*** Hate My Life ***
Kurt stood in the shower with his hands pressed against the wall, the water pouring over his head and dripping off his face. He muttered under his breath, "Why? Why me? Why today? Ugh…" He smacked his forehead into the wall between his hands a few times, not enough to hurt but enough to make him feel a little bit better. There was so much pent up rage inside him, and he needed a release.
He heard the water in the shower of the next apartment click on just then, and he frowned. "That's new," he muttered to himself. Then, he rolled his eyes. Of course. His landlord had said the next door apartment was getting a new tenant today.
"I hope they don't have any dumb habits like running their vaccum at three o'clock in the morning or an annoying ass cat that meows the second they leave. God, my last neighbor was the worst."
With a glare, Kurt eyed his body wash. He knew he really should soap up and get out, but he didn't want to. He was feeling so angry still, and he just needed to get it out of him somehow. An idea popped into his head, and he immediately pulled the shower curtain back, reaching for his phone that was sitting on the nearby countertop.
He quickly pulled up YouTube, navigating to the video he wanted. Just as he was about to press play, something stopped him. His thumb hovered over the screen. "What if they hate this song or are extremely offended by vulgar language? Ah, fuck it. I don't care. I'm pissed off, and I know this song will make me feel better." So, he pressed play, checked that his volume was all the way up, set the phone back down, and pulled the curtain closed again.
"So sick of the hobos
Always beggin' for change
I don't like how I gotta work
And they just sit around and get paid
I hate all of the people
Who can't drive their cars
Bitch you better get out of the way
Before I, start falling apart
I hate how my wife
Is always up my ass
She always wants to buy brand new things
But I, don't have the cash"
Kurt sang at the top of his lungs, images of his asshole boss at the café telling him that he was cutting his hours because he wasn't a girl and couldn't get as many tips as the rest of his staff could. He saw his co-worker, Rachel fucking Berry, smirking at him from around the corner as he left the boss's office. He saw himself slamming down his apron and walking out, announcing that he'd quit. And he saw the surprised look on his boss's face as he peeled out of the parking lot and zoomed home.
As the chorus came on, Kurt could hear the voice of his new next door neighbor join in, a smooth-as-honey tenor seeping through the thin wall.
"Well I hate my job, all of my rich friends
I hate everyone to the bitter end
Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight
I hate my life
How come I never get laid?
Nice guys always lose
How could she have another headache?
There's always some kind of excuse
I still hate my job
My boss is a dick
I don't get paid nearly enough
To put up with all of his shit"
Kurt smirked to himself, already feeling better. He'd quit his job, flipped the bird to Rachel as he left, and ignored three calls from his ex-boss already. Had his day been shit? Hell yeah, it had been. Was it getting better? Yeah. Slowly but surely, note by note, it was.
He geared up for the next chorus, grabbing his body wash and beginning to lather himself up. Damn, that dude's voice is sexy, he thought to himself, his cock stirring with interest. Wonder if…
"Well I hate my job, all of my rich friends
I hate everyone to the bitter end
Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight
I hate my life
I hate that I can't tell
When a girl's underage
And how when I tell her she's a nice piece of ass
Then her daddy punches me in the face
So if you're pissed like me
Bitches here's what you've gotta do
Put your middle fingers up in the air
Go on and say 'fuck you'"
When the song said, "Fuck you," Kurt yelled it at the top of his lungs, sticking up his middle finger as he did. For some reason, as stupid as it sounded, he felt immeasurably better. He could hear the person on the other side of the wall chuckling before he joined back in with the next chorus, finishing out the song.
"Well I hate my job, all of my rich friends
I hate everyone to the bitter end
Nothing turns out right, there's no end in sight
I hate my life
So much at stake
Can't catch a break
I hate my life
Now there's nothing new
And it sucks to be you
I fucking hate my life"
Finally finished washing up, Kurt shut off the water and reached for his towel, starting the song over as he tousled the towel through his hair and whisked the water droplets off of his body. He figured that once more through with the song, and he'd be feeling healed and better than he'd felt in a long time. He was sad that, as the song started up again, he could no longer hear the stranger next door singing. The shower was still running, though, as he started his skin care routine.
