulled himself out of bed as his alarm went off to walk into the bathroom to start a shower. Usually, his colds always started out the same. He'd be run down for a few days, get a really bad headache the night before, and wake up congested, headachy and run a strong fever. He closed the bathroom door slightly, leaning against the sink after turning the shower on to let the hot water start up. He coughed harshly into his shoulder, his throat scratchy—it felt like millions of tiny pins were poking around his Adam's apple. He sighed softly, sniffling before running a hand over his face, stealing a glance at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Wow, what a mess. He was pretty sure the face greeting him couldn't have been him—his face was pale, the dark bags under his eyes bruised with purples and blues, his cheeks were flushed and his nose was red and runny. His eyes were unbelievably tired looking, and so goddamn itchy that he was this close to scratching them out of his sockets. His curls were frizzy and sticking up in every which way and on top of all that he felt like he had to sneeze but it just….wouldn' .out.
He grabbed a tissue and closed his eyes, wrinkling his nose and sniffling…trying to coax the damn thing out—he almost had it and then—
He jumped as he felt a pair of arms around him, the sneeze retreating back into his nose. He groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, turning around to look down at his girlfriend who was, admittedly, too adorable when she was half asleep.
"Are you okay?" Rachel asked softly.
Blaine sniffled, rubbing his nose frustratingly with the back of his wrist, a whine building up in his chest but not escaping out of his throat. He crumpled the unused tissue in his hand and sighed, his eyes closing as he felt Rachel press kisses along his jaw where scruff had started to form before peppering them along his cheekbones.
"Yeah, I'm fine I just need to—" He turned his head quickly, angling his body away from her as he let out a harsh sneeze into the crumpled tissue between his fingers.
He sighed softly as he felt his shoulders slowly uncoil under Rachel's hands rubbing his lower back and upper arm. He sniffled; throwing the tissue towards the trash can before he closed his eyes, pressing his fingers into his eye sockets to stop a headache from pinching the back of his eyes. He stopped after a few moments and looked at Rachel, giving her a small smile before he leaned closer and placed a kiss on her forehead.
"I'm fine; I think it's just a cold."
Although it felt…rather different, his throat scratched, his eyes were itchy—his nose was running and tickly. It was almost like his allergies were acting up, which didn't even make sense. Allergy season was over, the leaves were changing into Fall, the weather quickly chilling and killing anything with pollen. He was only allergic to a few things; pollen, bunnies and cats. And since the pollen season was dwindling down, and they didn't own any pets (much to Rachel's dismay), it could have only been one thing: a cold.
"I better get in the shower; I'm going to be late for practice." He cupped Rachel's face and ran his thumb across her cheek before pecking the side of her mouth.
He pulled back from her and slid off his white t-shirt, throwing it towards the hamper they kept in the corner of the room. He slid off his drawstring pajama pants and felt Rachel's body come up behind him—and from what he could feel…she had somehow taken off her thick pink robe along with her thick patterned thermal pajamas and bra all between the discarding of his own clothes. He must have been a lot more sluggish than he realized this morning. He bit his lip, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt Rachel's fingers trail down his chest, dancing across his happy trail before dipping into his boxers. His hips jerked as she trailed the top of his cock, blood rushing to the tip as it quivered in interest.
"I'm going to make you feel better." She hummed softly, gently grasping him and stroking hard and fast before tugging down his boxers and her underwear and dragging them both into the hot stream of the shower.
He smirked. "Rachel…how am I supposed to be on time if you join me—" He was cut off by a harsh kiss, basically all teeth, lips and tongue. He moaned softly into the kiss, his hard cock sliding against her tan stomach as he drew her close.
He chuckled against her smiling lips, rubbing her back as he tugged the shower curtain closed.
Blaine was definitely going to be late for practice.
000
Unfortunately, the steam of the hot shower and the pulsing of his orgasm hadn't kept his sinuses cleared for very long. No more than ten minutes after his shower his nose was so red from sneezing that he probably wouldn't be able to be distinguished from Rudolph the reindeer.
"I'm sorry I couldn't help." Rachel rubbed his back as he grabbed his coat, slipping it on before grabbing his bag.
"Not your fault. You helped for a little while there." He winked softly, making her giggle and bite her lower lip.
