#klaine advent: farm

[gleekto]

Fic: Unsolicited Advice (6/?)

Summary: Blaine and Kurt are 22 and living in New York City. Blaine is in a stale relationship. Kurt likes to have his bachelor fun. They haven’t met yet.

Just your standard coffee shop meet cute…but in a drugstore, in the condom aisle.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Unsolicited Advice - Part 6 - Farm (Kurt POV)

Kurt knows he doesn’t need any more condoms, knows he’s not even really in the mood to go out tonight. But he somehow finds himself wandering into his neighbourhood Duane Reade at 8pm on an early December Saturday night, not admitting to himself that he may be hoping for some company. He knows the idea makes no sense and perhaps smells of desperation but he can’t actually ask Blaine out for another coffee. It’s expected to exchange contact information after running into a friendly acquaintance in a coffee shop. But it’s against the rules of social engagement to actually use that information. Too much. And could be misinterpreted. Or correctly interpreted. All of which would be bad. 

So instead, Kurt finds himself combing the aisles of Duane Reade like a farmer in a familiar field, his shopping cart his plow as he picks this and that off the shelves. So far he has a fascinating collection of breath mints, shampoo, and dental floss, and he turns on to the family planning aisle to make his way toward the cashier with no Blaine in sight. 

“You are definitely stalking me.” Maybe he spoke too soon. He turns right in front of the very condoms that first brought them together, and there is Blaine in a navy blue wool winter coat and a stylish burberry scarf. Damn it he’s cute.

“I could say the same about you. I did tell you that I make my way out to Vibe on many a Saturday night-”

“And you always make the responsible stop, I see,” Blaine gestures at the condom boxes on the shelves beside them.

“Always,” Kurt nods and tosses his favourite brand into his cart. “And you and Stephen - also preparing for a safe and responsible night of passion?”

Blaine looks down at the bottle of Advil in his hand. “Ha no. Still have lots left.” He holds up the Advil bottle. “Not tonight, honey. I have a headache?”

“Ah the wild life of relationship bliss.”

“It’s not all that,” Blaine mumbles under his breath as Kurt pays the cashier.

“What?” Kurt thinks he heard that right. No bliss?

“Oh nothing.” Blaine shrugs as he pays for his Advil and they head out of the store together. 

“How come I always see you alone?” Kurt knows curiosity killed the cat but he is curious. Where is this man of mystery who has stolen Blaine’s heart? Or at least his body. “I’m beginning to think Stephen is Mr. Snuffleupagus,” He crosses his arms. “Maybe created to prevent an unwanted pick up attempt in a Duane Reade on a random Saturday night?” I mean it’s not like Blaine wasn’t aware Kurt was flirting that night. And they’re past that now, unfortunately. But it is strange that he’s never with the guy.

“I did not make him up to stop you from hitting on me,” Blaine says emphatically. Kurt sees Blaine’s cheeks turn slightly red as he shakes his head and looks down. 

“And once it was out there, you couldn’t take it back even though we’ve become sort of friends. Gave him some backstory.” Not even Kurt believes what he’s saying but it’s nice to see the laugh behind Blaine’s sparkling eyes.

“If I was going to make him up, don’t you think I’d come up with something better than a business major from a friend’s party-” He stops himself. “I mean-I didn’t mean.” Blaine looks guilty. 

“And you completely don’t need to explain,” Kurt saves him. And maybe himself. “Have a great night, Blaine. Don’t get too crazy,” He gestures at the Advil and Blaine’s eyes laugh again. “Tell Snuffy I say hi.”

Duane Reade. Totally the best part of Kurt’s Saturday night. 

[wowbright]

Fic: Lead, Kindly Light

Klaine Advent 2020: farm

Words: ~3000 words

Rating: General audience/Teen and Up

Summary: Kurt and Blaine have a romantic getaway in the foothills of the Alps, except they think it’s platonic because they’re them.

