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"Morning After" -- Kurt and Blaine wake up on the anniversary of the day they met.
“Morning After”, R, 4,500 words. By EmilianaDarling.
I’ve never done headcanon fic before, but this just poured out of me in the hours leading up to the airing of ‘The First Time’. And because we have yet to see the actual episode yet, I thought I’d post it before the mood or tone gets jossed by the episode. Apologies for any roughness around the edges due to the time limit. <3 Enjoy!
ETA: The episode has now aired, and this is my edited, cleaned up, and expanded version of this story. Now 1,500 words longer and episode accurate~!
When Kurt starts to drift awake, it’s only partially due to the feeling of the sun’s slow light creeping across his cheeks and eyelids. Making them flutter and twitch, making him shy his face away from the morning brightness. No; far more than that, it’s because shifting to press his face sleepily into the pillow makes him suddenly and profoundly awareof the solid, warm presence wrapped around his back; of the heavy pressure draped across his waist. The steady little hints of another person’s breath tickling and teasing along shell of his ear, its rhythmic inhale-exhale still deep and calm with the steadiness of sleep.
And the smell of Blaine, spicy and masculine and soft from sleep and all around him. Woven into the threads of the blankets and along his very skin, that bone-deep familiar blend deodorant and hair gel and just… Blaine, underneath it all. The hinting nudging tantalizing way Blaine smells, at the crook of his neck and the backs of his knees and when he sweats and when he’s clean, so perfectly him all the time and Kurt could live in that smell for the rest of his life and be happy. He inhales it in deep, letting out a little content sigh and snuggling back against his boyfriend’s warmth without questioning why this is happening. The sleepiness, combined with the odd feeling of having another person in bed with him distracts him for a few hazy seconds. Keeps him trapped within the half-world between asleep and awake, drifting.
It’s only when Blaine murmurs something drowsy and unintelligible, gently tightening his arm where it’s wrapped around Kurt’s waist, pressing his face into the back of his neck that Kurt realizes why, exactly, he and Blaine are lying in bed together.
His whole body tenses in immediate awareness at the realization, eyes flying open at the sudden importance of the two of them here together like this, and Kurt realizes that they aren’t in his room. The walls are dark and green and a quick glance down at the sheets (trying hard not to startle or move too much because Blaine is right there behind him, can probably feel everything) proves with their dark neutral tones that, yes. This is Blaine’s bedroom. This is Blaine’s bed.
We came back here after the musical, his mind supplies helpfully as it moves toward wakefulness in sudden leaps and bounds. And we talked, and got into bed, and…
At once Kurt can feel the heat rising in his cheeks –but to his shock, it isn’t because of embarrassment. There is a warm, contented sensation uncoiling inside his stomach; spreading up his spine and into his cheeks and making his fingers tingle in a new, excited way. There are little shivers of pleasure twisting along his insides, making a smile tug at the corners of his mouth and making him grin, close-lipped and wide for the empty room to see. His whole body is buzzing with how surreal it all is, with the releasing of pressure inside like a bottle being uncorked that he wasn’t even aware of until this moment. He blinks, not believing how self-aware and surprising and somehow, strangest of all, how right this all feels.
They did… things, last night. Good things. Wonderful things, god. In some corner of his mind, Kurt realizes, he had expected to feel ashamed of this. As though it’s something he should want to hide away, and not look at, and not be proud of. Or he had at least expected to feel different, in some profound way; as though he had lost or gained something special and important during the night.
Kurt… hadn’t liked what had happened after the gay bar. Not one bit. That whole night had been seedy and awful, bugs under his skin, and even the memory of watching Blaine dance with another boy has his hackles tensing, ready to rise. Making the decision to go further than they’d gone before so soon after reconciling, after hearing Blaine say those wonderful things… well. It had been exciting, yes. But also… nervous. Anxious.
More than anything, Kurt had desperately hoped that whatever they did together would be about them, not about that. Not about things that mean nothing, Blaine said it meant nothing, and Blaine would never lie to him. Kurt doesn’t think Blaine knows how to lie to him.
But here, in the slow warmth of the morning with the wonderful smell of his boyfriend like a blanket around him… Kurt slowly realizes that he had nothing to worry about. He looks inward, examining his own feelings as though he’s looking at them under a microscope. He doesn’t feel worried, or nervous, or as though anything truly integral has changed forever. He doesn’t feel as though he lost anything, or as though last night was about anything more than the two of them.
