'Hey B, I'm home.' Kurt calls out as he lets the door slam shut behind him. He's exhausted; his whole week has been filled with gruelling hours of dance classes at school and late nights at Vogue. It's Friday and all he wants to do is cuddle up with Blaine and sleep for the entire weekend.

'Honey, are you in?' Kurt calls out again. Blaine isn't in the lounge, curled up on the sofa or doing work at the desk in the corner like he usually is, and Kurt can see through the open door that he's not in the bedroom either.

'In here?' comes Blaine's muffled reply, and Kurt follows the sound of his voice until he reaches the kitchen.

Kurt stops dead.

Blaine has on one of his ridiculously upbeat playlists and is currently dancing manically around their kitchen whilst he makes pasta. He turns as Kurt enters the room, shaking his hips exaggeratedly in time to the music and waving his wooden spoon at Kurt in greeting.

He's also in his underwear.

Only his underwear.

Kurt stares, a smirk playing at his lips as Blaine turns and continues stirring the food, singing along loudly to the music as if none of this is out of the ordinary. It actually takes Kurt a couple of seconds longer than usual to regain his composure and wonder what the hell is going on, but his fiancé is half naked and… gyrating, would probably be the best word for it, so it's understandable.

'Blaine, what are you doing?'

'Making you pasta of course!' Blaine beams, doing some kind of ridiculous shimmy that Kurt can't help but smile at and then winking before turning back to the pasta. Kurt's not actually sure how much cooking is going on right now though, he thinks Blaine might just be dancing around the saucepan rather than doing anything with it.

'In your underwear?' Kurt's mainly teasing now. He's known Blaine for far too long to really be surprised by any of the weird (and admittedly wonderful) things he does. He can already feel himself bubbling with the happiness Blaine is exuding; it works its way under his skin, into his veins like liquid joy, racing through his body until he can't do anything but smile giddily at his fiancé.

Blaine is adorable, all golden skin and bright eyes, lips quirked into a contagious smile that's just for Kurt. He sings along as he cooks and Kurt just wants to stride across the apartment and grab him, kissing him until he lips can't form one more word of the song he's currently singing.

When Blaine finally replies it's with a smirk.

'That's the only way to do it.'

'You're ridiculous.'

'And you're wearing too many clothes.' Blaine stops cooking long enough to cross their tiny kitchen and meet Kurt halfway. He starts to unbutton Kurt's shirt before he's even stopped moving, his fingers working deftly at the buttons and then skimming over Kurt's skin. It makes Kurt shiver in the most unexpected of ways, one second Blaine is smiling and dancing, and the next his eyes are dark and ravenous as they look Kurt up and down.

'Hey, hey what are you doing?' Kurt laughs, although he doesn't make a move to stop Blaine as his fiancé moves his attention from Kurt's shirt to his jeans. Kurt shrugs the material off his shoulders, letting it fall and pool around his feet without a second thought. Momentarily, Blaine stops, and he looks up just long enough to give Kurt an exasperated look, but then he's back to working Kurt's fly undone as he speaks.

'How are you going to dance in your underwear with me if you're not in your underwear?'

Kurt laughs, loud and free. He lets his head fall forward to rest on Blaine's naked shoulder, nuzzling his forehead into his fiancé's neck and smiling wider than he has all day. Blaine's body is warm, probably from the heat of the kitchen, or maybe he just turned the heating on in the hope that it would entice Kurt to get naked. Kurt doesn't really care either way, he just wraps his arms around Blaine's body, letting his hands wander the planes of his back, and kisses Blaine, slow and soft, and kind of messy due to the fact that they're both smiling so much.

'Here.' he says, pulling back with one last kiss to the tip of Blaine's nose. He bats at Blaine's hands, shooing them away from where they're still trying to get his jeans undone. 'Let me, you carry on with dinner.'

Blaine pouts but goes back to the pasta anyway, allowing Kurt to kick his trousers off and collect the rest of his clothes from the floor.

'So what are you making me?' Kurt calls out. He leaves the room to throw his clothes in the laundry basket, and then lingers in the doorway to stare unashamedly at Blaine's ass while he works, but hey, it's there and it's clad in extremely tight boxers, so who can blame him?

'Your favourite: Carbonara.' Blaine grins again, he doesn't physically think he can stop, and then he does this little half-skip, half-jog over to peck Kurt on the lips.