Another vignette from my Mormon!Klaine universe for Klaine Advent 2020. The two long fics from that universe are on ao3: Small Things, about Kurt growing up Mormon, and A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, about the first day of Kurt and Blaine working/living together as missionary companions (co-missionaries) in Germany.

This vignette takes place shortly after A Marvelous Work And A Wonder, Indispensable, and Joy of Service, around the time of Rings and Things. Kurt and Blaine are serving together as missionaries in Ingolstadt, Germany, for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, AKA the Mormons. If you want more context, you can read the stories mentioned above and/or see the notes of my previous Klaine Advent 2020 posts.

Notes: P-day, or preparation day, is the one day a week that missionaries get time off to take care of errands or, if they can manage it, squeeze in some fun. The title of this installment is from the hymn of the same name (lyrics, recording—thank @redheadgleek for discussing hymns with me today!).

If you have any questions about cultural and religious references, feel free to use my ask box!

--------

Farm fields flashed past them like color-soaked banners of yellow and aquamarine in the early morning sun. Kurt watched out the train window as Blaine snored softly next to him. They were the only two people in the compartment—six whole seats to themselves—but for whatever reason Blaine had decided to sit right next to him instead of taking the bank of seats across from them and using it as a sleeping couch. Instead, he was using Kurt's arm as a sleeping couch. The side of his temple was nestled against Kurt's shoulder and he had one arm wrapped around Kurt's elbow like he was clutching on to a safety blanket.

Kurt should shrug him off. He really should. He was enjoying this far more than a Mormon missionary—any Mormon guy for that matter—should be. It was also preventing him from getting any sleep before their train arrived in Allgäu. He couldn't stop bouncing his knee to the beat of the train wheels against the tracks, because Blaine was right there and warm and his hair smelled sweet, like fresh air and raspberries.

But he didn't want to wake Blaine up. Blaine—no Elder Anderson, he should really stop thinking of him as Blaine— was more exhausted than Kurt, having expended way more energy the afternoon before on their weekly volunteer stint at a local rec center teaching basketball to German kids. Kurt was no expert and Elder Anderson wasn't either, but since they were American, everyone assumed they’d been playing it since they learned to walk. And what Elder Anderson didn't have in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm. Kurt preferred to stay on the sidelines and clap whenever someone tried to make a basket. But Elder Anderson got in there, running nonstop back and forth across the court to cheer the kids on. He probably logged more miles than any of the players did.

And Elder Anderson hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep last night, either. Kurt had heard some somnolent breathing after they'd turned out the lights, but when Kurt got up at 4:30 so they could catch an early train, Elder Anderson was already showered, looking dapper in an Easter-yellow polo and blue gingham bowtie, and standing next to a picnic feast that looked like it would barely fit in their backpacks. “How long have you been up?” Kurt had asked.

“Longer than I should have been,” Elder Anderson admitted with a sheepish smile. “But I woke up and just couldn’t get back to sleep. I’m too excited because it’s your birthday and we’re going somewhere fun for P-day instead of just staying at home and running errands.”

“See, that's your problem right there. You don't know for a fact that we're going to have fun today, because you've never been to Allgäu before. It could be terrible for all you know. If you’d reminded yourself of that, you could have fallen right back asleep.”

“Oh, c’mon, Elder Hummel. You've seen the pictures just like I have. All that green and hills and those cute brown cows.” Blaine clasped his hands together and bounced on his toes like a little kid at Christmas. “Besides, I know it's going to be fun no matter what because I'm going with you.”

Kurt rolled his eyes even though, inside of him, his heart was going all melty like a dish of ice cream left too long on the counter. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It's not flattery, it’s—” Fortunately, Elder Anderson was interrupted by a perilously poised water bottle choosing that moment to fall off the edge of the kitchen counter. Kurt really didn't need all the crazy things Elder Anderson said to go to his head.

