kln drbbls

No but what if Blaine calls Kurt in the middle of the night. And Kurt doesn’t pick up the first time because they haven’t been talking since they broke up and he knows that if he hears Blaine’s voice he’s going to lose it. But it rings again and this time Kurt can’t help himself from picking it up.

And Blaine’s on the other end, his voice a bit scratchy and says “I’ve never been good with words. I hope this will tell you how I feel.” The music starts and Kurt’s tearing up at the lyrics because they hit a little too close to home. Come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry / You don’t know how lovely you are / I had to find you, tell you I need you / Tell you I set you apart 

But there’s something different about the way he sounds. He can hear Blaine fine through his phone but there’s a noise outside too. He nearly drops his phone when he rushes to the window.

There’s Blaine, in New York, in front of his apartment. Kurt stands still, phone still pressed to his face while Blaine finishes his song. 

“I came to fix this.”

I bet the Glee kids were just hanging out in the hallways one evening after the last rehearsal, talking about nothing and just wasting time because even though they spend all day together, they hate saying goodbye. In the empty halls Blaine slides in right next to Kurt and rests his head on his shoulder and stays like that for a while, ignoring the crick building in his neck. And even though everyone’s seen how in love the two are, it’s only ever through song or words exchanged in whispers or glances, never through touches. But with Blaine tucked against Kurt’s side and their fingers entwined, sometimes checking out of the conversation just to laugh quietly at something no one else can pinpoint, it’s never been so obvious.

“I can’t do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Blaine.” Kurt tugs Blaine’s hand, leading him in the building.

“I’m going to hyperventilate. This is the single biggest moment of my life!”

Blaine closes his eyes and inhales deeply, and Kurt’s glad he thought to teach him those  meditative breathing exercises. He doesn’t doubt that Blaine actually would hyperventilate. Kurt chuckles to himself as a group of pre-teens walk by, chatting loudly; Blain can go onstage and perform a solo for hundreds of people but this? He’s totally overcome. 

“We’ve been preparing for this for weeks.” Kurt reassures him. “We’re going to go in there, and you’re going to have an amazing experience and the world is going to be a little bit brighter, alright?”

Blaine nods, determined, and slowly opens his eyes. “Right.”

“Good.” He squeezes Blaine’s hand and leads him to the desk. This is Blaine’s chance to shine. He opens his mouth and nothing but a small squeak comes out. Kurt steps in.

“Two tickets to Katy Perry Part of Me, please.”

from the spoiler Kurt and Blaine go to bed without talking

The lights are off by the time Kurt and Blaine trudge up into the apartment, but a sliver of yellow peeks out under Rachel’s bedroom door. Hushed whispers, curt and angry and accusatory seep into the living room and follow Kurt into his bedroom; at least Finn and Rachel are saying something to each other. He and Blaine have been tensely silent the entire way back. Every time he tries to open his mouth, an overwhelming mixture of intense sadness and anger rise up in his throat like bile and he can’t trust himself to say anything without crying and/or yelling. So he says nothing, but he wishes he could tell what Blaine was thinking. His usually expressive face is set into something Kurt can’t read, and it terrifies Kurt that this could be their last night as a couple. He doesn’t want this cold, distant Blaine to be his last memory of their long relationship.

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Klaine AU Friday: Farm!Klaine

The summary for this drabble is the song Hayloft by Mother Mother. You will know.

“Blaine!” Kurt runs from the stable and throws his arms around the boy’s neck in greeting, pulling him in close and peppering his face with kisses. “You’re looking mighty rugged today, you must'a been ridin’.”

Blaine blushes, though the colour barely peeks through the dark tan on his cheeks. He was a city boy, originally, but moved to a farm some ten miles south of Kurt just nine months ago. Kurt had taught him everything he knew about farming; tending the stables, baling hay, taming horses. It was all old hat for Kurt, and he never turned down an excuse to ride over to the Anderson farm and teach him what he could. 

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Dalton!Klaine Kisses (PG-13)

Because my dash is full of Dalton-era Klaine and wow that was a good time, wasn’t it? Here’s me throwing another fic on the pile.

Blaine tugs at the knot of his tie, the slight slide of fabric barely lessening the constricting pressure of the hot air in the room. It was cold, Blaine thought absently, before Kurt had shown up. The air conditioner had been blasting through the room, no doubt tampered with by one of the boarders, and Blaine was tapping his feet as he did his homework, trying to warm up. But then Kurt had knocked, and suddenly the temperature climbed at least fifty degrees.