About 45 minutes later, Kurt walked out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed and much, much better than he had when he'd gotten in. He was wearing comfortable pajama pants and a graphic tee, and he padded toward the kitchen to grab himself some ice cream before collapsing on the couch with a mindless sitcom. As he did, he noticed a piece of paper lying on the floor just inside the door.
"What's this?" he mused, walking over and picking it up. On the other side of the paper were a bunch of words written in bold, black Sharpie.
"Dear new neighbor,
I'm sorry to hear that you hate everyone. I'm not sure what's happening in your life, but I have peppermint tea and sugar cookies over here. I just went to the grocery store, so they're fresh. As long as you can find it within yourself not to hate me, of course.
I thought you should know that I loved your voice. I've never heard anything like it. It's positively wonderful. I hope you didn't mind an impromptu duet partner.
I also hope that you can get a new boss and girlfriend/wife (Are you actually married? The landlord told me my neighbor was a single gay man. I kinda hope you're not married, because I was hoping to have another fabulous man to hang out with right next door and show me the best gay bars in town).
Seriously, though, if you need to talk, come knock. I'm happy to listen.
Your new neighbor,
Blaine"
"Huh…" Kurt mumbled, setting the letter down on the counter as he pondered the letter. "Maybe this day just got a whole lot better…"
*** One Less Day ***
Two weeks later, Blaine was descending the stairs to the bottom floor just as Kurt was about to head up.
It had been a long day, but he'd finally managed to find another job, and he had just under a week of freedom before he started again. Sure, he was a server at another New York restaurant, but this one paid more and agreed that his last boss was an ass. It was a step in the right direction, and he'd take it.
Kurt didn't even notice the cute boy until they both ended up at the long wall of mailboxes, shoulder to shoulder, their hands reaching for their locks at the same time.
Turning, Kurt took in the olive skin, dark and curled hair, and cutely compact stature of the man next to him. His yellow and black button-down had a name tag attached to it that read, "Blaine." He sucked in a breath, the air sinking into his lungs with a gasp.
At the sound, Blaine turned to look at him. For a moment, he had no idea who the adorable, pale, blue-eyed stranger could be until he realized his hand was on the next door apartment's mailbox. He, too, gasped, his eyes filling with recognition that he must be seeing Kurt.
For a moment, both of them looked like fish out of water. Their mouths opened and closed like they wanted to speak but couldn't; they were gaping at one another, no words or sounds escaping their suddenly dry lips and parched throats. It was as if the other's gaze was the blazing sun in the Sahara Desert, and they were mesmerized by the quavering lines of the apparitions their minds were conjuring for them. Except the confused expression being reflected at them was very, very real.
After a few moments, Blaine glanced at the watch on his wrist. He was going to be late if he didn't get a move on. Now. Turning back to his mailbox, he quickly twisted the key in the lock, opened the door, pulled out the stack of envelopes, and shut it again with a noisy bang, turning and walking out the front door without a word to Kurt.
Kurt didn't even know what to do. He just watched him go, wishing he'd had the courage to say something instead of staring like he'd done, too mesmerized to have coherent thoughts or operate his mouth.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Kurt soon arrived at his fifth-floor apartment. He unlocked the door and waltzed in, feeling amazing. "Blaine is hot," he whispered to himself. "Like, way hotter than I pictured him. Damn."
Walking into the kitchen, he pulled a water bottle out of the fridge, opening it and immediately chugging down a third of the bottle. The cool water helped to soothe his burning cheeks as he went over and over how he'd stared at the beautiful man next to him, speechless.
Finally, he walked into the living room, collapsing on the couch. "Alexa," he called out, "play One Less Day by Rob Thomas.
"One Less Day (Dying Young) by Rob Thomas on Amazon Music," the robot replied, and the song began to float through his speaker.
