Prompt December 5th: Evening
Some surprises are better than other surprises, and when Blaine all but fell into his trailer after a long night of shooting, he was suddenly struck with an inability to articulate anything at the sight of Kurt draped leisurely across his couch, reading his script and sipping a coffee.
When you're filming in Hollywood, with the knowledge that your husband is working in New York, it can happen.
"I missed you," Kurt smiles in way of greeting, and gets up. Blaine isn't exaggerating when he almost collapses against his husband's sturdy body, and lets him hold him close, hold him tight, hold him.
"I love you," Blaine murmurs, because that he can say, always.
"Do you want to grab some breakfast, or do you want to sleep?" Kurt must have read his schedule, and seen that they filmed all night to get the right light and atmosphere for one of the big combat scenes. His body aches, even stage combat is exhausting after hours of running across a beach in a gang brawl.
He should try to stay awake, when his lovely husband flew out just to see him. But even his eyes ache.
"Coffee," Blaine decides on. It might help him enjoy a few hours with Kurt before he collapses. Fortunately, he has no filming today.
Wordlessly, Kurt hands him the rest of his coffee. It's a start.
They must look like quite the couple as they walk to the parking lot. Despite the flight, Kurt is walking with a spring to his steps, looking effortlessly chic in Blaine's favourite purple jeans, a black short-sleeved shirt open at the collar, a lovely broche, and sunglasses perched on top of his perfectly styled hair. He's draped his arm supportingly around Blaine's waist, who is dragging his feet towards his car, stubble scratching his wrist each time he takes a sip of Kurt's coffee, he fears he may have panda eyes after all the sweating, he has sand literally everywhere, and the yoga pants aren't meant for the public eye. It would be just his luck if they ran into the paparazzi today. Blaine doesn't consider himself a celebrity, but apparently his name has gotten some attention lately, especially after he accepted to take a break from Broadway to be Tony in a modernized film adaption of West Side Story.
He must have fallen asleep in the car, because he startles at the sound of the hotel's noisy garage, and how did he get here? Kurt opens the car door for him, and leads him to the elevator. It's so late in the morning that the breakfast rush is past them, and they can walk unseen to Blaine's hotel room.
"There's so much I'd like to do with you right now," Blaine murmurs heavily, and kisses Kurt's jaw.
"And I'd like to know why you have an evening gown on your bathroom door."
Blaine sighs, and rests his forehead against Kurt's chest.
"I'm not cheating on you with a girl," he sags tiredly.
"It didn't even cross my mind. But I'm wondering if you've taken up cross-dressing?" Kurt teases playfully, and runs a hand through his hair.
"There's this champagne and fancy finger food-event tonight, and an overzealous designer sent me the gown for my assumed date. Something about getting her name out there, bribing someone into wearing her on the red carpet, I guess."
Kurt kisses Blaine's forehead before letting go of him, and studies the dress critically.
"It's actually well executed. Not the most exciting design, but the right accessory could take it there. I do have the legs for that kind of split," he muses.
"Kurt, I know we're living the lives of our dreams, with performance highs, red carpet-events, fancy clothes, expensive champagne and admiration from crazy fans. And I would have gone to this thing if I was alone. Not in the evening gown, you clown," he interrupts himself when Kurt chuckles and looks pointedly between the dress and his husband. "But would you mind terribly much if we stayed in tonight, order sushi, find some bad porn on the pay-per-view and then prove how we are so much better at sex than the actors?"
"Take a shower with me, then we can nap, before putting your plans into reality."
"I love how you can fly across the country, and reject a glamorous occasion in favour of sleeping with me."
"I like sleeping with you. I'm awfully lonely in our bed back home. I also like sleeping with you," Kurt whispers hotly in his air. "And tomorrow you should email the poor designer and explain how your date prefers kilts."