He turned and cupped both sides of her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead (just in case he was getting a cold he didn't want to get her sick) before pulling back to give her a gentle smile.
"I'll be home later tonight. I'll pick up some dinner." He sniffled wetly; grabbing a tissue after Rachel playfully grabbed his ass on his way out the door.
Blaine licked his lips and got halfway down the hall before he patted his jeans pocket, swearing softly as he realized he forgot his wallet and went back down to their apartment and unlocked the front door. He tried to remember where he had last set it down…seeing as how things usually progressed rather quickly when he got home. Sometimes they barely made it through dinner before Rachel was tugging his jeans down and Blaine was struggling with the damn buttons on her blouse as he tried to lift her up into his arms to take her into their bedroom.
He pushed open their door, glancing around the half of a hallway that led into their small kitchen (just perfect for two less than average height people, of course) and—surprisingly he didn't see Rachel anywhere in sight as he closed the door. He actually thought she'd be in the kitchen, making herself an English muffin with some sort of nut butter and a cup of her tea…
Blaine sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist as he looked around the living room, small kitchen in the middle of the space between their couch and kitchen (which he designated as their dining room) and around the island counter of their kitchen for his wallet. With no luck he figured it could only be in a few more places.
He passed a small storage room, that Rachel had tried to turn into a work out space but the room just hadn't been big enough for an elliptical; so they just kept boxes, spare sheets and towels and random odds and ends (Rachel's trophies and Blaine's shoes) laying about in there—silent and waiting for either of their owners to really need them.
Blaine found himself hesitating before he even got to their bedroom, a sharp tickling spurring up rather suddenly in the back of his nose—his breath stifled in his chest, his arm raising to his nose before a flurry of sneezes tumbled out of him. He barely had time to breathe between them, the harshness of them all in a row making him bend slightly at his waist. No, fuck no—this was not a cold. He never sneezed this much so suddenly, with barely a breath in-between, unless he was allergic to something. But…what the—what was he even allergic too?
"Blaine?"
He turned his head and glanced at Rachel—poking her head out of the storage room. His eyebrows furrowed and he licked his lips, digging into his pocket for spare tissues so he could blow his nose.
"Rachel? What are you—?"
"I thought you left for work." Rachel said over him, her eyes flickering to the floor before she looked up at him.
Oh, God. He knew that look. She only ever couldn't meet his gaze when she felt guilty about something. He swallowed and set his bag down to the side, opening his coat as he walked closer to her.
"I forgot my wallet. What are you doing in the storage room?"
"Nothing." She answered quickly—a little too quickly for his liking.
He pressed on the door but she must have had her foot behind it, anchoring it closed because it didn't budge.
"Rachel."
"Blaine."
Blaine rolled his eyes. "Unless you're hiding a trunk full of naughty porn fantasy videos that you don't want me to see—"
"Blaine Anderson."
"and honestly I'm a bit insulted, I mean we've already done the naughty student and teacher routine along with 'hi, I'm the new maid I think you have some centerpieces I need to clean'—"
"Blaine!" She bit her lip, amusement now lacing her lips as she fought off giggles.
"I think you still have that outfit in the back of your closet actually—"
She giggled and opened the door to push him against his chest. He snorted and gently grasped her hands. "What? I'm just saying, you don't have to hide anything from me—" He pressed his lips against hers, humming softly as he gently slid his lips against hers.
He stroked her back as he slowly opened her eyes, distracting her long enough to press the door all the way open and—
Was greeted with a pair of golden orange tinted eyes, staring up at him from a spot in the center of the floor. A cat. No, a kitten. There was a tiny, orange ball of fluff in the center of a few pillows from their living room and on one of his gray sweaters—there was a cat, there was a kitten in their apartment. Then it dawned on him. His so called 'cold' that had acted a lot like an allergic fit hadn't been a cold at all. His damn nose had managed to pick up on a little, orange tabby in their storage room. He slowly pulled back from kissing Rachel, trying to fix her with a stern glare but it was kind of more…amused and annoyed at the same time.
"Rachel we have a cat burglar." He muttered, glaring at the kitten that started cleaning behind its ears.
"Blaine…" She started, her voice was hesitant…the same tone she had used when she tried to convince him that handcuffs and candle wax had been a must that Tuesday night after too many bottles of wine.
