muffinbuttblainers prompted: BLAINE HAS A COLD OR THE FLU AND FEELS LIKE SHIT AND THINKS KURT WONT BE HOME TO TAKE CARE OF HIM BUT KURT GETS OFF WORK EARLY AND NURSES BLAINE AND IS SUPER SWEET AND CUDDLY WIWBALEBALABSQ
It’s not even the worst cold he’s ever had, but it’s still bad enough to make him feel like shit. His head hurts and he can’t breathe through his nose which means his throat is getting sore too and he feels too cold and then too warm and his bones hurt. Especially the ones in his fingers. And the skin on the inside of his elbows. Being sick is weird. Also, his legs feel funny and moving too fast makes him dizzy and after staring at the kitchen cabinets for a good ten minutes, he finally decides to give up on the experiment of making tea and just go back to bed instead.
It’s just another lazy Sunday for Blaine, who decides to use the time to catch up with his friends and family via the Internet. New York City is a great place to live, but he misses his family – even his brother, weirdly enough. But that’s probably just what happens when they live on opposite ends of the country.
He’s not completely alone here, of course. He has friends in the city, and he even has a roommate named Kurt. Kurt’s not a typical roommate, however; he’s a cat hybrid, and he used to be homeless. While he’s far more human than cat, giving him the legal right to hold a job among other things, the ears and tail and other minor traits tend to earn him unwelcome attention – it’s the reason he was ever homeless in the first place, after all.
Klaine; A03. WC: 3600/18.6k. NC-17
TW: sexual assault, non-con (aftermath)
Read from the beginning on A03.
What begins as an uncomfortable game of Spin the Bottle turns into something horrible. A story of how love can carry you through even your worst nightmare.
In this chapter, Kurt plans a special evening. Blaine has told him he’s ready; Kurt doesn’t know why he’s the one who’s nervous.
It was a Saturday night, and Kurt was circling the kitchen table, adjusting the silverware, replacing the midnight blue napkins with the cerulean striped ones, trying to find the ideal placement for the candles. He wanted everything to be perfect – but at the same time, he didn’t want to make too big a deal out of the evening. He recognized the irreconcilable differences in this position, but he was helpless to fix it. His thoughts had been involved in this kind of ridiculous spiral all day long.
Kurt was lining up the spoons along the sides of the knives – they were obstinately refusing to stay straight - when Blaine got home. Before he could let go of his obsession with the silverware and make some pretense of suave confidence Blaine was there, warm and solid against his back, his scent suddenly surrounding him. Blaine gently put his arms around Kurt and stilled his hands, then planted a soft kiss on the side of his neck. “Honey, I’m home,” he sing-songed softly.
Kurt closed his eyes and relaxed back into Blaine’s hold, taking a moment to marvel at the inadvertent double meaning of Blaine’s comment. Blaine was his home, his safe place, his security. He turned in Blaine’s arms and kissed him deeply, thankful beyond words that Blaine was still here, whole and healthy, still his. That Barton hadn’t kicked him so hard that he bled out in the alleyway, or knifed him when he resisted, or…. The possibilities were endless, and Kurt had thought of dozens of them. But those thoughts were not for tonight.
It’s the little things, as Blaine quickly comes to learn the longer they live together. It’s the smallest things you barely even think about, the most insignificant little details, it’s all those things you notice and catalog and collect and make into a part of everything bigger and more important without even knowing it.
Like waking up in the morning with his front pressed to Kurt’s back, happy and warm and drowsily clinging to the remnants of sleep with one arm around his boyfriend’s waist, hand touching soft skin where Kurt’s shirt has ridden up.