Author's Note: Klaine klaine klaine. Blangst and fluff.
Short. So short. And tight. What the hell was he thinking wearing those? Is he trying to distract me. He's trying to distract me, that must be it. Cheater. What a cheater. Oh–
Blaine links his hands together behind his back and stretches until his shoulders crack. Kurt's still staring as he approaches–quite obviously, if Blaine might add–but he manages to blink himself out of his daze and fall into step with Blaine as they walk the length of the center line of the gymnasium. Blaine keeps his hands linked behind his back as they walk, a gentle skip to his step; Kurt shamelessly sizes him up–he's nothing but legs right now, a small miracle in itself given Blaine's height.
"Did they shrink in the wash or did you buy them like that?" he finally asks.
Blaine offers a tamed smirk and unlinks his hands, swinging them forward. When they reach the middle of the gymnasium he stops and turns to face Kurt. "Do you like them?"
Before Kurt can answer Blaine puts all of his weight onto one leg and rests his hand on his hip, cocking it up and causing the miniscule length of fabric to ride up his thigh even further.
"...they're alright," Kurt says nonchalantly. He receives a snarky eye roll in return before Blaine starts to walk away. "If I let you win, do I get to see what's hiding underneath?"
Blaine actually snorts and casts Kurt a look over his shoulder that can only mean one thing: why don't we find out?
A shiver runs its course down Kurt's spine as he stands somewhere on the opposite side of the gym; the bold line dividing the courts acts as an invisible barrier between the two star-crossed lovers, both of them playful and unaware of the rest of their teammates. When the whistle blows their tunnel vision for each other activates; Blaine sprints towards the center of the room to grab one the five balls neatly lined up; Kurt remains where he is, spreads his legs and bends his knees, bracing himself to jump out of the way of any flying spheres if necessary. Blaine skids to a stop and swipes up a ball before hopping back a few spaces; the gentle smirk on his face soars straight to Kurt's chest where it nestles itself safely inside his heart–Kurt's veins are flooded with 'Blaine Anderson' with each thunderous pump.
"Kurt, look out!"
Sam's voice reaches him just in time to be able to duck before the swishing of the ball overhead is all that fills his ears. Kurt turns his attention to Blaine again, who is currently doing a split in midair to avoid being hit. His eyes brighten when he touches the ground again and he shouts words that Kurt can't quite hear, but can make out none-the-less, "Did you see that?!"
Kurt grabs a stray ball as it rolls past and lobs it in the general direction of Blaine, who jumps out of the way and gasps, face appalled for a fleeting second, before bursting out into his signature wide-mouth laughter. While Kurt knows that Blaine appreciates sports, he never takes them seriously–it's one of the things that Kurt loves most about him.
"Kurt," he yells, still laughing. "You'll pay for th–"
Kurt blinks and it's enough time for the entire scene to change: Blaine suddenly has both hands over his face as a dodgeball bounces away lazily near his feet. He doesn't even hesitate before starting to sprint towards that invisible barrier; the dull, muffled protests from his teammate surround him in a hazy cloud and, for one millisecond, he considers stopping to hear what they are trying to say. But something else catches his attention first; blood is trickling down Blaine's wrists.
"Blaine!" Kurt has never run faster. "Oh my god, are you okay?"
His eyes are tightly shut, but that's doing nothing to keep the tears from leaking out of them. Kurt takes him by the elbow and leads him over to the entrance of the locker room; their classmates have stopped temporarily to watch, but continue their game as soon as Kurt and Blaine have cleared the line of fire. Sam sprints over from across the room to join them as Coach Bieste approaches.
"Here, let me see, baby," Kurt coos and tries to pull Blaine's hands down; Blaine shakes his head and keeps them exactly where they are.
"You okay, Anderson?" Coach Bieste takes in the sight of the blood and scrunches up her face, frowning. "Yeesh."
Blaine nods, hands still cupped over his nose and mouth, and trails off into the locker room before anyone else can get another word in.
"Kurt, you wanna escort him to the nurse's office?"
"Yeah," he replies hurriedly and pushes open the locker room door before it's even had a chance to close. When Sam opens his mouth to speak, a shake of the head is all Kurt offers him before rushing inside. "Blaine?"