He didn't need the crazy things Elder Anderson did to go to his head either—much less his heart or anything further below it. But Kurt decided not to wake him up. Elder Anderson needed to sleep; he wasn't trying to test Kurt. He was just a naive straight boy from Mormon country with no personal boundaries around his gay companion because he apparently he didn't quite get what being gay meant. If Elder Anderson's unconscious affection made Kurt long for something more, that was Kurt’s burden to bear, not Elder Anderson’s.

*

The sun was fully up by the time they arrived in Allgäu. They rolled their bikes off the train and considered where to go next. They didn't have any specific plans, just their food, some money, a map, and five hours before they had to catch the train back to Ingolstadt for their afternoon appointments.

“That bakery,” Elder Anderson pointed across the street at a little storefront that emitted a sweet, yeasty aroma every time someone opened the front door. “Let's start there.”

“You packed enough food to feed the entire mission for a week.”

“I packed emergency rations since we don't know how far we're going to bike. You burn 40 calories for every mile on a bike.”

“That’s 200 calories for 5 miles. You definitely packed more than 200 calories for each of us.”

“You think we’re only going 5 miles? We’ll cover a lot more ground than that. Besides, it's all hills here. Way more calories. And that's on top of what we already burn just by breathing.” Elder Anderson wheeled his bike toward the bakery and set it on its kickstand outside the door. “Besides, I'm sure they have some regional specialty I've never heard of before and I'll spend my whole life regretting it if I don't taste it now when I have a chance.”

Kurt didn't offer any more resistance. It was a convincing argument, and besides, all he'd had for breakfast was half a pretzel with butter. His stomach was beginning to wake up now.

They did indeed find some regional specialties they'd never heard of. They ordered two and split them--one savory and one a sweet.

“OK, truth time,” Elder Anderson said, taking a sip of mineral water to wash down his second breakfast. “I didn't really mean to pack quite so much food. I just needed to keep busy and I couldn't go back into the bedroom to get anything because I didn't want to wake you up. I'd already done my scripture study and my language study—”

“Wait, what? When did you wake up? I don’t think you ever actually told me.”

“Two-thirty? Three? I tried not to look at the clock.”

“Just from excitement? Or is something bothering you, too?”

Elder Anderson looked down at his empty plate. “I don’t think so. I mean—sometimes I get a little overwhelmed, with everything always being so new and never quite getting German. And then there’s the bouncing around from companion to companion and never knowing what I'm doing or when I’m up for transfer or where I'll even be living next week.”

“I think that means something’s bothering you.”

“Yeah.” Blaine laughed and rubbed his hand over his hair, slicking it back, as if he hoped the act of getting his hair under control would get his life under control, as well. “I guess. It’s just, I— I really enjoy this companionship and I keep worrying that President Steele is going to reassign me or you because, I don't know, it doesn't make sense because my numbers have been better with you than with any of my other companions, but maybe you would get better numbers with a different companion, or—”

Kurt touched his fingers to Elder Anderson's arm—just for a fleeting moment, just enough to put him back in his body instead of in his head. Elder Anderson was so tactile. He needed human contact in a way that Kurt was just barely beginning to understand. “Don't worry about that. Yes, it could happen, but I don't think so. I'm not going to be in Germany much longer and it would be kind of douchey to sick me with a new companion right before I'm leaving the country. Besides,” Kurt lowered his voice like he was about to communicate some top-secret gossip about the English royals to a high-paying contact in the British tabloids, “apparently President Steele didn’t mention this to you, but he told me in his last email you’d be my final companion in the mission. I’m staying in Ingolstadt. There’s no one else.”

“Really?” Elder Anderson looked up, his eyes big and round and hopeful. Kurt hated it when Elder Anderson looked at him that way. It made him feel special. Prized. It filled Kurt’s head with words like Liebling and Spatzerl and Schatz. “That’s such a relief.”

*

Elder Anderson was right. They biked way more than five miles. It didn’t feel like it (until the next day), but that’s what the map said—at least, if they were converting kilometers to miles correctly. Kurt had been in Germany so long he could no longer tell a mile by feel.