"Rachel you know I'm allergic to cats!" He nearly stomped his foot in frustration, another sneeze pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned away from her quickly before he let out two against his shoulder.
"It's harmless!"
"It's an allergy attack waiting to happen. My throat could close up!"
"Oh stop being dramatic," He turned back around to see her roll her eyes and cross her arms over her chest before she turned around and went back into the storage room to pick up the kitten. "Your allergies only consist of sneezing, itchy eyes at worst you get really congested. I've never seen hives or your throat close up." She scrunched her nose cutely at the kitten and kissed the kitten's head.
He rolled his eyes and took a step back as she brought the kitten closer. "Rachel—don't, we are getting rid of it."
Her eyes snapped up to his, filling with a pleading that made his stomach clench. "Please! It's getting cold out; I can't just—put it back in the alley behind our apartment complex where I found him. Absolutely not Blaine Anderson."
He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. He couldn't believe this was happening. He had such a hard time saying no to her—not to mention when she turned on those damn fake tears that alwaysworked even though he knew they were fake. He ran his fingernails over his throat as Rachel took one final step closer—and he kept a bout of sneezes at bay as the kitten reached its long arm out and gently swat at his wrist, mewing softly.
Rachel giggled. "He likes you!"
He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Of course he does…he knows that I'm whats standing between him staying in a warm house or being kicked out onto a cold street."
She beamed up at him, moving to kiss the tip of his red nose as the kitten butted its head against Blaine's shoulder, meowing insistently for his attention.
"Come onnnn," She gently kissed his lower lip, nearly tugging it with her teeth. "It's nearly Halloween…we can name him Candycorn."
Blaine rolled his eyes and tried to look defiant but…he knew she already had him, she knew she already had him.
"We'll keep him in the storage room until your allergies get used to him." She insisted but Blaine was already nodding, making her grin and jump with the kitten, Candycorn, in her arms before she kissed him.
All Blaine could do was pull back, turn, and sneeze.
0o0o0o0o
Boxes
"Oh and now the door's stuck? Really, Blaine it's pouring."
He rolled his eyes, pushing his shoulder into the main apartment complex door, the rain seeping down into his hair, drenching his curls and pasting them to his forehead. He ran his hand over his face and turned the key one more time before giving the door a harder slam, groaning as the wood finally gave up and opened. Rachel rushed in past him and the metal nearly cut into damn fingers as he forced the key out of the slot. He let the door slammed closed, walking two steps behind her, their clothes dripping with rain water as they went up the stairs to their apartment.
"Look, I know this place isn't exactly what we planned for it to be but…the price isn't too steep and its closer to NYADA than any other place we looked at."
Rachel unlocked the door to their apartment, which was still cluttered with boxes from when they had moved in last week—yeah, they still had yet to unpack. Everything had just been so hectic lately; Rachel may have liked to think she was a native to New York but Blaine knew just as well as she did that she was having a bit of a hard time transitioning into the city life that was just so damn different from small town Lima (whether he was the only one to admit that out loud or not). He peeled off his raincoat, his t-shirt and jeans soaked through anyways. He kicked off his shoes by the door and took Rachel's coat off, taking them into the bathroom to hang them above the tub.
"What are you trying to say?" She huffed, shivering as she walked into the kitchen, wringing her hair out into the sink.
"I'm saying," He walked past her and tried to look through some of the boxes for some damn towels and some heavier pieces of clothes to wear after they took the wet ones off. "That we've been here for a week, maybe you should stop complaining about the place and give it a chance."
She gasped, settling her hands on her hips as thunder pounded against the apartment complex and making their lights flicker. "I have not complained since we moved in!"
Blaine turned around and fixed her with a less than amused glare before he yanked a towel out of a box and threw it at her. She caught it before it could land on her head and huffed, peeling off her long sleeved shirt before settling it in the kitchen sink.
"Are you serious? You managed to give this place a slew of insults before we left for dinner! The shower knobs stick, the fridge isn't cold enough, the wooden floor has a dent in it, the couch isn't big enough—what don't you not like about this apartment?" He hissed, overturning a box to grab another towel.
The box fell and cluttered to the floor, he was pretty sure he heard something crack but he couldn't really be bothered enough to care; he was cold and wet and all he wanted to do was curl up on the couch in one of his too big sweaters. He swept past her as he found the clothes he had been looking for and changed in the bathroom, wringing out his clothes over the sink before draping them onto the tub.