Kurt only feels loved. Cherished, and cared for, and excited with the newness of the things they did together. As though he’s special, and important, and as though both of them have opened themselves up and laid themselves bare in a way that leaves him shivering with the profound intimacy of it. Because they’re still here together in the morning; tucked into one another, Blaine wrapped around him protective and warm and caring, like…
Like a lover.
It isn’t the first time he and Blaine have slept next to each other, and technically it’s not even the first time they’ve shared a bed together overnight. They’ve drifted to sleep next to one another on the couch in both of their living rooms, watching movies and television or listening to music late into the evening. Blaine even slept in his bed after the disastrous house party last year, that night still so much worse in Kurt’s memory than even the gay bar had been. Passed out like a rock and snoring and smelling like gin and tequila while Kurt had glared stony-faced at the ceiling and felt cheated and hurt until he had finally fallen asleep well into the early hours of the morning.
But this… this doesn’t feel anything like that night. Blaine is warm and real and responsive right behind him, reacting to every tiny movement of Kurt’s body in a way he’s never experienced before. His muscled arm slung over Kurt’s middle and hugging him close, like a teddy bear but not, so not, pressed up against him and making little sleepy noises against his neck and for a moment Kurt is so, so incredibly happy that he can feel his eyes begin to tear up. He had assumed that they would drift apart in the night, fall away from each other and retreat to opposite sides of the bed for comfort and space. Waking up with Blaine’s heat pressed up against his back and the feeling of his lips brushing against the back of Kurt’s neck, unaware little burrowing movements pressing them closer and closer… it’s perfect. Something right out of a fantasy, like all the years he dreamed of finding someone like this, and now he can feel the tears begin to prick at his eyes.
He blinks, sniffing hard and trying not to ruin the moment with his stupid crying, but from behind him he begins to feel Blaine stir.
Keep sleeping, Kurt thinks, clutching at Blaine’s arm with a strong grip. Stay like this forever, I love this. I love you.
But as soon as Blaine speaks, every wish to keep him sleeping flies right out of Kurt’s head.
“Hey,” murmurs Blaine, voice husky with sleep in a way that Kurt has never heard before. In a way that makes him fall in love with Blaine all over again, hard and fast and already fallen. “Good morning.” He sounds happy and drowsy and intimate, and Kurt feels Blaine press a kiss to his shoulder, running a hand down Kurt’s arm and making the skin tingle. Blaine squeezes his arm around Kurt’s middle for long seconds, holding him tight and close against him before he pushes himself up and onto one elbow. The movement gives Kurt a little bit more space, and he rolls onto his back. It makes it so that Blaine is pressed up against his side, leaning over him, but this way he can look Blaine – his lover, his lover – in the eye.
And, oh, because Blaine… Blaine has never looked so wonderful, not ever. Couldn’t look this amazing if he had all the designer clothes in the world. He’s smiling sleepily down at Kurt with a happy-abashed-loving smile on those beautiful lips, eyelashes thick and clumped with heavy sleep as he blinks down at him. His tanktop is askew and loose, and Kurt feels a momentary pang for the way they were last night. Unadorned skin and closeness, so much closeness, all the layers pulled away and only each other left. Kurt knows, logically, they could have gone to sleep together naked. They’d seen each other, by that point; there had been nothing really left to hide. But he had awkwardly asked if maybe they could sleep with clothes on, just this once, and Blaine had agreed too-quickly, nodding hard and pressing soft kisses against his neck. And so Blaine has his re-adorned tanktop, and Kurt his t-shirt, and they’re both wearing underwear that they’d had to find from where it had been shoved off the bed at some point during the night before falling asleep.
It’s even better because Blaine’s hair is a complete mess. A lot of the gel has come out in the night; they were too tired to bother with washing it out before going to bed, and it’s curling at the base of his neck. Coming up in handfuls from where it had been slicked down, messy and unkempt, and Kurt feels a ripple of excited, delicious pleasure at the realization that part of the reason Blaine’s hair is so rumpled is because he had spent long stretches last night twining his fingers through it.
I love you, Kurt thinks, blinking hard. I love you, I love you, I love you. No one can come between us and what we have, no one. I won’t let them.
But Kurt is jolted out of the fervent, focused thought by the sudden change of expression on his boyfriend’s face. Blaine’s eyes are widening, eyebrows have drawn together in a worried expression as he stares down at him, and Kurt wonders why before he realizes that he can feel dampness in his eyelashes when he blinks.