And they walked, too—sometimes because the hills were just too steep, sometimes because they wanted a closer look. Allgäu was in full bloom, the fields carpeted with colorful flowers of yellow and purple and white that Kurt couldn't name.

But Elder Anderson was obsessed with the cows, not the flowers. He wanted to get off his bike almost every time they came upon a group grazing.

“You act like you've never seen a cow before,” Kurt said the first time it happened, when Elder Anderson slammed on his brakes, threw his bike down on the side of the trail, and made a beeline toward the wooden fence that held a small herd of 10 or 15 brown cows.

“I haven’t seen a cow before.”

“What do you mean? Everyone’s seen a cow.”

“Not up close. I've seen them in pictures and I've seen them through car windows during transfers here in Germany. Arizona isn't exactly dairy country, you know.”

Kurt followed him toward the fence. The cows looked relaxed; it was a tourist area and they were probably used to strangers. But still, they had horns. “Don't try to grab them or anything, OK? They’re enormous. And on private property. I think.”

“I won’t. I’ll use my charm to get them to come to me.”

Kurt would have rolled his eyes, but he couldn't. He had no doubt that Elder Anderson could use his charm to get anything he wanted.

None of that first group of cows came up to them, but at the third or fourth farm, a pretty girl the color of Elder Anderson’s eyes came over to inspect them. She nuzzled her nose through the opening in the fence, going straight for Elder Anderson’s outstretched hands.

“She probably thinks you have food,” Kurt said. “I bet tourists around here are always surreptitiously feeding the cows. It must drive the farmers crazy.”

“She doesn't think I have food. She just wants affection.” Elder Anderson stroked her muzzle and called her sweet endearments in English and German and what Kurt assumed to be Tagalog, but might have been Swedish. “Everyone needs hugs and cuddles, don’t they, Liebchen?” That last sentence was directed toward the cow, who batted her big brown eyes in answer.

“She kind of reminds me you,” Kurt said.

Elder Anderson turned and gave Kurt an indecipherable look. “Oh?”

“I didn't mean that as an insult.” God, why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? Heat crept across Kurt’s collarbone and up his neck. “I meant—" OK, now that he was actually taking time to think before speaking, he had no idea what to say. Even though he knew exactly what he had meant. There was the thing about affection, and there were the eyes. Kurt went with the subject he thought was the safest, though later he would wonder if it really had been. “Her eyes, I mean. They’re big and brown—darker than yours, but still brown—and her eyelashes are all long and she blinks them when she's happy.”

Elder Anderson stopped stroking the cow’s muzzle. “I blink when I'm happy?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. When something startles you in a good way.” When I startle you in a good way, Kurt realized. He felt a weird flip in his stomach.

Elder Anderson turned back toward the cow and rubbed her neck. “You have pretty eyes, don't you girl? So I guess that means I have pretty eyes too,” he cooed at the cow.

*

They found a nice spot for lunch, at the top of a hill with a view of a village in the valley below. “Do you really think I have pretty eyes?” Elder Anderson said, then bit into an apple.

Criminy. Who was this kid? You do not ask that kind of question of your missionary companion. Especially not your gay missionary companion. Plus, Kurt wasn't even the one who’d brought up pretty eyes. “Elder Anderson, just because I'm gay doesn't mean …" and then Kurt ran out of words because he couldn't think of a phrase to end that sentence which would also be true.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t know why I said it. I just— You have good taste. Your clothes, and your hair, and the little details you notice that other people don't. Your opinion is important to me.” Elder Anderson stared at his apple core, then through it toward the Valley. It bounced a few times before disappearing into the meadow grass. His expression turned sullen. “Which means you probably shouldn't say anything, because I’ve already invested myself in the answer.”

Kurt couldn’t stand Elder Anderson looking like that. For Pete's sake—Kurt was going to say it, wasn’t he? Just to get that sullen look off his face. Just to see him smile again.