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Cookie Day

Blaine hums happily to the tune playing from the radio, his hips shaking in time with the synthetic beat. He glances at the page laid out in front of him, and grabs two eggs, cracking them carefully on the side of the bowl and masterfully pouring them into the mixture. Kurt might do most of the cooking, but Blaine’s not completely useless in the kitchen. 

The red apron Kurt bought a few years back is tied around Blaine’s shoulders and waist, splashed with a fine coating of flour. Underneath he wears a black pair of boxer-briefs, Kurt’s favourites. Blaine’s always though clothing stifled his talent, anyways. 

He’s plugging in the electric beaters when Kurt’s pads out of the bedroom, hair dishevelled and sweats clinging dangerously low to his hips. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cookie day!” Blaine yells over the mechanic growl of the mixers. “How could you forget?”

Kurt smirks and leans against the counter, peeking into the bowl. Blaine shoos him away. 

Kurt opens a tall cupboard door and grabs a box of cereal. He shakes it a few times, listening to the meagre rattle inside. “Almost out of cereal,” he sighs, squeezing behind Blaine to add another item to the shopping list. “We need to stop eating. We can’t afford luxuries like food.”

“Well you can put the cereal away, I’ve got breakfast covered.” He’s wielding a spatula now, scooping the batter onto a cooking sheet. 

“I can’t believe, six years later, you’re still doing that.”

“Hey, I keep my promises.” He smiles at Kurt. “As long you’re with me, you’re gonna have to put up with my bi-annual cookies days.”

Kurt glances down at the ring on his hand, not gum wrapping, but silver, inlayed with one diamond. And soon, once they save up the money, another band would join it. 

“Well, you’re stuck with me for good, Blaine Anderson, so you might as well memorize that recipe.”

Facethefall asked: Dalton era Klaine

“Yellow, pink, or lime green?”

Blaine doesn’t look up from his homework. They’ve been studying in Kurt’s room for over an hour now, and Blaine’s only been distracted by Kurt’s profile once. It’s a slippery slope; one glance turns into a look, then suddenly it’s a gaze, and if he’s not careful he’ll start to stare. It’s best to keep his head down.

“Yellow. Why?”

“Because,” Kurt’s practically singing, clearly very excited about whatever’s brewing in his head. “I’m planning our rebellion.”

Blaine really has no choice. He lifts his eyes and sees Kurt’s conspirative smile and three bottles of nail polish in his hands. 

“And what, exactly, are we rebelling against?”

Kurt slides from the desk onto the bed, sitting cross legged across from Blaine. He closes the history textbook, deaf to the other’s objections, and tosses it to the floor with a loud thud.

“These stupid dress code regulations, of course,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been reading and rereading them, and there’s absolutely no wiggle room for a jaunty brooch or even a tie clip.” He tugs on Blaine’s lapel, clearly picturing something pinned to it, and sighs loudly.

“I’m pretty sure nail polish won’t fly, either.”

“It won’t. Did you know it says right in the regulations, ‘nails must be clean and trimmed to a length no longer than 7 millimeters, and remain varnish free’? But they can’t see what’s on our feet!”

“Twisted genius,” Blaine jokes, flinging his socks across the room.

Kurt flops onto his stomach and carefully balances the bottle of bright yellow polish on the bed. “Feet out, Anderson, it’s time to start the revolution.”

This was written for a prompt that was going around earlier today, but I forgot to save it. Ooops :/

“Put your fingers… there.” Blaine gently guides Kurt’s wrist to its destination, nodding slightly when Kurt’s fingers find the perfect place. “Like that. Don’t go too hard though. Just start lightly." 

Kurt nods, his face screwed up in concentration, and tests out his first finger. The lubricant they applied just before makes for an easy slide, and he feels a bit more confident. 

He was embarrassed to try at first; he’s never done it before, and Blaine has had years of practice. He worries he’ll do something totally wrong, but Blaine encourages him along, easing his fears.  

"Are you ready for your mouth?”

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Kurt tilted his hips up desperately, aching for the sweet relief of friction on his neglected cock but finding nothing. With a frustrated moan, he clenched his eyes shut and turned his head, doing everything he could to block out the tortuous deprivation. His hands were folded under his back to deter him from touching himself and his nails dug sharply into his skin.

“God, Blaine” He whined. “Please. I’m so close. Just touch me.”

