A/N: Ta-da! The seventh installment of Autocorrected, in celebration of my six month anniversary of posting on FF for the first time and as the regular monthly installment. I'll post a few more things up tomorrow, also in celebration.
A brief warning, there is some French in this chapter (I'm studying up because I have a fiction I'll be coming out with in the next few months that has French dialogue) but all of the translations are at the end; so try not to get frustrated if you don't understand, I try to explain most of them in story but did not bother with a few. I apologize if anything is not correct, please let me know and I'll change it.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters depicted. This is a work of fan fiction.
Enjoy!
Blaine woke up early.
How could he possibly sleep any longer when all he could think about was Kurt agreeing to marry him and he did not even have a ring? He needed to find a ring. It had to be perfect too. Nothing plain but nothing flashy, something perfectly Kurt.
Because in the simplest terms it had to be perfect and it had to be Kurt.
So in lue of waking his sleeping fiancé with his tossing and turning, Blaine slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen to make breakfast for everyone as quietly as possible. While Rachel was obviously up despite the early hour, Blaine did not want to have to deal with an angry Latina as much as he did not want to wake Kurt because he wanted him happy, healthy, and well rested (he also may have worn the young man out the night before, but that was beside the point).
The curly haired teen smiled despite himself as his mind drifted off into memories about the night before, a smirk pulling at his lips as the memories grew—he chuckled—interesting, to say the least.
As he lost himself in making omelets (one of the few things that he was good at cooking, even to the point of impressing Kurt) time slipped past him as he made each one specifically the way the person liked. Cooking his first because even if Rachel was up, she would take longer in the shower than it would take to cook hers, his and about ten other people's (seeing as hers was no egg and pretty much all green). So he moved onto Santana's taking his time to mix it before he heard the shower shut off and switched over to throwing Rachel's into the skillet (of course after he had stopped to eat his), setting it out on the table to cool before moving back to make Santana's and do the same thing with hers.
Kurt's was last. He was allowed to be bias towards the taller young man, so he allowed himself plenty of time to make it just the way Kurt liked. Even as Rachel and Santana filtered in to eat, he focused on making the mix perfect and putting it away until Kurt came in so that he could have it fresh. He kept the stove on but pulled the skillet off before sitting on the counter so that he could talk to the girls, while keeping an eye on the hot burner.
"Good morning," he said simply, smiling at the two.
Santana smirked.
Oh, here we go.
"It certainly is... or was, last night of course," she replied, head cocking to the side, giving Blaine a smug look.
"Santana! Don't start!" Rachel protested, leaning toward the other girl threateningly (as a kitten) while glancing shyly back at Blaine.
"It's okay, Rachel."
The brunette pouted, "No, it's not! You shouldn't have to—"
"Shut up, Hobbit! Other Hobbit was just about to spill some beans!" Santana's grin grew, "Or a substance that is a little more white? I imagine?"
"Santana!" Rachel exclaimed, eyes wide; but as she realized the other girl was not going to stop, she gave Blaine an apologetic look before she raced back to the safety of her curtain and "Barbra Mix" play-list.
But Blaine was a lot wittier than Rachel gave him credit for, he did not date Kurt for nearly three years without picking up and learning how to be just as catty. Santana may be more skilled than Blaine, maybe even more than Kurt, but the curly-haired teen was prepared to at least hold his own against her. Besides, even if she would never go easy on anyone, Blaine had just made her breakfast so she might just ease into her normal self rather than threshold with the first jab.
Her smirk and the way her eyes racked over his body (which he successfully hid the shutter from), said otherwise. "So I heard he said 'Yes' last night," Santana said a little louder than necessary, glancing over to Blaine and Kurt's shared part of the loft.
He returned her smirk, "He said 'Yes' a lot last night—" Pause for affect and—"Oh, wait. What are we talking about?"
The Latina's eyes widened in surprise when they snapped back over to him before a barked laugh escaped her lips, "Damn, Blanderson! Getting Lady Lips over there to the point of incoherent speech... nice!" Santana leaned forward onto her elbows, running her gaze over Blaine again, "Me likey."
Clearly the woman was trying to make him show how uncomfortable he was with being looked at that way (by anyone other than Kurt. He was still firmly in belief that Kurt was far better looking than him and did not understand how someone could really find him attractive. He had a few body issues that he needed to work through, and Kurt had helped, seeing as how he did not squirm as much as flourish under those heated blue eyes, but Blaine had a way to go with other people looking at him in any form of interest—especially girls.). Luckily, Blaine had a pretty firm grip on his poker-face this morning and just shrugged, "You'll never know."