“Yes, your eyes are pretty,” Kurt said. His ears felt sunburned. His cheeks burst into flame. “They are at least on par with the eyes of that cow, which are objectively pretty.”

“Do you mean it? You're not just saying it because I asked?”

Seriously, Elder Anderson was going to be the death of him. Maybe Kurt should ask for a transfer. “Actually, Elder Anderson, I am only saying it because you asked. But it's still true.”

Elder Anderson smiled and blinked, the same way he always did when he was delighted by something new. “Sorry, that was super rude of me. But also, thanks.”

“You're not welcome.” Kurt glugged down half a bottle of water to keep himself from spontaneously combusting.

*

“Oh my gosh, Elder Hummel. You have to see this!”

“Do I really, though?” It was an hour before they had to catch the train back, and Kurt had found the perfect spot for napping under a small, broad-leafed tree. Tiny bits of sun crept through the canopy and dappled against his closed eyelids. The grass was soft and not a single souvenir had been left here by a cow. He did not want to move for at least another year.

“Yes, you do!”

Kurt felt a hand on his hand, pulling him up to his feet. He opened his eyes to see Elder Anderson’s face in front of his, flush with excitement.

“I'm sorry, but I don't know how long it's going to last, and it's just so beautiful.”

“What is?”

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

Elder Anderson didn’t let go of Kurt’s hand as he ran toward the crest of the hill. He didn’t let go when they reached the top, either. “There,” he said, pointing toward a far-off mountain. “Isn't that gorgeous?”

The mountain was surrounded by a bank of clouds through which a single sunbeam broke. It lit up the icy slopes in impossible shades of green and brown and gold. The light itself was perfect, delicate and refined, making the air around it undulate with color. It reminded Kurt of a classical oil painting, some famous chiaroscuro or the hand of Michelangelo’s God breaking through the clouds on the ceiling of Sistine Chapel.

Except it wasn’t. The paintings were imitations. This was the real thing. Had Kurt ever understood how beautiful God’s world could really be?

He squeezed Blaine’s hand. “Yes. It’s breathtaking.”

*

Blaine fell asleep on the train back, too, in the exact position he had assumed that morning. Kurt didn’t mind so much this time. He found his own head falling until his cheek pressed against the top of Blaine’s hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath. He let himself enjoy the smell—almost all fresh air and very little raspberries now—and the warmth of his hand on Kurt’s elbow.

Kurt didn’t have much to compare his current feelings to. His crush on Finn had been intense, but not like this. And this moment, right now? It was revelatory. Yes, it contained the familiar thrill of desire. But there was something deeper about it, something that desire shouldn't be able to coexist with. It felt almost like contentment.

Kurt knew he should call up President Steele. He would explain the situation and ask for a transfer. Surely, President Steele would be willing to separate them.

But as Kurt seriously considered the option, a vision of the future unrolled before him. He would have an ordinary companion and an ordinary rest of his mission. He would return to Ohio, go to school, get a job, and be active in his ward. His bishop would give him callings, and he would enjoy most of them. He would do all this alone, celibate, and longing for human connection.

That was his plan, barring a miracle.

Blaine wasn’t that miracle. He was a straight kid from Mesa and, like everyone else in the church, he lacked the power to change God's mind about the kind of life that Kurt would have to live.

But Blaine was something special. He made Kurt feel safe. Connected. Loved. And even if that love wasn't the kind of love that Kurt longed for, it gave Kurt a glimpse of what real love could be. If Kurt had to live his entire earthly life without the kind of love he needed, at least he could have this: a friend who made him feel like he was whole, and that all was right with the world.

[redheadgleek]

Mending

Righteous anger gets him through the first few days after Kurt callously destroys their entire relationship with that one shouted sentence that will never stop haunting Blaine’s dreams. Indignation flames over him as he stomps to Artie’s apartment, over Kurt treating these years together as dispensable rubbish. How dare he, how fucking dare he? 

