Splendid Silent Sun
A little addition to the Married Life ‘verse. A quiet, lazy morning.
A car alarm goes off every Sunday morning at five, as predicable as a rooster and just as obnoxious. Blaine doesn’t know who it belongs to, where they’re going this early on a Sunday, or why they can’t seem to remember that their car has an alarm system. But he does know that Kurt will snuffle and grunt and shove his face under his pillow. He’ll try to ignore it. He’ll grunt louder. Finally he’ll peek his head from beneath the pillow, hair askew and face crease-lined, and with one eye squeezed shut one very reluctantly opened will shout, “Oh my god, shut up!”
The alarm will go off—though it has nothing to do with Kurt’s indignant, sleepy shouting at the closed window—and they’ll both go back to sleep. Every Sunday morning.
Blaine always wakes first. He’s a big believer in healthy sleep habits, so he’s in bed at a reasonable time (usually) and awake at the same time (just about.) If he doesn’t have an early class to get to or a piano lesson to give, he still gets up. It gives him time to practice or compose or polish up an essay, and cook breakfast for Kurt (sometimes.) Their mornings tend to be busy; a well-coordinated dance by now, weaving in and out and around each other in the bedroom and kitchen and bathroom and tiny hall closet; minty kisses and coats halfway on and don’t forget to stop by the bank!
A text from Kurt later: Forgot to tell you I love you. I love you. Blaine will send back a heart or love-struck emoji, because he knows now without Kurt telling him, but he’s so grateful that Kurt takes to the time to remind him anyway, even when their lives are a cyclone of chaos. Especially then.