The echoing sound of running water leads him to the very back of the locker room where he finds Blaine at one of the sinks; the water in the porcelain basis resembles pink lemonade, but the source of the unsanitary dye is another story completely. Uncoagulated and deep red, Kurt can't tell where the river starts or ends; the actual wound remains a mystery, even as he draws nearer.
"Hey, handsome," he says uncertainly to try to ease Blaine's mood. He doesn't exactly receive the result he's hoping for as Blaine turns to him, wide-eyed and clearly very upset. Up close, Kurt can see that his lip is swollen with a crevice as wide as the Grand Canyon right down the middle.
"Are you making fun of me?" He whimpers and looks back at the mirror, shoving a clean paper towel against his lip. It takes seconds for blood to spread through it like wildfire.
"Of course not, sweetie," Kurt frowns and places his hand over the paper towel to hold it in place. "I've got it, put your hand down."
Blaine lowers his hand and Kurt doesn't need to see his mouth to know that he would be frowning—his eyes say it all. Five minutes and one small paper towel mountain later though, the bleeding seems to ease up.
"Did you see who threw it?" Kurt wets another paper towel and gingerly presses it to Blaine's lip.
"No," Blaine winces. "I think it was an accident though."
"I think you put too much faith in the goodness of people," Kurt unconsciously lets his mouth hang open slightly as he pulls the paper towel away to check on Blaine's lip. "I think it's stopped bleeding."
Blaine immediately turns to the mirror and and exhales a small, strangled gasp. "It looks hideous," the excess water in his eyes seems to have traveled down to his throat, turning the words to liquid as he looks at himself from different angles.
"Shh, shh," Kurt's hand flies to Blaine's back and begins massaging small circles into it. "We'll put some ice on it and the swelling will go down in no time. Besides, it makes you look tough." He pauses to nuzzle Blaine's neck. "My big, strong boyfriend with his battle scars."
Despite the tears streaming down his face, Blaine can't help but snort loudly. "I was attacked in the face by a ball."
"As if you're not used to balls in your face by now," a voice suddenly cuts through their perceived intimacy and Noah Puckerman steps out one of the toilet stalls, stretching his arms above his head.
"Fucking hell–Puck! What were you even–" Kurt screeches, heart racing as fast as the stream of words that have left his mouth.
"I skipped out and took a nap," he interrupts with a goofy smile.
Blaine simply laughs even more.
"Jeez, Anderson, you look worse than you did during our Fight club days."
"I thought we agreed never to mention that again," Blaine wipes his eyes, suddenly very aware of how embarrassed he's beginning to feel with his vulnerablities on display for the both of them. Kurt raises two curious eyebrows. "Don't ask. Please, don't even ask."
A sly Jack-Skellington-esque grin creeps up onto Puck's face. "I'll explain it to you later when we all go out for ice cream, Kurt."
"Since when are we–" Blaine begins.
"Make it frozen yogurt and you've got a deal." Kurt cuts Blaine off before planting a kiss on his cheek. Even with his lip swollen, Kurt can tell Blaine has conceded and resorted to pouting instead to try to change their minds.
"I can live with frozen yogurt, I guess," Puck strokes his chin thoughtfully. "See you later!" He walks away, raising his arm up and waving before disappearing out the door. Kurt waves to his back and turns to Blaine again.
"Oh, don't give me that look," he kisses his forehead. When Blaine juts his lip out further and takes a seat on the sink Kurt rests his hand against his bare knee and suddenly remembers just how exposed his boyfriend is. "Oh. These shorts. Have I told you how much I love this fabric?"
"You mean 'lack there of,' Blaine shivers as a wave of goose-bumps spreads from the area beneath Kurt's fingertips up his thigh.
"I mean 'lack there of,' Kurt leans in close and, though his whisper is airy and barely non-existant, Blaine can't help but squirm under the weight of it. "You never answered my question earlier."
"I bought them like this," Blaine says.
Kurt gives his arm a playful swat and furrows his eyebrows.
"Oh, you mean the other one," Blaine laughs and curls his legs around Kurt's waist. "Doesn't you escorting me away with an injury count as a draw?"
"You knew I was going to jump your bones, regardless," Kurt rolls his eyes.
"Yeah. I knew. I didn't think it'd be in the boys locker room though."
"First time for everything," Kurt replies with a smirk. "...so, how much time do we have before class is over?"
"Enough," Blaine says quickly and pulls Kurt closer. "Enough."
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