"I'm not afraid of getting older
I'm one less day from dying young
I see the light go past my shoulder
I'm one less day from dying young
I see my life
Like a train with a one-way track
I've made mistakes
And I couldn't take 'em back
And I've been runnin' 'round in circles
'Til I'm dizzy, I can't lie
But every night I go to sleep's
A day that I survive
I'm not afraid of getting older
I'm one less day from dying young
I see the light go past my shoulder
I'm one less day from dying young"
He listened to the words, considering them. He'd always loved this song, but how did it fit his mood? He didn't know. It had just felt right to play it, and as he absorbed the words, he realized that, as strange as it seemed, seeing Blaine at the mailbox had made him feel new, like he was setting off on some new adventure that he didn't understand yet. Yes, he was getting older. His 30th birthday was just around the corner, and he'd had yet to have much in the way of a serious, long-term relationship. Was Blaine the answer to his quest for a love for the ages? He didn't know, but the insecurity he'd so recently felt about it was dissipating as he sat on the couch, considering the Rob Thomas lyrics.
"If only we'd spoken," he mumbled to himself. "I don't even have his number. We can't talk." Then, he remembered how Blaine had communicated with him a few weeks before. "That's it! A letter!"
Jumping up from the couch as the next verse and chorus played, Kurt fished through his desk for paper and a Sharpie. Then, he started writing.
"And I've seen my friends
Fall away before their time
And I've been afraid
That I may follow in their light
So I drink and love and whisper
All the things I know are right
Someday, I will leave this world
But maybe not tonight
I'm not afraid of getting older
I'm one less day from dying young
I see the light go past my shoulder
I'm one less day from dying young
I'm one less day from dying young (yeah!)"
When Blaine got home late that night, he spotted a folded piece of paper just sticking out from beneath his door. He set his messenger bag down and used the tip of his shoe to pull it out into the hallway before bending, grabbing the piece of paper, and unfolding it.
"Dear Blaine,
Today was a magical day. One look at you was all I needed to realize that you were slowly changing my life. Is this too bold? I don't doubt it, but no one who knows me would tell you that I'm known for beating around the bush.
I should say, before I take you by surprise any further, that I really enjoyed our duet a few weeks ago. You have a lovely voice, and you helped to soothe my anger. Your letter was really sweet as well, and I appreciated the time and effort you put into writing it. Not many people do that anymore, you know. That meant something to me.
I'd love to take you up on your offer for tea and sugar cookies (if you still have some), but I do think I need to do you one better. Will you go out for tea with me? I know this great little place a few blocks from here, and they have some delicious little treats to go along with their tea. It all makes me feel very British. Pinkies up and all that. How about Friday morning? I'll come over and knock on your door around nine o'clock? We can walk down together.
I hope you'll consider my offer. I'd love to get to know you more. You took my breath away this morning, and I have to admit that I'm already smitten.
See you Friday!
Your neighbor,
Kurt"
Blaine clutched the letter to his chest as he exhaled softly, a huge smile spreading across his face. He would certainly be accepting that offer, which meant he would soon be going on a date with New York's most eligible bachelor.
*** Shotgun ***
When Kurt woke up on Saturday morning, he had never felt better. Blaine had accepted his proposal for a date on Friday morning, and they'd wound up spending the entire day together, both of them shirking their responsibilities in favor of spending the day feeling like young lovers.
The connection had been almost instant. When he'd arrived a few steps over at Blaine's front door, they'd been rendered speechless once again upon first sight. They'd managed a few soft hellos eventually before Kurt had offered his hand to Blaine, and they'd walked down the stairs, hand in hand.
Their first stop had been the tea shop, and they'd spent nearly three hours there, sipping on cups of tea with their pinkies out, laughing and giggling. Then, they'd gone for a walk around the neighborhood, taking in the buildings and people watching. Finally hungry around 1:30 that afternoon, they'd stopped at a street vendor's cart for hoagies.