Blaine laughed darkly. He’d been pumping his fingers shallowly in and out of Kurt while his other hand trailed over every inch of skin he could reach. Except where Kurt needed it. “I am touching you.” He pinched Kurt’s hip to prove his point. “I’ve been touching you for an hour now.”

An hour. An hour of Blaine hovering over him, licking and biting and mapping out each vertebrae, rib, finger, everything but his cock, all the while under strict orders no to touch. Kurt had wondered how Blaine would punish him, but this was Blaine’s night, and Kurt wanted to make it so, so good for him. 

So he laid still, or as still as he could, and let Blaine do everything but not enough, let him come twice while Kurt still hadn’t had that same relief yet.

“You know what I-” Kurt cut off with a gasp when Blaine slid a third finger inside him. He rocked down, trying to get Blaine deep enough to his prostate. That was all he needed. Just one touch and he would be done.

Blaine pulled out and placed his hand on Kurt’s stomach, ignoring the pathetic babbling that erupted from his boyfriend’s mouth. “Stop.” He warned, his eyes warning but still shining with the glow of lust and adoration Kurt knew so well. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Kurt delicately peels the liner off the moist cupcake, painstakingly avoiding dislodging any crumbs, and sets it back on the fine china plate. Blaine watches anxiously on the side, trying to decipher Kurt’s neutral expression as he takes a tentative bite of Blaine’s hand made cupcake. He didn’t even use cake mix. 

Kurt hums approvingly and takes another, bigger bite. He chews happily, the chocolate of the batter deliciously rich on his tongue and the mint icing cool and refreshing. Blaine laughs, pointing to his nose, and Kurt crosses his eyes to see a small dollop of icing sitting on the end of it.  He wipes it with the back of his hand and goes in for another bite. 

“Good?” Blaine asks.

Kurt nods as he swallows, then grins coyly. “Easily the second most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Second best?” Blaine frowns. “What’s number one?”

Kurt wraps his hand around Blaine’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss.


accioblainey asked: Klaine during a thunderstorm.  We could all use some fluff about now.

When the lights flicker off and the TV cuts out, Kurt forgoes setting out his stash of candles to cuddle up next to Blaine in the dark and listen to the rain hitting the windows and the steady rolls of thunder. The storm has been waging for over an hour with no sign of clearing up soon, not that Kurt’s complaining; the downpour keeps Burt and Carole in Columbus and Finn at Rachel’s for the night.

“So cozy,” Blaine sighs, tucking himself closer into Kurt’s side. A flash of lightning illuminates the room and Kurt sees the content smile on Blaine’s face. It’s been a long time since they could just sit down and relax by themselves.

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Anonymous asked: Kurt and Blaine are discussing whose turn is it to buy lube and someone overhears them

An empty bottle of lube lays between them on the bed, taunting them. Blaine sits cross-legged and shirtless, staring down at the bottle as though enough willpower will force it to refill. When that proves futile, he looks up at Kurt, equally shirtless, pants unzipped, and pouting. 

“I bought it last time!” Kurt snaps.

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“Kurt, you know how I told you my brother was coming to visit tomorrow?”


“I didn’t mention that my brother is Cooper Anderson.”

Kurt pauses. 

“Wow. It must suck having the same name as a celebrity. I bet that gets old fast.”

“No, Kurt. My brother is Cooper Anderson.”

Kurt nearly falls off the bed. “I can’t- Blaine, I’ve seen all his movies.”

Blaine frowns. He expected him to recognize the name; starring in a three-part action franchise obliterated any anonymity, but he never pegged Kurt as the type to watch any of them. He was hoping he hadn’t.

“You have? Did Finn make you? Did you even like them?”

Kurt’s staring at him with round eyes, wordlessly trying to communicate something that Blaine can’t seem to pick up on.

“I didn’t watch them with Finn. I watched them in my room. Alone.”

A beat.



Blaine fumbles for his phone, dropping twice before his fingers stay still long enough to unlock it. “That’s it. I’m calling him now and telling him to cancel his trip. I can never look at him again.”

Anon asked: Blaine comes home after a long day at work and finds Kurt jamming while cleaning to a heavy metal (or something equally unexpected) song.

Blaine’s first thought upon walking down the hallway is that someone broke into the apartment and hijacked the iPod player. As he gets closer, he realizes that doesn’t really make any sense: if someone had gone through the effort of sneaking in, they wouldn’t play their music so loudly. Either way, Blaine’s still apprehensive when he turns the key in the lock.