The fiery anger seeps into disbelief too soon, leaving Blaine only with anguish. Despite their flaws, they were meant to be, fearless and forever. This can’t be the end. 

He knew that things were going wrong, as words became barbed attacks. He had been reckless too, he acknowledges, ploughing through wedding plans despite Kurt’s increasing reluctance to even talk about ideas, determined to make an event worthy of Kurt and their love, trying too hard to pretend that things were going to be okay. Because sometimes, many times, they were okay. Great even. Their last Sunday together had been spent sharing orgasms in the warm morning light that filtered into the room that they shared. Kurt had kissed his shoulder, clutching him closer as he coaxed him expertly towards shattering bliss and they had enjoyed lingering kisses in bed long after their passions had sated. They spent the afternoon holding hands in the neighborhood market as they sampled farm-grown fares and Blaine had basked in that surety and love. Sure, the day had been marred by Kurt getting called into work and Blaine may have said something about Kurt not making the relationship a priority (he had asked him for one day just for them - was that too much?) and Kurt had slammed the door behind, leaving Blaine with endless silence. 

Disbelief settles into numbness, his broken heart ash in his hands. He doesn’t know how to survive without Kurt. How can he do this alone? 

***

Since he was a little boy, wishing that he was in Ariel’s place, Kurt has dreamed of his wedding. He was glued to his computer when Kate Middleton married Prince William, taking meticulous notes on flower arrangements and color schemes. If he had doodled the name of his brand new boyfriend in the margins and dreamed of taking Blaine’s hand just like William did, well, that was his secret he kept close to his heart. Over the years, his ideas evolved, although Blaine as the groom remained constant. When Blaine proposed, visions of the perfect wedding occupied his daydreams. 

Reality was a bitch to those dreams. They were college students, with a modest budget donated by their parents. The imagined destination ceremony in a castle in France with Swarovski crystal chandeliers adored with white roses gave way to a rented room in a nondescript hotel, hardly the statement event he had envisioned. Plus, Kurt hated trying to make decisions about their tuxes and dinner choices and seating arrangements while balancing finals and his demanding job. He found himself avoiding wedding talk as much as possible.  

If they had waited until they were older, a little more settled, perhaps then he could have had the wedding of his dreams, but Blaine looked hurt every time Kurt broached delaying the wedding. Until all of that simmering anger had erupted, destroying every one of their plans for forever. 

Now, months later, Kurt stands in a draft barn on a middle-of-nowhere Indiana farm, watching Blaine walk down the aisle towards him, a setting that could not be farther from his childhood fantasies. And yet, it could not be more perfect. He’s sure of their love, sure of the commitment that he will make today with Blaine. 

His eyes glisten as he takes Blaine’s hand.

[darriness]

Klaine Advent 2020 - Day 6

Title: Farm

Author: darriness

Rating: M

Word Count: 782

Summary: A Christmas tradition

Author’s Note: I sort of challenged myself to start each summary with 'A Christmas...'. Not sure I love how this descriptions ends but I kinda love the fic so it balances out lol 

Also thanks to @caramelcoffeeaddict, @slayediest, @na-page, and @tchrgleek for voting in my informal poll yesterday! I tried to satisfy all of your votes. Hope I succeeded! @lucy8675309 - Also thank you for voting! I will try and fulfill your request at some point!

AO3 Link

Kurt comes awake to Blaine kissing his neck. In the brief moment between being asleep and being awake, Kurt relishes the pops of sensation each kiss brings. When he’s fully awake, he still relishes the feeling but his brain finally catches up and he groans.

“We have to be up early.” Kurt whispers into the quiet.

Blaine doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, “I need you again.” He all but whines.

Sex had happened before bed. It usually did. But then they’d drifted off to sleep in their post-orgasmic haze and Kurt had assumed he wouldn’t be up again until the alarm went off.

