"Blaine Devon Anderson you did not just roll your eyes at me!"
They were -quite literally- wrestling on the couch. Clothing pushed askew, fingers gripping skin, hair. Teeth nipping at lips and tongue. It was almost a mystery how they ended up there, except it wasn't.
They had been snuggled up on the couch, reality t.v. playing as Kurt started talking about their outfits, ever the fashion diva. "Look at that.. Thing. That's an atrocity to mankind. Why would you wear something like that? I mean look at the way it fits her shoulders. I'm all for giving something flair but there are some things about certain designs that make my heart hurt in a thousand different ways."
Blaine's cheek was resting on Kurt's shoulder, eyes following the motion on the television. "I kinda like it." It was a quiet sentiment, a little smile quirking up the corner of his mouth.
And then Kurt had sat up abruptly, causing an unaware Blaine to let out an undignified shriek as he fell over. "What is there to like about thatthing?" Kurt made a wild gesture towards the t.v., eyes locked on his fiancé as the other man pushed himself back up into a sitting position.
"It's just.. Interesting. It's unique and fascinating. I saw a girl in the subway today wearing something astonishingly similar and I thought it looked really neat. I complimented." Blaine gave a little shrug, fingers picking at the sleeve of his cardigan.
"Blaine!" The younger man jumped slightly at the sudden raise in pitch of his partner's voice. "That's completely disgusting. What did you say to her?" Kurt's eyes were prying, as if they were tearing through Blaine's soul.
"I just said that it was different and really neat and she wore it quite well. She asked if it were something I'd wear if it, y'know, better suit my anatomy, and I said of course—"
"Absolutely not! You would never be allowed to wear such an absolute demon spawn item of clothing. You know I'm all for things that are different, but there are some things that even Kurt Hummel can't save. The sooner you grasp that when it comes to fashion, I will always be right, the easier it'll be on you when I undoubtedly turn down another of your desperate attempts to wear a bow tie on date night no matter how adorable you look in them. Because sometimes I want the world to see how sexy my fiancé is rather than see how well he portrays a puppy—Blaine Devon Anderson you did not just roll your eyes at me!"
And he had. About half way through Kurt's rather passionate diction on why he's always right, Blaine had been just barely resisting the urge to do so. It wasn't until his bow ties became the topic of criticism that he was unable to contain the sarcastic eye roll.
"So what if I did?" Blaine muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up into Kurt's bitch face with a challenge painted clearly over his features. Kurt let out a noise teetering on the line between outraged and astonished. They rarely fought, and when they did, it was over something as ridiculous as this. They were glaring at each other, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed, waiting.
And then Kurt pounced, fingers locking around the collar of Blaine's polo and yanking him into a searing kiss. Kurt's tongue pushed against the seam of Blaine's lips almost immediately, easing the darker haired man's mouth open with an ease gained only from experience. Kurt hissed as Blaine's teeth nipped into his searching tongue, chasing it back into his mouth with his own as his fingers found purchase on Kurt's hips and dragged him closer.
Their chests were pressed together, Kurt's hands sliding from their place at Blaine's throat to grip onto his shoulders. Kurt pulled back, giving a little tutting noise when Blaine tried to chase his lips.
"Clothes off. Now." His fingers flexed into Blaine's shoulders before he let go completely.
"Why don't you take them off me yourself?" His tone was sardonic, a small smirk spreading over his lips as he quirked an eyebrow.
"Blaine, I told you to take off your fucking clothes. Because I promise that I won't be the least bit unhappy if I tear that hideous cardigan," contempt riddled Kurt's words as he sat back on his heels, glaring up at Blaine from under his lashes with salacious eyes.
"Mm, I like it when you get feisty," Blaine chuckled darkly, fingers moving to slowly unbutton his cardigan.
And that's how they ended up where they were now. Kurt had surged forward once more, all but tearing off Blaine's clothing and working a pained noise from the back of his fiancé's throat when he popped a button on the polo in his haste to remove layers. Kurt's mouth was travelling over Blaine's chest, tongue flickering out to sweep over peeked nipples as Blaine moaned wantonly around the fingers Kurt had shoved into his mouth in an attempt to shut him up.
This was the way most of their arguments ended. They were always told never to go to bed angry, so the best deterrent for that happened to be rough and rather dispassionate sex.
So they sorted out their differences like adults and carried on with their lives as usual. Until next time.