I don't know where this came from. Fluffy/flirty Klaine below!
"Jesus Christ, Blaine, what the hell is in this box? Bricks?" Kurt huffed out as he carted one of Blaine's boxes into what would now be their bedroom in Bushwick.
"I may have thrown, uh, all of my bow ties and sweaters in there?" Blaine replied sheepishly, making the statement sound more like a question.
"All of your- Blaine, I thought you stopped wearing bow ties last year!" Kurt dropped the box in the middle of the floor, making a thump that was sure to piss off their downstairs neighbors. They could deal, it was still quieter than their weekly 3 am Irish step dance party. Kurt had a recurring nightmare about four-leaf clovers and the Lord of the Dance.
"I only stopped because Sam told me they weren't 'the right image' for being class president. Then I remembered that I was taking style advice from a guy who wears plaid button-downs every other day and rescued them from storage." Blaine crouched down to pull the flaps of the box open. "Oh, it's been too long!" he said, stroking the top-most ties lovingly.
"B, we're going to have to have a talk about your bow tie fetish," Kurt said, one eyebrow quirked judgmentally. "You sounded happier to see them than you were to see me at the train station this morning."
"Did I? I guess I'll have to make up for that, then." Blaine got a predatory grin on his face after that statement and started sauntering over to Kurt. He leaned in for a kiss when- "No no stop what are you-"
Kurt scrabbled his fingers along the back of Blaine's neck, making Blaine duck away and twitch madly. "That's for loving your accessories more than me!" Kurt cackled, trying to keep contact with Blaine no matter how much he swerved away.
"Baby no I love you the most oh God please stop!" Blaine said all in one breath, tears falling down his face from laughter. "Uncle, uncle!"
"I suppose that's enough payback for one day," said Kurt with a last giggle. "I'm not sure if I can trust you, though - you were under duress."
"You know I think you're the foxiest man alive, Kurt." Blaine punctuated this statement with a wink and a pull to the fox tail hanging out of Kurt's back pocket. "Even without being waterboarded into saying it."
Kurt leaned down and pecked Blaine on the lips. "All right, B, that fulfilled your bad pun quota for at least the rest of the year, if not the entire decade. Shall we get to unpacking?"
"I can think of one thing in particular I'd like to start with," smirked Blaine, eyebrows waggling in a way that was somehow both lascivious and goofy. Kurt didn't understand how Blaine's eyebrows worked sometimes.
"Cool it, Anderson. I'm not spending the semester living in squalor because my boyfriend was too horny to hang up his clothes when he moved in."
"You're no fun, baby," Blaine pouted, giving Kurt his "the hunters just shot my mommy" eyes.
"I never said we couldn't finish that way, B. Now hurry up, the faster your clothes are unpacked, the faster we can make full use of our one day to ourselves before Rachel and Santana drag their asses back here," Kurt ordered, bending over to grab a few of Blaine's polo shirts out of the closest box and wiggling his ass playfully.
Blaine moaned quietly and got to work with a speed that Nightbird would have been proud of.