Blaine could hear Rachel go through the boxes as well, no doubt looking for her own clothes. He licked his lips as he gave her a few moments to change into her warmer, dryer clothes before she set her wet ones in the sink. He was highly considering leaving this fight to continue to tomorrow and just curl up in bed to sleep but—the power flickered out after a bright shot of lightening and Blaine closed his eyes as Rachel let out a high pitched squeal that somehow turned into his name. He rushed out of the bathroom and heard boxes falling, no doubt because Rachel was running into them, trying to find a way around the couch to where he was. He knew she didn't like storms or…especially when the power went out because of storms.
"Rach?"
She knocked into something, hard and he winced as he heard the couch scrape against the wood and her whimper.
"Babe, just stay still, okay? I'm coming to you." The brief flash of lighting helped him locate her rather quickly but he managed to trip on a random piece of uneven floor (yeah okay, maybe Rachel had had a point with that one) and stubbed his toe.
He grunted and hobbled on over to her, pulling her into his embrace before settling onto the couch with her.
"See? I told you the floor sticks up!" She muttered, pushing her face into his shoulder as thunder shook the complex. He sighed softly and rolled his eyes, his toe throbbing in agreement with her as he stroked her hair.
"Yeah, yeah." He muttered.
They were quiet for a few long moments, Blaine stroking Rachel's damp hair as she pressed her cold nose into the warm skin of his neck. He held her close, pulling her onto his lap as he sat in the corner of the couch, his toe throbbing ridiculously. God, what if he broke the damn thing instead of stubbing it?
He sighed. "Alright….so maybe we should look into another place." Maybe one with a spare room for all their boxes.
Rachel nodded insistently, a secret smile (that wasn't so secret) on her lips that she had convinced him she was right.
The thunder merely roared in concurrence.
O0o0o0
Hammock
The hammock gently rocked back and forth as Blaine sat down on it, taking his shoes off before he pulled his legs up onto the long stretch of evergreen canvas fabric that hung tightly onto the two opposite supports. He shifted onto the hammock, the metal supports squeaking and moaning from his weight as he laid down. He sighed softly, a light and chilly wind blowing through the curls on top of his head, making him shiver and pull down his sweater over his hands as he watched the clouds skirt across the sky. It had been a long day and the sun was starting to go down, his favorite time of the season—early November, not cold enough for frost yet but just chilly enough that one always needed long sleeves on or a jacket outside. The leaves were turned, bright oranges and reds with hints of yellow against a darkening navy blue sky.
"Hey, I knew I'd find you out here."
He turned to see Rachel come out of his parent's house, a small smile on her lips as she descended the deck stairs. She had a long black sleeved shirt on that fit her tiny form, a single gold chain hanging loosely on her neck and shining bright over the dark fabric. Jeans hugged her in all the right places while tiny gray boots crunched through the dry, dead leaves as she made her way over to him.
He sat up a little in the hammock, hoping not to knock the thing off balance enough that he tumbled off and smiled at her, taking her hand when she was close enough.
"I didn't mean to abandon you in there," He licked his lips. "My mom can be sort of intense, I just needed some air." He ran his thumb over her knuckles as he squeezed her hand.
"Its okay, your mom is a sweetheart anyways."
She bit her lip as Blaine gently and slowly pulled her down to lay next to him in the rather large hammock. He shifted slightly so she'd be able to mold her body into his and felt successful when they didn't topple over onto the grass. He hummed, pressing kisses into her cheek and cheek bone as he tugged on the single braid she had in her hair.
"It helps that she absolutely adores you." Blaine chuckled.
"Well, one could only hope the mother of your fiancé likes you." She whispered as she rested her head on the space above his heart.
He smiled and picked up her hand, holding it up and spreading her fingers so that they stretched out against the branches of the tree above them. He ran his thumb down her ring finger, lacing his fingers with hers after he traced over the ring he gave her.
Blaine kissed her knuckles, humming softly—they were silent for a moment, the wind making Rachel angle her body towards Blaine to snuggle closer. He pressed a kiss to her nose, smiling against her lips afterwards.
"I wish we could put one of these up in New York." She said softly, playing with the fabric of his sweater.