After that, they'd wandered over to Central Park and layed in the grass, staring up at the gently floating clouds and daydreaming about places they'd like to visit, reminiscing about their childhoods, and discussing their dreams and plans for the future. They'd eventually fallen asleep in the warm sun, Blaine's head resting against Kurt's stomach.
When they'd finally awoken again to grumbling tummies, they'd headed off to find a snack. They'd gotten sidetracked, however, when they'd stumbled upon an outdoor swing band concert. They'd both admitted, in hushed giggles, their affinity for 30s and 40s swing, and though the rest of the crowd had been dominated with gray hair and ladies' hosiery, they'd had a wonderful time.
By the time the concert had ended, it had grown dark, and Blaine had taken Kurt to a quiet, romantic restaurant he knew of. They spent their evening sipping wine, feeding one another bites from their plates, and chatting. As the night wound down, they both felt as though they'd known the other one forever. Their day had been so easy, so natural; it hadn't felt like getting to know one another at all, more like a memory.
They'd walked, hand in hand, back to their apartment building, up the stairs, and to their doors. Then, they'd stood in front of the small wall that separated their two doors, just staring at one another for a moment. It had felt like those first few seconds at the mailboxes a few days before, their breath whisked away by the look in the other's eyes. Then, Kurt had leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss against Blaine's cheek and whispering that he'd had a nice time. They'd parted ways after that, going into their own apartments and collapsing on their beds, grins plastered on their faces.
Kurt flung the curtains open, bathing himself and the room in bright morning light. He smiled, every detail of their night flitting through his head. He stretched up onto his tip-toes, grinning widely to himself. "What a perfect day," he mumbled. Then, he headed for the shower.
As he walked in, he heard Blaine's shower click on, too, and the opening bars of a song filtered through the wall.
Leaning over, Kurt turned on his own water. A moment later, the sound of the music increased, and both of them started to sing.
"Homegrown alligator, see you later
Gotta hit the road, gotta hit the road
Something changed in the atmosphere
Architecture unfamiliar
I could get used to this
Time flies by in the yellow and green
Stick around and you'll see what I mean
There's a mountaintop that I'm dreaming of
If you need me you know where I'll be
I'll be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun
Feeling like a someone (someone)
I'll be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun
Feeling like a someone"
Flashes of their conversation from the day before pass through their minds as they get their hair wet, their voices tangling in the space between their two sets of lips.
"...I want to go to Vegas to see Caesar's Palace… Scotland… Florida beaches… London and Paris… A midnight waltz on the Brooklyn Bridge… Dancing in the rain… Walk hand in hand on a dirt road… Slide into bed together…"
"We're south of the Equator, navigator
Gotta hit the road, gotta hit the road
Deep sea diving 'round the clock, bikini bottoms, lager tops
I could get used to this
Time flies by in the yellow and green
Stick around and you'll see what I mean
There's a mountaintop that I'm dreaming of
If you need me you know where I'll be
I'll be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun
Feeling like a someone (someone)
I'll be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun
Feeling like a someone"
Kurt began to massage his shampoo into his hair, his head filled with images of what his future could hold with Blaine in it. It was so much all at once, the desire taking over his body, the pictures in his head, the sound of Blaine's voice surrounding him, the feeling of the hot water cascading down his body. Kurt couldn't even be sure that he was still singing, but he didn't care. "Best Saturday ever…" he whispered.
"We got two in the front (hey)
Two in the back (hey)
Sailing along
And we don't look back (back, back)
Time flies by in the yellow and green
Stick around and you'll see what I mean
There's a mountaintop that I'm dreaming of
If you need me you know where I'll be
I'll be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun
Feeling like a someone (someone)
I'll be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun
Feeling like a someone
I'll be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun
Feeling like a someone (someone)
I'll be riding shotgun underneath the hot sun
Feeling like a someone, a someone, a someone, someone"
The song ended as Kurt rinsed his hair, and Blaine started up something new, something that sounded like Hey, Soul Sister by Train, but he couldn't be sure. He didn't bother to sing. He couldn't. All he wanted to do was think about Blaine and what the future might hold.