“Hey,” says Blaine earnestly, reaching over to wipe one of the tears away. He looks as though he’s trying very hard not to freak out, and Kurt leans into the gentle touch of his finger as it slides beneath his eye. “Kurt, are you okay? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Kurt whispers, voice strangled but not in a bad way like Blaine thinks, shaking his head and smiling and reaching up to slide his hand along the back of Blaine’s neck. “I’m fine, I’m good, I’m – I’m perfect, Blaine. So perfect. Just… come here.”
He tries to pull Blaine down for a kiss, but his boyfriend is already obliging him. Moving down and leaning in to gently press their mouths together, and – oh, ew. They both have morning breath.
“Mmf!” says Kurt unintelligibly against Blaine’s lips, trying to shove him away with both hands. Blaine blinks, looking confused. “Blaine, no, I’m gross, you don’t want to –”
“You’re not gross,” says Blaine simply, shaking his head. There’s a hint of an amused smile creeping over his face. Kurt raises his eyebrows doubtfully, and Blaine laughs out loud. “You’re not gross, Kurt. You’re beautiful.”
“That’s nice, sweetie, but my breath disagrees with you,” Kurt deadpans, but Blaine goes in for another kiss anyways. Kurt manages to get a hand up in front of his mouth just in time, and Blaine just kisses it in response. Over and over in small, not-so-quick presses against the back of his hand, his knuckles, his wrist. Blaine holds eye contact with him the whole time as his lips skim over skin, warm and soft, his eyes heavily lidded and lashes impossibly long. The look in his eyes makes Kurt feel slightly weak-kneed and very, very glad that they’re both lying down, but he refuses to let himself get distracted. “How’s about we both go and brush up, and then –”
But the rest of that sentence is cut off with a little squeal of surprise as Blaine leans in, grabs Kurt by the hips, and flips them so that he is lying on his back and Kurt is pressed right on top of him with his hands on either side of Blaine’s face.
And oh, wow, okay, this time Kurt does blush partly out of embarrassment. Because he distinctly remembers a large portion of the night taking place very much along this line; Kurt, sprawled on top with his weight pressing Blaine down, sliding their bodies together in a slip of sweat and skin and friction. Letting out little breathy gasps that got higher and higher as Blaine groaned, his hands clenching and unclenching uselessly on Kurt’s back as they moved, and kissed, and finally got to touch. So many things that had been off-limits for so long suddenly being right there, all at once, and it had been overwhelming in the best possible way. So many firsts, all at once. Seeing Blaine’s cock for the first time, both of them nervous and Blaine looking so vulnerable, running his eyes over it in quiet astonishment and comparing all the tiny ways that it differs from his own. Getting to touch, being touched; the way Kurt had trembled and clung to Blaine like the world was ending as a hand not his own brought him closer and closer to the edge for the very first time. The way Blaine’s face had looked when he’d come.
Some of the other noises Kurt had made are starting to come back to him, too, and oh, god. Kurt really, really hopes Blaine actually thought those were sexy and not just weird, because they had sounded good at the time, but now? Now they just sound more than a little bit stupid and exposed and pornographic as they replay in his head.
“You’re not gross,” Blaine informs him mock-sternly, reaching up to poke him on the nose. Kurt lets out a little snort of breath at that, regaining his mental balance as the memories from last night pull at his mind.
Without any warning, however, an uncertain expression steals over Blaine’s face beneath him. Fidgeting, Blaine bites down on his lower lip. Kurt is just about to ask what’s wrong when Blaine reaches up, inhales a slow breath – and cups the side of Kurt’s face, sliding his thumb over the skin there. It feels almost reverent, the way his eyes are burning into Kurt’s. As though he’s in awe for some reason that Kurt doesn’t quite understand.
“Thank you,” Blaine whispers, voice small and frail with a tiny hitch to the words. He licks his lips, thumb still ghosting over the skin of Kurt’s cheek. Kurt blinks, tilting his head to lean it into the touch.
“For what?” Kurt asks quietly, feeling as though he’s lost track of the conversation somewhere. He puts the memories from last night aside for a moment, to look at later and turn over in his mind and revisit. He stares down at his boyfriend curiously, his whole body rising and falling slightly as Blaine breathes in and out.
“For… being you,” says Blaine sincerely, shrugging his shoulders and looking a little overwhelmed. “For… being here. With me, like this. It was… I was such a dick, the other day. I should have stopped right when you asked, but I was stupid and posturing and oblivious and…and I don’t deserve this. You, being you. With me.”