Kurt closes his eyes around a hum as Blaine’s hand trails down his stomach and begins to palm him through his pyjama pants. Kurt relaxes into the feeling, letting his hips thrust slightly a few times, before he smacks his lips together and tries again, “Farm. Kids. Tomorrow. Early.”

They’re taking the kids to the Christmas tree farm in the morning to look at animals and choose their Christmas tree for the season. They’d promised them earlier in the week. They need to be asleep because a regular Saturday with their two kids is exhausting enough but a day on a farm?

Blaine’s wet lips drag upward to rest against Kurt’s ear as he lightly squeezes the cloth covered hardening flesh in his hand, “I’m still wet and open.” He pants.

Kurt curls towards Blaine with a desperate groan, hooking an arm under Blaine’s and clutching his shoulder, “Don’t say stuff like that.” 

“Why?” Blaine asks, “It’s the truth. I’m open, wet, and I need you again.” He says, “I need you to turn me over, flatten me onto the mattress and use this,” He lightly squeezes Kurt’s now fully erect cock again, “to make. Me. Scream.” He punctuates each of his last words with a firm stroke of Kurt’s erection.

Kurt bites his lip and buries his face into his pillow. He knows Blaine won’t actually scream. They’ve been perfecting the art of quiet sex since Lizzy was born eight years ago but just the words and the imagery are REALLY doing it for Kurt. And making him forget why he was protesting this in the first place.

“Please.” Blaine begs into Kurt’s ear and that’s it. Kurt is lost.

He pushes at Blaine’s shoulder until the younger man rolls away. He pushes his pyjama pants down as Blaine groans, triumphantly, and wiggles out of his boxers.

Kurt climbs up onto his knees and pulls Blaine’s hips back to meet his. He hisses at the contact, his cock sliding between Blaine’s spread thighs and rubbing along Blaine’s equal hardness, and thinks maybe he could just come from this.

“More.” Blaine pants and oh. Right. Blaine wants him inside.

He fumbles for the lube on the bedside table and dribbles it over Blaine’s still wet hole and his own erection. He might as well make this good for both of them.

-- -- --

“Daddy! Papa!” 

Two hours, and not enough sleep, later Kurt and Blaine are awoken by screaming voices and pounding feet. Lizzy and Matty charge into their room without knocking and scramble onto the bed. 

Lizzy straddles Blaine’s back and Matty straddles Kurt’s stomach. The four-year-old bounces slightly, causing Kurt to laugh and groan at the same time as he stills Matty with his hands on his hips. 

Kurt opens his eyes to see his smiling son above him and then turns to his right to see Blaine’s eyes squeezed shut. Kurt laughs at the pained expression.

“This is all your fault.” Kurt reminds.

Blaine’s eyes come open to glare.

“What’s Daddy’s fault?” Lizzy asks, “Are we still going to the farm? You promised!”

Kurt smiles at Blaine before looking up at Lizzy still straddling Blaine’s back, “We are definitely still going to the farm.” He says, avoiding the other question, “But Daddy and Papa can’t shower if you’re on us.” He says, tickling an already giggling Matty who falls over onto the mattress.

Lizzy giggles as well and moves from her spot to allow Blaine to get up. Blaine does with a massive groan and Kurt smirks as the other man limps toward the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Matty asks, concerned.

Blaine stops at the door to their ensuite and turns to his son with a smile and tired eyes, “I’m fine, buddy. Papa and I were just...playing a game last night and I hurt my back.”

“What game?” Matty asks as his eyes light up and he looks to Kurt, “Can I play?”

Kurt laughs, “When you’re older.”

Blaine’s laugh comes through the closed door as the sounds of the shower fill the room.

[klaineadvent]

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent Drabble 2020 - “To Tree or Not to Tree” (Rated NC17)

Summary: When Blaine tells Kurt that they're going out to "get a tree", Kurt never imagined they'd be trekking up a freezing cold mountainside to chop one down. (2820 words)

Notes: A re-vamp for the @klaineadvent Drabble Challenge 2020 prompt 'farm'.