A little while later, after the shower, Kurt grabbed another piece of paper from his desk. He and Blaine had been so caught up in spending time together that they'd failed to give one another their phone numbers. He couldn't stand the idea of not talking to him, and there was something deeply romantic to him about continuing to write notes like this, sticking them under each other's doors. So, he scribbled out one quickly.
"Dear Blaine,
I had so much fun yesterday, spending time with you. I felt like I was spending the time with an old friend I'd just realized that I wanted more than a friendship with. I'm comfortable around you, and that's something I've never been more grateful for.
I realized this morning that we never exchanged numbers amongst all the talking and dreaming about our futures we did. So, here's mine. I'd love to be able to text or call with you. I don't want to lose this letter writing that we're doing, though. I like it; it's romantic in its own special way, despite its archaic nature.
419-910-6531
I hope we can go out again, Blaine. I'd love to spend more time with you and see that beautiful smile of yours.
Yours,
Kurt"
Then, he stepped out of his apartment door, slipping the note back under his door. He was just getting settled on the couch with his laptop when his phone dinged with a message that he knew, without even looking, was from Blaine.
*** Standing Outside the Fire ***
Five dates later, Kurt was completely convinced that this was forever. What he and Blaine had was going to last their entire lives, and he couldn't wait to see what their future held. As he lay on his bed, he went back to the night before…
Kurt rapped on Blaine's apartment door, and when it opened a moment later, Blaine was standing there, dressed in a red polo, a black bowtie, black pants that hugged his hips and thighs tightly, and his favorite black and white saddle shoes.
Blaine didn't say anything to him. They'd agreed to this. Instead, he held out two pieces of paper. They were much smaller than the ones they'd been exchanging, but this was also part of the plan.
They'd agreed over texts that they both had something they needed to say to one another, but the words seemed too monumental to easily roll off their tongues. So, they were going to exchange letters face to face before they went out again, just to clear the air.
In his other hand, Blaine held out two Sharpies, offering his open palms toward Kurt with a shy smile, emotions flitting in and out of his eyes like hummingbirds visiting the flower of his soul, coming up with a new nectar with each dip.
Reaching out, Kurt grabbed one slip of paper and a Sharpie. Then, he turned away for a moment, scribbling what he needed to say quickly, Blaine doing the same thing.
Then, they turned back to each other and, at once, turned their papers around so that the other could read what they'd written.
The papers were identical.
"I love you."
Kurt replayed the memory over and over again as he got up, got dressed, and made a cup of tea, carrying it along with his tablet out to his little patio area. As he settled in, he started to sing the first song that popped into his head, matching his mood.
"We call them cool
Those hearts that have no scars to show
The ones that never do let go
And risk it the tables being turned
We call them fools
Who have to dance within the flame
Who chance the sorrow and the shame
That always come with getting burned"
As he sang, Kurt heard the next patio door open, and who should walk out but the man he was pretty sure he could officially call his boyfriend now, though they hadn't discussed labels yet.
Blaine didn't say anything to him, just smiled and slid into one of his own patio chairs, propping his feet up on the railing in front of him. He trained his gaze on the New York City skyline, tracing the edges of the buildings with his eyes slowly.
Kurt stopped singing, preparing to greet Blaine, but the other man picked up the song then.
"But you got to be tough when consumed by desire
'Cause it's not enough just to stand outside the fire
We call them strong
Those who can face this world alone
Who seem to get by on their own
Those who will never take the fall"
Then, their voices joined together in yet another duet, an activity that was quickly becoming the soundtrack to their romance.
"We call them weak
Who are unable to resist
The slightest chance love might exist
And for that forsake it all
They're so hell bent on giving, walking a wire
Convinced it's not living if you stand outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire"
Both of them stood, going to the railing of their balconies that kept them a mere 18 inches apart. They leaned over, clasping hands in the space between the balconies, staring deep into each other's eyes.
Kurt's voice rose out clear and strong, singing all but the last line of the verse, letting Blaine's honey-warm voice take over as he shivered. Their romance was an absolute fire, a burning inferno. Neither of them were standing outside of it. They were both directly in the blaze, being engulfed by it and loving every moment of it.