"Kind of hard when you live in an apartment, no backyard of your own." He pressed a kiss to her frown, curling a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
"We could always buy one and…set it up in a park under a tree." She grinned, like her idea shined with brilliancy as bright as stars.
"Oh, yeah, because I'm sure people would appreciate us setting up a random hammock under a tree we've called our own…with like, our initials or some line from a romance poem or movie." Blaine quipped, teasing her softly as he nipped at her upper lip.
She blushed prettily, the dust of pink peppering her cheeks as she smiled into his sweater. She squeezed his hand and hummed softly. "But we loved with a love that was more than love—"
Blaine raised his eyebrows, looking down at her. "Of all the poems out there you want that to be etched into our tree? A morbid poem that describes the death of Annabel Lee, Rachel, I'm insulted—"
She gasped and smacked his chest. "Blaine Anderson."
"I mean, Poe is my main home skillet poet but you'd think you'd be pick a more cheery poem—"
She cut him off with her lips on his, gently gliding as her fingers traced over his jaw. He pulled back after a moment, wrapping an arm around her and hugging her close. He smiled against her lips and kissed her upper one softly.
"And neither the angels in Heaven above / Nor the demons down under the sea / Can ever dissever my soul from the soul /Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;" He trailed his finger down the bridge of her nose—he had always had a soft spot for Poe. The poems may have been a bit on the dreary side, but that didn't make his words any less beautiful.
Rachel scrunched her nose. "You know, you're right…it does sound sort of morbid when you say it like that."
Blaine then proceeded to tickle her until she took back her words towards his 'main home skillet' Poe –or at least he tried to. Her giggles filled the chilled air around them, almost seeming like it was making the trees shake. Leaves gently broke off their branches and swayed down towards them as Rachel's body shakes and jerks successfully knocked them off balance on the hammock and they both tumbled towards the ground into piles of dry leaves.
0o0o0o0o0
Kink (Bloodplay)
Blaine glanced down at Candycorn rubbing insistently against his leg, begging for attention as he cut up the vegetables for his and Rachel's salad for dinner. He sighed as he glanced over at his girlfriend, who was leaning against the island counter, flipping through the cookbook for the recipe of the lasagna she was making. He was just glad he had remembered to take his allergy pill this morning otherwise he would have been sneezing in the lettuce.
"Rach, will you feed him? Or…hold him or give him attention or something? I'm trying to cut tomatoes."
"Mhmm," Was all she said before squinting at one of the pages in the cookbook. "How long has the lasagna been in the oven? Three minutes?"
Blaine shook Candycorn off his foot, glaring at the small creature who simply meowed at him. Snarky little shit—they should have named it Sebastian. He shrugged his one shoulder at her question and glanced at the glowing letters on the stove.
"Uh, five minutes?" He guessed. "Why, how long does the cookbook say to have it bake for?"
"Twenty five minutes with foil on and then twenty five with the foil off."
He pressed the buttons to indicate the timer for twenty minutes and went back to cutting tomatoes, glancing down at Candycorn who was now on his back, swatting at Blaine's foot.
"Rachel, would you please get this damn—fuck!" Of course he hadn't been paying attention to the sharp knife in his hand (maybe this cat was really out to get him, it wouldn't surprise Blaine in the slightest) while trying to shake the small ball of orange fuzz off his foot and cut a semi-long stripe down the index finger on his left hand.
He dropped the knife in the sink, rushing over to run water on it. Rachel had skittered over to him quickly, trying to pull back his wrist so she could see his hand.
"Oh Blaine, are you okay?" She asked, concern lighting up her coffee colored eyes.
He hissed and looked up at the ceiling, his other hand curling into a fist as a stinging, sharp pain shot up through his bones, muscles and veins as the cold water pounded onto the swollen, hot skin, numbing him slightly.
"Fuck, no, I'm not okay. Goddamnit that hurt." He spoke through his teeth.
"Let me see." She said softly, pulling his hand back from the sink and grabbing a paper towel. She dabbed his finger than he had cut, kissing his cheek when he gave a small wince in pain and pulled the paper towel back to look at the damage. "It doesn't look too bad." She said softly. "Not deep enough for stitches. Just a jagged cut is all."