'Why are you so happy tonight?' Kurt grins back. It's not like he's complaining, Blaine has already managed to brighten up his day just by being himself.

'Why shouldn't I be happy? I'm in the city that I love, going to my dream school, engaged to the most beautiful man in all the universe, and I have an entire weekend to do nothing but cook in my underwear with him.' Blaine pulls Kurt clumsily into his arms, linking their hands together and pulling him into an uncoordinated waltz in the middle of their kitchen.

'The whole universe huh?' Kurt grins. They both trip as Blaine tries to guide him into a spin, but neither of them care when their limbs are tangling together, fingers grabbing at bare arms for stability, and the both of them end up smiling so wide it hurts. They cling to each other, hands roaming shamelessly as they dance their clumsy dance.

'Yep, even when science gets so advanced that we can make contact with all the aliens out there who have had way longer to evolve into the perfect species and become the hottest race in the galaxy, you'll still be more attractive.'

'Well I'm glad, I wouldn't want you leaving me to dance with some alien man in his bionic and far less fashionable underwear.'

'Never.' Blaine says it without thinking, smiling as he leans forward to press his and Kurt's lips together. They kiss until the hissing of the pasta gets too much and Blaine has to salvage it. It's slow and sweet; easy, relaxed with the knowledge that they have the whole weekend to do nothing but kiss each other. Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine's neck, his fingers tangling with the hair uncurling from the gel there just to feel Blaine shiver against his body. Blaine's hands wrap securely around Kurt's waist, he slots their bodies together perfectly so they can sway in time to the music.

'You better get used to this Kurt Hummel, this is your life from now on, nothing but dancing and cooking and being in love in various states of undress.' When Blaine eventually manages to drag himself away from Kurt's body, it's with a smirk, he leaves their hands tangled together as he cooks, and Kurt follows him simply because he can't bear to have that much distance between the two of them. 'Also sex, we're going to have lots and lots of sex for all eternity.'

'I can't wait.'

Kurt's beaming, he feels like he's floating, like nothing in this world could bring him down. Blaine is right, he's in his favourite place in the world, with his favourite person in the world, and they're happy and ridiculously in love and so stressed about school and work and rent and wedding plans that he just wants to forget everything. He doesn't want to focus on anything but the pounding of his favourite songs so loud he can barely think, and the feeling of Blaine's hands on his naked skin, and the messy, childish, disjointed rhythm of their dancing as they spin around one another.

He dips Blaine low, like in those silly rom coms they both not-so-secretly love, just to watch Blaine's lips quirk into a smile and feel his fingers grip harder against Kurt's body. Neither of them even think about how ridiculous they must look, how the neighbours that they're still trying to win over must be able to hear their music and their laughter and their footsteps as they crash about their kitchen. All they think about is how happy they feel, how sometimes you're twenty years old in a city that's so fast paced you'll get lost if you're not careful, and how sometimes all you need is the love of your life and the sound of the scissor sisters to ground you, to just be reckless and unrestricted and silly for five minutes.

Blaine is singing, loudly and somehow still perfectly in tune, hollow words about someone else's love life that somehow relate exactly to theirs. It's all hands and teeth and kisses and stumbling feet until eventually they both agree they should have dinner.

Sitting at their kitchen table, the one they'd bought on discount that barely seats the two of them, let alone guests, they grin and feed each other bites of food. Blaine still taps his foot along in time to the music, as if the rhythm has worked its way into his body and is now desperate to escape in any way possible. His eyes soften every time he looks at Kurt and Kurt feels himself melt a little every time their gazes meet. It amazes him that after almost five years together Blaine can still reduce him to a blushing school boy.

'I love you. I can't wait until we get married.'

'I can't believe this is my life, this is my life with you, Kurt, and I've never been happier. I can't wait until we get married either.'

'Although when we do we'll have a bigger kitchen right?'

'Of course.'

Blaine's eyes shine with unadulterated adoration, both of them giddy and lightheaded and exuberant as they chuckle and clean up and get ready for round two of whatever this ridiculous evening has turned into.

'I love you way more than all of the hot alien men out there.' Blaine sighs happily as he spins Kurt once again.

'You're almost more ridiculous than your dance moves.'

'But you love me anyway.'

'That I do.'