She rolled her eyes with a huff, "Damn straight."
Blaine laughed, keeping up with his fake bravado, "It's probably a good thing that I'm gay, women would never be able to keep up."
"So not true!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger right at him, "I'll have you know dat I've gone five rounds with a girl and she still had the strength to walk out of the hotel room. 'Only an experiment,' she said, but we ended up hooking up three more times!" She snapped her fingers and tapped the finger she had been pointing at him against her lips, "Dat reminds me, I need to give Quinn a call and see when she's coming to visit next."
Honey-gold eyes widened in shock before his mouth dropped open to say something and was interrupted by his text message alert on his phone. He reached over to it, the curiosity of who would be texting this early greater than his need to comment on Santana's bit of information.
Blaine smiled down at his phone as he read the message, reading it aloud for Santana to hear. "Kurt says: 'None of us do anything straight anymore, Satan. I was sure you had grown out of the dull phase of your life.'"
"Really, Hummelina?" The Latina turned and shouted out into the apartment, "You can't come here and say dat to my face?!"
It took a few seconds for the young man to respond, but Blaine's text alert went off again only to make Santana glare. "Kurt says: 'Je suis le vain queer'—Wait, that's not right."
The young woman gave him a confused look, "What the hell does that mean?"
"Um," Blaine blinked down at his phone screen and worked through the translation but it all came down to the same thing, "Roughly: 'I'm queer vain.' But I'm sure that's not right." Blaine typed back a reply.
To: My Soulmate
I know you are, baby. But what does that have to do with anything?
Je suis perdu.
Not seconds after he finished, another bubble popped up under his own reply and Blaine laughed, "I knew it."
"Knew what," Santana asked impatiently.
Blaine smirked, "Kurt says: 'I meant vainqueur. Je suis le vainqueur. '"
The young woman huffed and gave him a look of exacerbation.
"He meant to say—"
"I'm the winner," Kurt finished for him, coming out from behind their curtained off 'room'. "But I got autocorrected into saying I'm vain and queer... at least for the most part." The taller young man came over and kissed Blaine on the mouth briefly before seating himself next to Santana, "We all know I'm a little vain and a lot more queer, but I also put you in your place. Powned, is the word, I think."
Blaine smiled and hopped off the counter, turning to the fridge to get Kurt's omelet mix, "You're so hot when you talk nerdy."
"Well," Santana said, "since ya phone auto-ed you, it's more like ya on da bottom."
The shorter young man took a sip of his juice while he kept an eye on Kurt's cooking omelet but turn back towards the two conversing just in time to see Kurt smile sassily.
"Oh, being on the bottom is a whole lot of fun, in its own right," the blue-eyed teen paused only enough to glance over at his suddenly coughing boyfriend—fiancé, really. "Blaine is very thorough in... topping."
Blaine turned back to the stove when Santana's eyes settled on him, ignoring any further conversation, comments on his butt, what he is like when he bottoms, how often they switch roles—even more topics all ignored as he finished Kurt's omelet and quickly moves back to their room to hide under their sheets. Allowing himself to finally feel the embarrassment that he had been staving off all morning.
The mattress dipped and shifted as someone crawled onto the bed, settling near Blaine's covered head.
"B," Kurt said gently, "I'm sorry I embarrassed you."
Blaine just shrugged.
"Je t'aime."
He smiled, "I love you too."
"Je t'adore."
"You'd better."
"Je te désire."
Blaine pulled the blanket from over his head, "I'd make you bottom but I wouldn't want the girls hearing you say 'Yes' so many times again."
Kurt laughed and bent down to press his lips to Blaine's. They shared soft, lazy kisses while they lay against one another—quietly waiting for their two roommates to leave for the day.
A/N: Well, I hope that was not too terrible. Again, if any phrases I have here are incorrect, please let me know so that I can changed them.
Translations:
Je suis perdu - I'm confused.
Je t'adore - I adore you.
Je te désire - I desire you.
Well, that's it for now. I hope you enjoyed and I thank you all for your continued interest in these tangents of mine. I might even do another direct follow up... we'll see.
Until next time,
Anjel Starlight