Blood easily slipped through the long stripe on his finger, seeping into the pattern of his skin and dripping into the palm of his hand. Rachel swallowed, her eyes trailing the drop of blood as it skated down his skin. He went to take the paper towel from her to soak it up and put pressure on it but she stopped him. He frowned softly, confused, looking down at her as she looked up at him. Their eyes connected, hazel searching coffee, before she leaned her head down and pressed a kiss to the tips of his fingers.
"Rachel…what are you—"
Her tongue dipped along his finger, gliding along his cut, the sensation odd and new—and maybe it was purely from Rachel's tongue gliding all the way down to the dip of blood pooling in his palm or the fact that she hadn't broken eye contact with him since she started…but his cock definitely jerked hard in his pants.
He never knew Rachel had had a kink…for…well, blood. They had never really played out either of their kinks before, had talked about them sure, but usually they were both incredibly too impatient to slow down in the bedroom to consider kinks. Blaine had a thing for watersports and Rachel liked her hair pulled…hard. So okay, maybe her being into blood wasn't exactly a far stretch. And it wasn't exactly his thing…but seeing her eyes go from concerned to incredibly turned on in three seconds flat was honestly all that he really needed to get going. He leaned down as he tilted her chin with his other hand, capturing her lips. The kiss was hard and desperate, his tongue sliding into her mouth without waiting for permission as he hooked his arm around her waist. She moaned softly as he jerked her up against his body, her legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing him. He could feel the heat of her center pressing against his stomach as he shoved her onto the kitchen counter, harshly pushing aside the cookbook, a plate of cookies, a few plastic cups, some silverware and a container full of cereal onto the floor as he was purposely a little rough with her.
Blaine hiked himself up onto the counter to straddle her legs, lifting her dress up and over her head in one fluid motion. He placed the fabric under her to cradle her spine against the hard surface of the counter and spread her legs, kissing the tops of her thighs as he looked up at her. He bit his lip and squeezed her knee—making sure this was alright before he continued. She knew that all she had to say was a simple 'stop' and he would…but he just wanted to make sure she was okay.
A slight head nod was all he needed and he leaned down and kissed the inside of her thighs, sliding her underwear aside before he blew on her clit. She bit her lip and let out a harsh moan, his lips trailing down to swirl his tongue along the soft skin of her thigh near her pussy lips before he bit down, hard—hard enough to draw blood.
And he did.
Rachel hissed, her hips buckling into Blaine's mouth as the hot, metallic taste flowed into his mouth. The jerk of her hips smeared the blood across his lower lip as he circled his tongue over the bite marks, trailing all the way up to circle her clit before sliding inside of her, angling up as his thumb came to brush her clit every so often. It didn't take a long time for her to cum—the taste of her rolling into his mouth as her walls clenched around his tongue. He pulled back and moved to swipe up the blood on her shaking thigh, before kissing her deeply. She moaned at the taste of herself in his mouth, his tongue swirling around hers and gliding across it hungrily. He felt her hand slide down and cup him through his jeans—he was so incredibly hard, aching to get out of the damn confines of his pants.
She unzipped him and pulled him out, making him cum with sprays of white across her pussy and thighs in four hard strokes. He groaned and buried his face in her shoulder, the counter and their skin a mess of blood, sweat, cum and…oddly enough remnants of sugar (they were in the kitchen after all).
Blaine kissed her shoulder blade gently, pulling back to place a kiss on her nose. He stared at her for a long moment, a hint of a smile playing with the edges of his mouth "I think someone has a slight kink that they've been hiding." He said softly, his nose ghosting over her upper lip.
Rachel just giggled, gently pushing on his chest so he'd slide off of her. He did so and cleaned himself up before zipping. "I'm going to go get the band aids with Mickey Mouse on them that you bought and brought home last Friday.' She hummed, pecking his lips before sliding her underwear on after cleaning herself up as well.
Blaine blushed as she jumped from the counter, smoothing out her skirt. "They were on sale!"
She smirked and went down the hall to retrieve the items, hopefully bringing the Neosporin with her. He glanced around the kitchen and rubbed the back of his neck. The counter was a mess and various items were littered across the floor. He really had to make a mental note that kitchen sex (along with any kinks that went with it) should really come after dinner…when all the dishes were done or something.
The oven beeped.
