Because someone needs to have this kind of intervention with Blaine, stat.
Kurt was starting to regret his offer to help Blaine unpack all his clothing for his triumphant return to the loft.
Oh God, I should've taken up Gunther on that offer to cover Mellie's shift, he thought as he surveyed the amount of boxes he had left to unpack, comparing it to how much rack space remained. Blaine had left about half of his clothes back in Ohio when he'd originally moved to the city, knowing space was at a premium, but when it was revealed that the loft was going to be just for the two of them, he'd had them ship it all over. Kurt couldn't blame him, though – he'd asked his own father to send over a few of the more delicate pieces he'd left at home now that he had the space to store them properly.
"You doing alright, babe?" Blaine asked, breaking Kurt out of his thoughts. He was on the other side of the boxes from Kurt, organizing all his bow ties in color-coordinated rows in their dresser. "I'm thinking about running down to Starbucks and getting something cold to drink."
"If you go, will you get me an iced mocha?" Kurt said, wiping his forehead. "I'm pretty sure if I try to climb through the wreckage over here, I'll twist my ankle."
"Sure thing," Blaine said. "Venti?"
"It might keep me up until three am, but yes, please," Kurt said. "I think I'm almost done with your pants, which means we'll only have your shirts left once you get back, and I need the energy boost."
"You never really realize how much stuff you own until you have to unpack all of it, do you?" Blaine remarked, looking at the clusters of boxes all over their bed and the surrounding floor.
"We might need to organize a Goodwill donation some time soon. I know I have a few pieces that are a little too small or outdated for me," Kurt said, flicking through his mental closet.
"I just donated some of my clothes before graduation, but I could look through my stuff again," Blaine said, navigating his way through the boxes. "There's probably something I missed the first time. You need anything else while I'm out?"
"No, we'll worry about dinner once we're finally done with this," Kurt said, digging out the last few pairs of pants from his open box.
"Okay, I'll be back in a sec!" Blaine waved with his phone, showing Kurt he had it on him in case he needed to reach him, and hustled out the door, leaving Kurt to his unpacking.
Kurt mindlessly hummed snippets of pop songs as he hung Blaine's last few pairs of pants, making sure the rainbow order of Blaine's rack was still perfectly aligned and that none of the summer clothes had made their way into the winter stuff or vice versa. Finally, he grabbed the box and stacked it in front of him with the rest of the empties, idly noting that seven-year-old Kurt would have loved having such a huge box fort in his bedroom.
Twenty-year-old Kurt wasn't as stoked, though, and he let out a tired huff as he bent over and pulled open the first of Blaine's four boxes of shirts. He let himself go on autopilot as he pushed the other three boxes to the floor next to him and started placing shirts on the bed, sorting them easily by color, type, and season. Soon, though, the ridiculous sight before him clicked in his brain, and he stopped working, staring incredulously at the bed.
"Hey, baby, I'm back!" Blaine's voice called out then. The sound got closer as he continued, "I got us a couple of cake pops, too. They just looked so – why are you staring at my shirts?"
"B. Come here for a sec," Kurt said, not taking his eyes off the bed.
"Okay?" Blaine said. He picked his way through the mess again, offering Kurt his drink once he got close enough and taking a swig of his own.
After taking his own sip of coffee, Kurt continued, "Do you see anything wrong with this picture?"
"Um...all I see is my shirts lined up nicely on our bed?"
"Any other details about them?"
"They're all red?" Blaine uptalked. "Are you testing me for colorblindness?"
"Exactly, Blaine. They're all red," Kurt said, taking another drink. "There are seventeen polo shirts on this bed right now, Blaine. Not to mention the eight button downs and assorted other types of shirts."
"There are not seventeen!" Blaine protested. After a moment of silence that Kurt assumed was Blaine counting for himself, he spoke up again. "Okay, maybe there are seventeen. So?"
"Blaine. How could you just have donated clothing to Goodwill and still have seventeen red polos left?" Kurt arched an eyebrow at his fiance.
"They're not all the same shade of red!" Blaine said. "And you always tell me how good I look in red."
"That doesn't mean you have to buy out Lacoste's entire collection," Kurt said, smiling slightly. It felt flattering to know that his opinions affected Blaine's clothing choices so much, and to be fair, he acted similarly when Blaine complimented him on his skinny jeans. "Can we get rid of a few of the more repeated shades, please?"
"I suppose," Blaine said, sighing dramatically. "It's going to be so hard to choose, though – do I want to keep the fire engine red one or the slightly more orange toned one more?"
"Well, whatever you choose, you're keeping this one," Kurt said, snagging a darker one from the middle stack. "It works the best with your skin tone, and you've worn and washed it so often that it feels amazing when we cuddle."
"Gee, I dunno, that one might actually be my least favorite," Blaine teased.
"I'll let you tell me which pair of skinny jeans I'm never allowed to get rid of," Kurt said, giving his hips a playful wiggle.
Blaine's eyes glazed over. "Deal."
Kurt would always be grateful that winning any argument was easy if he appeased Blaine's libido.