"There's this love that is burning
Deep in my soul
Constantly yearning to get out of control
Wanting to fly higher and higher
I can't abide standing outside the fire"
Then, they sang together again, their two voices melting together once more, Kurt's high like a flute, Blaine's adding in a well-rounded softness that made it seem as though they should have always been singing together, perfectly complementary to one another.
"Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Standing outside the fire
Life is not tried it is merely survived
If you're standing outside the fire"
When they finished, they stayed at the railing for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. Then, wordlessly, Kurt left, going back inside.
A moment later, Blaine heard a soft knock on his front door. He padded inside, opening the door, and he immediately had his arms full of Kurt, his lips claimed in a searing, burning kiss of perfection.
*** Thunder ***
When Kurt woke up, the bed was empty. It was a few days since their balcony duet, and Kurt had barely been home since then. The only time they'd spent apart was for work, and even then, it hadn't even been for entire shifts as they'd gone to visit one another while they were working.
Glancing at the clock, Kurt was surprised to see that it was already almost 10:30 a.m. The small crack between the curtains revealed that it was cloudy and storming, fitting for how Kurt was feeling.
Blaine had had to leave early that morning to go back to Ohio—who could have predicted that they'd grown up so close to one another without ever finding the other—and he'd left on an early morning flight. Kurt had missed him so much after taking him to the airport that he'd come back into Blaine's apartment, using the key he'd given him, and slept in his bed.
"Blaine…" he sighed aloud. "I already miss you. How am I going to get through the next few days without you?"
He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone, clicking onto Spotify. He chose to have the app curate a playlist for him then sat the phone back down, staring at the ceiling as he reimagined the night before.
Blaine had given him a going away gift, a going away gift with his mouth, his tongue, and his perfect, teasing fingertips. He had drawn Kurt to the edge of his tolerance and pushed him overboard, helping him to cum harder than he ever had in his life.
Remembering how Blaine had fallen gracefully between his legs, taking as much of Kurt's cock as he could into his mouth and sucking a little before looking up at him from under his thick lashes had Kurt's cock filling once more, a moan escaping his lips.
Spotify's first song was Thunder by Imagine Dragons, and though it was an odd choice, it was also the perfect choice, the perfect song for Kurt to replay his memories of the night before to.
Groaning, he pulled his cock out of his boxers and began to stroke himself, slowly at first, his brain settling on a starting point.
"Just a young gun with a quick fuse
I was uptight, wanna let loose
I was dreaming of bigger things and
Wanna leave my own life behind
Not a "Yes sir", not a follower
Fit the box, fit the mold
Have a seat in the foyer, take a number
I was lightning before the thunder"
"Blaine's my lighting. Blaine… Oh, Blaine," Kurt breathed, beginning to stroke a little faster. If he focused, he could feel Blaine's fingertips dancing against his thighs, leaving little trails of fire behind them. He could imagine the feeling of his hot, wet mouth around his cock, his tongue twisting and wrapping around his erection while his teeth grazed him ever so gently, pulling moans and raspy words of need from Kurt's mouth.
"Kids were laughing in my classes
While I was scheming for the masses
Who do you think you are?
Dreaming 'bout being a big star
You say you're basic, you say you're easy
You're always riding in the backseat
Now I'm smiling from the stage while
You were clapping in the nosebleeds"
There was nothing basic or in the box about what Blaine had done to him. Kurt remembered the way he'd moved one hand from his hip to his balls, cupping them and rolling them in his hand expertly as he'd sped up his pulls, his tongue dipping into the slit and circling the head of Kurt's cock for a few strokes before he'd hollowed his cheeks and started to suck vigorously.
Kurt threw his head back further, the precum leaking from the tip of his cock acting as lube, soothing the friction he'd felt when he'd first started as he increased his pace. He hadn't minded, hadn't really noticed if he was being honest. All he'd been able to focus on was the mental images of Blaine and the memory of all the wicked and wonderful things he'd done with his mouth.