0o0o0o0o
First snowfall
Okay, so maybe he was being sort of ridiculous. No, maybe he definitely was. But he couldn't help it. Blaine absolutely loved winter and pretty much everything the season brought with it. He loved the snow and the way the flakes fell ever so perfectly, just like the song said, on noses and eyelashes. He loved wrapping himself up in giant sweaters and peacoats, beanies and scarves—wrapping gloved hands around Rachel and drawing her close to nuzzle red noses together as he took a walk with her through Central Park. He loved trees covered in snow; the snowmen that were built that always seemed to manage a day before falling apart, hot coffee steam curling out of travel mugs, the concept of Christmas approaching and the city slowly becoming dawned in wreaths with candy canes and twinkle lights and of course, football starting up. But there was nothing he loved more; he was pretty sure, than the very first snowfall of the season.
Every since he was little, he was pretty sure he had been born with a sixth sense for snow. Like, it sounded funny in his head but he always had been able to predict when the first snowfall was going to happen. The wind would be crisper, an icy, frigid feeling that went all the way down to his bones, the air just…it smelled like snow. There was no simple way to put it. But every year, no matter what day snow decided to grace the city or town he was in with its presence, he was always right in predicting it at last a few hours before. His mother had always told him that he could do the job of weatherman twice as better as some of the assclowns that were working on the news stations on TV…he kept that in mind for future reference in case his understudy positions didn't go his way.
Rachel had gone to bed a long time ago, curled up into his side, her nose dipped into his shoulder as her arm settled across his waist—but he hadn't been able to sleep. He knew it was going to snow—he could sense it from the moment he walked out of his understudy practice to head home.
And then, finally, at three AM he saw them—bright, white, fluffy flakes of snow starting to come down until a pace was reached and inches of snow started to cover the city of New York. He nearly jumped out of bed, stirring Rachel beside him as he searched for layers to put on.
"Hey, sleepy head—"
"Blaine?" She frowned softly as she squinted from her position on the pillow. "What's going on, what's wrong?" She asked, still half asleep—her voice was confused, not sure whether sure she should be alarmed or not at his fast paced motions.
"Nothing," He smiled, pulling on a layer of thermals before yanking on a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt and finally his boots. "Come on, I want to show you something."
She sighed. "Now?" She glanced at the clock. "Babe, it's four in the morning."
"Actually it's three." He went into their shared closet and pulled out the warmest things she had, along with a scarf, hat and gloves.
"See, I can't even read the clock it's so early." She mumbled, clearly not happy with Blaine's eager excited self.
He sat on the bed and ran his hands through her hair, kissing her forehead before her lips gently. He then wrapped the scarf around her neck, grinning at her. "Come on, I'll make hot chocolate!"
She really had no choice as he left the room to do so, humming The Christmas Song a bit too cheerily for her liking—but she pulled herself out of bed anyways and yanked her clothes on, following Blaine into the kitchen a few sluggish minutes later.
000
"So let me get this straight. You woke me up at four—"
"Three."
"Three in the morning to look at snow."
Blaine grinned. "Not just any snow, the first snowfall of the year."
Rachel sighed, her breath puffing in little clouds of white as she turned and looked at him as they stood outside on their balcony—large flakes of snow falling down in rapid succession all around them.
"That's what's great about first snowfalls, they happen every year." She mumbled, sipping her hot chocolate. The liquid burned her tongue and the roof of her mouth but the sensation was welcome against the frigid air.
"This is different." He said softly, taking her hand in his to remove her one glove. She started to protest but then noticed he was doing the same—to show their wedding rings. "These make it different."
Blaine slid his fingers through hers, the lights from their deck and the city bouncing off her diamond ring and creating small cylindrical tubes of rainbow colored light refract off the snow at their feet.
Rachel finally smiled, the first and most genuine thing he had seen since she had woken up and wrapped her arms around Blaine's neck, drawing him down for a long, tender kiss that warmed them both up from the inside.
"I love you." She said softly, against his lips, her nose bumping against his.
He cupped her face with his gloved hand, smirking softly as snowflakes peppered her skin—especially on her nose and eyelashes. "I love you too." He murmured.
Blaine loved first snowfalls.
But this one was different. It was special. Because not only was this the first snowfall of the season. It was their first snowfall, together—in New York…as a married couple.