A wave of short, repeating saxophone notes  and angry rap lyrics hit him as soon as he pushes the door open. Sure enough, Kurt’s voice, high and clear, hilariously distinct from the recording, blends with the music. 

Blaine tiptoes through the apartment, finding Kurt in the kitchen. He’s washing the dishes in a pair of yellow rubber gloves and his maroon boxer briefs, his head nodding along in time with the music. Occasionally, he kick his leg back on an accented beats, or juts his hip to the side.

Chuckling quietly, Blaine slips his phone out of his pocket and records as Kurt sings.

Ante Up! Yap that fool!Ante Up! Kidnap that fool!
It’s the perfect timin’, you see the man shinin’
Get up of them god damn diamonds! Huh!

Kurt sings each word of the verses flawlessly, and Blaine considers sneaking “sick MC” into Kurt’s resumé.


Whatever dish Kurt had been holding falls into the sink with a clatter and a loud splash, sending bubbles flying. Blaine laughs outright now and throws his phone and book bag on the couch. 

“Gonna join?” He points to the drying cloth and Blaine rolls up his sleeves.

As he takes his place next to Kurt, the song fades out a new one kicks in. One Blaine knows very well.

“Kurt, it’s our song!” He nudges Kurt during the intro, and mouths along to the spoken words.

“This is not our song. Now shut up and sing.”

Blaine grins at him, and when the lyrics start, he and Kurt sing in unison.

I like big butts and I cannot lie…

Drabble: Kurt and Rachel argue over who gets the hotel room.

Blaine and Finn lean against the wall, arms crossed. They don’t talk, but they exchange nervous smiles from time to time. Around them, the prom committee and a few gracious volunteers sweep up the confetti and haul the tables from the gym. 

“Do you think they’re done yet?” Finn wonders. 

“I’m sure we would have heard the gunshots,” Blaine half-jokes in reply, but he moves to the girl’s bathroom and opens the door a crack, listening in.

“It’s on MY credit card, Rachel!” Kurt yells, his voice reverberating around the room.

“But I won Prom Queen!” Comes Rachel’s retort. “Finn and I need that room!”

“So do Blaine and I!”

There’s silence as the reach the impasse. They’ve been going at it for fifteen minutes now, leaving Blaine and Finn to wait anxiously as they decide who gets to spend the night at the hotel room they booked.

“Kurt, I will give you my signed Patti Lupone ‘Anything Goes’ playbill for three weeks, assuming you return it in its pristine condition.”

Blaine worries. That’s a great offer, and it might swindle Kurt. 

There’s silence, and he thinks Kurt might be contemplating the offer, but pressing his ear in closer he can hear Kurt whispering, though he can’t make out what he’s saying.

“You wouldn’t!” Comes Rachel’s shocked reaction.

“Try me.”

Another moment of silence, then the door swings open, throwing Blaine off balance. Rachel storms out, her heels clicking loudly against the floor, followed by a grinning Kurt.

“Come on,” he grabs Blaine’s lapel and tugs him out the doors. Blaine’s vaguely aware of a loud groan of disappointment from Finn, but most his attention is turned to Kurt; his loose collar, the sheen of sweat around his neck, and the rosy flush of exertion high on his cheeks. 

And really, Blaine thinks, they’re going to do a better job taking advantage of their alone time. 

Klaine Week Day 1: Kid!Klaine (G)

It’s a beautiful afternoon when Blaine arrives at the park. The sun is warm, lingering around the cloudless sky and heating everything below it until it’s nearly untouchable. A breeze, cool and steady, lifts the girl’s skirts and provides enough relief to keep the temperature bearably hot instead of muggy and sweltering.

“Coop! Coop! There’s a sandbox, look!” Blaine tugs insistently on his brother’s hand and points out the unmissable pit. “Let’s go!”

He bolts off before Cooper can remind him to stay close, his little feet carrying him faster than most kids his age, then leaps in the air. Coopers almost has a heart-attack as he watches Blaine jump, convinced he’s going to land wrong, or overshoot the box and scrape a knee, and he’ll get his Play Station taken away again.

But Blaine lands right in the middle of the sandbox, sending dirt flying into the wind then losing his balance. He falls backwards onto his bum with a quiet ‘oomph,’ then turns back to Cooper, glad to see his brother watched his harrowing stunt.

He begins to dig wildly, making his hands into shovels and scooping dirt away in yet another attempt to find China. In his assiduousness to the task at hand, he doesn’t notice the boy approach him.

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