Kurt feels his eyebrows furrowing together. “Don’t say that,” he says, shaking his head. “Blaine, I’ve… been thinking about this for a while now, you know I have. The other night just… well.” He lets out a little huff of air, suddenly very aware that they’re having this conversation with him on top of Blaine. That’s… new, that level of casualness about physicality. He likes it. “The other night just made me realize that what I wanted didn’t involve the backseat of a car in a truly abominable gay bar’s parking lot.” He shrugs, the movement tiny and awkward from this position. “I… wanted you. To be with you. And I wanted it on my own terms, so… here we are.”
“Here we are,” Blaine breathes out, looking relieved. Before Kurt can examine that emotion too closely, however, Blaine leaning up in another attempt to kiss him on the mouth.
“I’m gross,” Kurt murmurs quietly, shifting his head just in time so Blaine only catches the corner of his mouth. His breath is hot and a little bit ragged against Kurt’s cheek.
“You could never be gross,” says Blaine quietly, pressing his lips against Kurt’s cheek before pulling back to look him in the eye. “Or, failing that, we’re both gross. But either way, it still means I can kiss you.” Suddenly, despite the macho flipping-him-over thing and the confident declaration, Blaine looks very much nervous. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, hazel eyes liquid and looking suddenly very small, and Kurt doesn’t even hesitate before making an exaggerated ‘oh, fine’ gesture and leaning down to kiss his boyfriend on the lips.
It’s… okay, it’s a bit weird at first, kissing with morning breath. Kurt frowns into it, nervous to do anything with his tongue or do any more than essentially press his lips against Blaine in a decidedly chaste manner, but before too long Blaine is arching up into him and opening his mouth and oh, yep, that’s even weirder. Their mouths slide together in a warm, thick way that’s so unfamiliar. But the taste – not bad, per se, but weird and personal in a ridiculous way – starts to fade after a few seconds, and suddenly it’s just Kurt and Blaine, KurtandBlaine, all one word without any separation, not after last night, kissing and pressing and being together in a way that makes Kurt feel as though his chest is expanding outwards.
It’s slow, and sweet, and it doesn’t say anything they didn’t already say last night. Just I’m here and I love you and one hand, one heart and I never want anyone to have this from you but me.
They kiss, and slide together, and he feels something hard and noticeable against Blaine’s hip. His body recognizes the touch, and wants, and moves. Instinctively, without fully realizing what he’s doing, Kurt sighs into it and grinds his hips down lazily against Blaine’s. For a split second, he’s horribly embarrassed – before realizing that they can do this now. It’s okay, now. It’s fine.
Blaine definitely thinks it’s fine, too, because he groans into Kurt’s mouth and presses his own hips right back into the touch, a hand coming down to rest on Kurt’s ass in a way that makes his feat heat up with illicit pleasure. Dragging themselves together in a quiet grind of heat that sends sparks of pleasure up and down Kurt’s spine. Breathing in the same air and pressing so close, so right.
There isn’t any desperation to this, though. No hardfastnow that everyone is always talking about with teens who do these things, like it’s a bad thing that should be punished and condemned. This… this is just the sweet closeness of the two of them, being together, making one another feel good. It’s not scary, like this. It is world altering, and yet… it really isn’t. This is just slow and drawn-out and comfortable; easy in all the right ways. There is nothing difficult about this.
It makes Kurt shiver, how incredibly intimate it feels to be with Blaine in this way. No restraints, not anymore. No holding back, or waiting. Just… being with each other.
No regrets. Just love.
When they finally pull away, Blaine grins up at him and presses a final kiss against his mouth; Kurt can feel the lines of Blaine’s smile pressing against his lips.
“Love you,” says Blaine when he pulls away, shaking his head and letting out a breath. “God, Kurt, I love you so much. I’m so lucky, you don’t even know.”
“We’re so lucky,” murmurs Kurt quietly, rubbing their noses together in a way that should be childish but isn’t somehow. “You were so good last night,” he sighs, remembering watching Blaine and Rachel from back stage. The way they had looked at each other and sung in a way that had made him ache, and bite his lip, and just want everything to be okay between the two of them again.
He pulls himself out of the memory just in time to catch the expression on Blaine’s face. A little bit taken aback but self-satisfied, a little devious grin pulling at his lips and –
“Not like that!” Kurt rushes to clarify, and Blaine’s falls. He looks very much like a kicked puppy underneath him. “I mean, yes, like that, but I meant – on stage. In the show. You were… you were so good, Blaine. The perfect Tony, just like I knew you were going to be.”