"Nnnnngh… Blaine!"
"Thunder, feel the thunder
Lightning and the thunder
Thunder
Thunder, feel the thunder
Lightning and the thunder, thunder
Thunder, feel the thunder
Lightning and the thunder, thunder
Thunder, feel the thunder
Lightning and the thunder, thunder
Thunder, feel the thunder (feel the)
Lightning and the thunder, thunder"
"He's my lightning. My lightning. My… My…" He panted, keeping time with the music. Kurt needed only a few more strokes before he could feel his balls begin to tighten; his release impending, he was pulled to the brink, ready to tip over it. He couldn't do it, though, not before one name was tumbling out of his lips with reverence and love: "Blaine!" Then, he was spilling over his hand, the song continuing in the background while he rode out the waves of his orgasm.
It wasn't nearly as good as the one he'd had the night before, but it did help to ease the ache he was feeling in his heart. "God, I miss you," he whispered when he finally had his breath back. "I love you so much."
When the cum started to dry on his stomach, Kurt got up and went to the bathroom, turning on Blaine's shower and stepping in. He washed with Blaine's shampoo and body wash, loving how comforting it was to be wrapped in his boyfriend's scent.
Then, when he was finished, he raided his boyfriend's closet, pulling on a pair of his pajama pants and a t-shirt that was just a little too tight. Wandering out to the living room, he wrapped himself up on the couch, grabbing the letter Blaine had written for him that morning and left on the counter for him to find when he got back.
"My love,
I know I won't be gone for long, but I'm certain that these few days are going to be excruciating. It has been a blissful few months with you, and I'm so glad that I found you. I can't imagine what my life would be like without you in it, and I hope I never have to find out.
I've left a key with you, and though I know it means the obvious—you can now come and go from my apartment as you please—it also represents something else: the key to my heart. Cheesy? Yes. True? Absolutely. Life with you is a fairytale.
You are the only man I've ever trusted to care for my heart, and you're the only man I want to ever hold the key. I trust you completely, and I love you more fully than I've ever loved anyone else in my life. I never knew that this kind of love was possible, but it only grows deeper and more meaningful each day that I'm with you. You mean more to me than I could ever put into words.
I hope you don't miss me too much, though I know that's like telling someone who's broken their leg that I hope they don't miss walking for a few weeks. I promise I'll be back as quickly as I can be, and we'll spend as much time together as we possibly can. These few days will be torture for me, too, so please don't forget to text and call me. I need to hear your voice and see your perfect face.
I love you so much, Kurt. I'll be home soon.
Love forever,
Your Blainey-Boo"
*** Geronimo ***
Blaine returned home four days later while Kurt was at work. He'd hoped to get in a little bit earlier, before Kurt had to leave, but his flight had been delayed, and there was nothing he could do.
He lugged his heavy bags up the stairs, sighing tiredly when he'd finally set them down outside his apartment door. Unlocking it, he smiled when he saw the bouquet of flowers sitting on the kitchen counter. There was a little card tucked inside of them, and he smiled at the adorable little love note Kurt had written him.
Going back to his bedroom, Blaine quickly unpacked his suitcase, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper and putting his toothbrush and hair gel back into the bathroom. Then, he collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted from travelling.
He didn't know how long he slept, but when he woke up, he felt icky. So, he took off for the bathroom, taking his time doing his business and getting the shower ready to use. As he was stepping under the hot spray, he heard Kurt's apartment door open and close. He must have slept longer than he'd thought.
Blaine fought off the pang of sadness that went through his chest that Kurt hadn't come to see him immediately when he'd gotten home, trying to tell himself that wasn't rational. Besides, he was getting into the shower. There was nothing he could do with Kurt until he was out anyway.
Deciding to turn on a song, Blaine chose Geronimo by Sheppard from one of his playlists before grabbing his shampoo to work into his curls.
"Can you feel it?
Now it's coming back we can steal it
If we bridge this gap
I can see you
Through the curtains of the waterfall
When I lost it
Yeah you held my hand
But I tossed it
Didn't understand
You were waiting
As I dove into the waterfall"
He wondered what Kurt had done while he was gone. Worked, obviously, but had he sat around, missing him? Had he sung songs to himself? Had he written him letters? Had he wished that he'd been able to go with Blaine, to hold him at night and kiss him and tell him how much he loved him? Blaine had.
"So say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Can you feel my love?
Bombs away
Bombs away
Bombs away
Can you feel (my love, my love, my love, my love, my love) my love?
Bombs away
Bombs away
Bombs away
Say Geronimo!"
At the end of the first chorus, Blaine thought he could hear the door to his apartment clicking shut, but he couldn't be sure. He wasn't worried; Kurt was home and knew Blaine was in the shower. He would be listening for any shenanigans that were going on. Blaine returned to what he was doing, tilting his head back under the spray and rinsing the shampoo from his hair, thinking about Kurt.
His mind couldn't help but go back to the night before he'd left, when he'd given Kurt a blowjob that had shattered his boyfriend's expectations, sending him flying into ecstasy. Kurt's moans and pants of need had been enough to push Blaine over the edge, and he'd lain, satiated, in Kurt's arms, untouched. His cock began to stir at the memory, and he sighed, hoping he could get through the shower without needing to take care of himself. He wanted to save that for Kurt.
"Well we rushed it
Moving away too fast
That we crushed it
But it's in the past
We can make this leap
Through the curtains of the waterfall
So say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Say Geronimo!
Can you feel (my love, my love, my love, my love, my love) my love?
Bombs away
Bombs away
Bombs away
Can you feel (my love, my love, my love, my love, my love) my love?
Bombs away
Bombs away
Bombs away"
As Blaine turned to reach for his body wash, he saw the door to his bathroom moving. Had Kurt come to see him? Why was he coming into the bathroom while he was showering? Was he going to…
Blaine waited, not doing anything, his breath caught in his throat while the moments ticked by, and he watched to see what Kurt would do.
"Well I'm just a boy
With a broken toy
All lost and coy
(At the curtains of the waterfall)
So it's here I stand
As a broken man
But I've found my friend
At the curtains of the waterfall
Now I'm falling down
Through the crashing sound
And you've come around
At the curtains of the waterfall
And you rushed to me
And it sets us free
So I fall to my knees
(At the curtains of the waterfall)"
Through the curtain, Blaine could see for sure that it was Kurt out there. He would recognize that long, lithe body anywhere, that perfectly coifed hair. But what was he doing out there?
He waited, hoping Kurt would do something, but when the waiting became too painful, Blaine took action.
Slowly, with trembling fingertips, Blaine moved the curtain aside, peering around the edge. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, and he pushed the curtain further away so as not to block his view, not caring if water splashed onto the floor. He was cognizant of nothing else, not even the beat of the chorus of the song that played on as he stared.
Kurt was naked. He stood there in Blaine's bathroom, posed perfectly, not moving or saying a word. He had the slightest hint of a coy smile on his face, and he just let Blaine stare, his gaze focused on Blaine's eyes. Kurt's hands were clasped in front of him, and between them was a lily—damn it all if Blaine didn't remember reading something in Kurt's adorable love note about Geronimo Lilies. Had that influenced his song choice?—meant to cover his stiff and reaching cock. It did a poor job, but Blaine appreciated the effort nonetheless.
After a moment, Kurt breathed out, "Blaine… You're home… I missed you…"
All Blaine could reply was, "Kurt…"
The next thing he knew, Kurt had abandoned the flower on the floor, getting into the shower with him and claiming him in a kiss that was full of searing need and pent up emotion from their few-day separation. Their hands explored each other as their tongues and lips reunited.
Blaine knew in his heart that this was it. Kurt was his future, and he was never leaving home without him again. He breathed all his love into their kiss, hoping that Kurt could feel every emotion he was sending him. This kiss—Kurt's kiss—was home. My happily ever after.