“Oh!” Blaine exclaims, the grin back in full force. “Mmm, thank you, Mr. Scene Stealer,” he hums, trailing his hands down Kurt’s sides and making a face that’s obviously supposed to be sexy but comes off looking a little more exuberant than he’s probably intending. Kurt laughs out loud, and when he starts to disentangle them and roll away Blaine lets out a small, pitiful noise of disappointment.
“Oh, come on,” says Kurt, rolling his eyes as he slides his legs out of the covers. Blaine’s going to see him – in full morning light – with just a t-shirt and boxers, but… Kurt can’t really care. He wants to do everything, with Blaine. Wants to know everything. And this… this is just the beginning. “We have to get up sometime. Lazy.”
“I’m not!” protests Blaine adamantly, and Kurt is chuckling to himself when his eyes fall on the date on Blaine’s alarm clock.
And all at once, his breath catches in his throat. Whole body tensing as he stares at the little red on black numbers glowing on the screen.
NOV 9, 2011.
“What is it?” Blaine asks, crawling over to his side of the bed with a curious tone in his voice. Kurt quickly does the mental mathematics – doesn’t want to say this and have it not be true. Because that would be silly, getting worked up about nothing. But he checks, and quickly re-checks to be sure, and…
“Today is exactly one year since the day we met,” says Kurt softly, staring at the numbers with disbelieving eyes, and Blaine goes very quiet beside them.
For a long moment, the two of them stare at the clock. Reverently, in silence, because there is something so very sacred about those little tiny numbers for this single moment in time.
“It’s…” says Kurt, trailing off weakly and feeling lost at sea and frustrated for himself for a moment. Because this is special; Kurt has always been one to hold both firsts as well as important time markers close to his heart, to hold them in his hands and know that they’re special. He feels strangely cheated that he’s only realizing the importance of the date today; wishes he could say that he planned the intimacy of last night around it, but he didn’t. “I should have remembered. I don’t know why I didn’t remember, I usually think about these things. I knew it was coming up, but…”
“Kurt,” says Blaine quietly, voice warm and calming and full of love, telling him without saying anything else that it’s okay, it’s fine, he doesn’t have to get worried about it. And Kurt feels his body relax, loosening and unclenching as a solid arms wraps around his waist from behind. Feels the soft press of a kiss against his cheek, and leans back into the wonderful warmth that is Blaine and breathes. “It’s been a good year,” says Blaine, chest rumbles with the noise that Kurt can feel against his back.
“It has,” says Kurt, closing his eyes in delight. Because everything with Sebastian may have been awful, it’s true, and Kurt hates that boy more than is truly rational or sane. He hates the fact that other people see Blaine the same way he does, want him the same way he does. The two of them had their biggest fight ever just this week, had been on the wrong page and lashed out and reacted to things so much worse than they had to. This school year has been awful in some ways, full of failure and humiliation, and last year wasn’t really technically any better, but…
He has Blaine. He’s with Blaine, he’s been with Blaine. And somehow, that makes the bad things receded and the good things stand out even better, sharper, in Kurt’s mind. Being with his friends for one last year, being here with Blaine with a whole future in front of them. The end of childhood, and the end of being young, except he doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop being young while he’s with Blaine.
“Happy anniversary,” Blaine smiles against his neck, and Kurt scoffs.
“It’s doesn’t work that way,” he says, rolling his eyes and trying to turn around in the embrace so that Blaine can see him doing it. “Our anniversary is March 15th, you know tha – ohmygod Blaine. Blaine – Blaine, no! No stop it, oh my god,” he squeals, because Blaine has retaliated by digging his fingers are into his sides and hips in all of his ticklish spots, leaving him panting and breathless and almost crying with laughter as he tries to squirm away.
And they’re laughing, they’re both laughing, falling back onto the bed in what degenerates into an all-out tickle fight. Blaine might be a bit more compact, it’s true, but Kurt is taller and has wicked upper body strength, and it’s a fairly even match as they roll and scrabble and buck under one another in a fight that’s mostly playful, and a little bit more than that, and when Kurt finally manages to pin Blaine down and tickle him so hard he begs for mercy he lets out a triumphant little caw of laughter that makes Blaine burst into helpless giggles for a whole other reason, wheezing hard and gasping and flailing underneath him.
This is everything Kurt thought his first morning after would be, and everything it’s not. When he finally lets Blaine go, his boyfriend gasps in air like he’s dying before kissing him breathlessly with his sticky morning breath mouth. Fingers running up and down Kurt’s sides in a way that is the farthest thing from trying to tickle anymore, the both of them grinning and laughing as they lean back into each other.
Kurt doesn’t stop smiling for the whole rest of the morning.
This is also available to read at my journal. <3