Read on AO3.

“Oh. My. God!” Kurt groans, hopping out of his SUV and sinking up to his ankles in snow. “I thought you were kidding about this!”

“Nope.” Blaine rounds to the hatch of Kurt’s Navigator and pops it. He unzips a duffel he brought with, one Kurt had hoped was filled with fun surprises like a picnic lunch that they could enjoy in the vehicle with the heater blasting before they braved the weather to get their Christmas tree from a quaint but upscale tree farm, the kind that smells strongly of cinnamon pine cones and which offers customers plastic flutes filled with sparkling cider as they pass over the threshold into an idyllic Winter Wonderland lit by twinkling white fairy lights beneath the cover of a gigantic canopy. 

He’d dressed entirely in brands that Vogue recently featured in their center spread and had planned on snapping a few shots for the website - kill two birds with one stone. He’d even lent Blaine a few pieces he’d squirreled from The Vault. He could see the whole layout in his head. Behind his eyelids, the slideshow of images he had planned was fabulous.

But no. 

Disturbingly, Blaine pulls out a wood-handled ax, along with a pair of safety goggles; thick, brown gloves; and some rope. He holds them up for Kurt to see. “Totally not kidding."

“Do we really have to cut down a tree?” Kurt asks, watching Blaine gear up, a one-man wrecking crew, leading Kurt to the conclusion that he should stay at the SUV and let Blaine go on this ridiculous errand alone. 

“Yes, we do.” Rope looped over his arm and dangling across his chest, Blaine hoists his ax over one shoulder and begins the journey, carving a neat path up the slowly rising incline as Kurt follows behind, contemplating his options. He has the keys. He could definitely implement the stay behind and keep the heater company fantasy. But there is the small matter of he loves Blaine. He would be miserable and lonely waiting hours in the SUV without him. Besides, considering how well Blaine fills out those North Face pants and Carhartt jacket, Kurt sees how he can make this work in his favor. The new outdoorsman, who can go from big city to big country in the blink of an eye (courtesy of the right separates).

He’s not married to that headline, but he can hash it out as he goes.

“You do know there’s a Christmas tree farm right there,” Kurt points out, raising his voice to be heard over the howling wind. When Blaine peeks over his shoulder, Kurt throws out an arm in the direction that they came. Past the snow-covered asphalt lot, where Kurt’s SUV is currently one of five cars parked, stretch miles of evergreens, cut down and mounted onto wooden stands, waiting to be plucked, flocked, and paid for.

“Cutting down a tree has been a tradition in my family since before I was born,” Blaine says. 

Kurt looks at him sideways. “I ... didn’t know that.”

“Yup."

"How did I not know that? We've been married for three years!"

Blaine turns a full circle as he walks and gives Kurt a wink. "I guess I'm just full of surprises."

"You're full of something," Kurt mumbles under his breath.

"It's a tradition," Blaine continues, unaware of his husband's grousing. "One I want to hand down to our children someday.”

“Can’t we get them a pony instead?”

“I recommend not stomping up this incline,” Blaine advises, changing the subject, “or you’re going to exhaust yourself. I’m not sure I can carry you and a tree back down this mountain.”

"Hmph. Not with that attitude, you can't."

It’s a crisp December day, almost too cold to bear. The difference in temperature between the city and where they ended up is so drastic, it’s hard to believe they’re still in the same state. A perfect day to sit by the fire while binge-watching Netflix, with a cup of hot cocoa beside a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Kurt had everything he needed to make that happen, too, except the tree. 

Kurt and Blaine had yet to have a day off together to pick one out. 

So when Blaine came home, tossed Kurt a coat, and said, “Grab your keys! We’re getting a tree!” Kurt had been ecstatic! Until he discovered that Blaine’s idea of “getting a tree” wasn’t a simple matter of driving to a tree farm and picking out a decent six-foot Scotch Pine. 

No. 

Blaine had Kurt drive over an hour away from civilization to a place where there are no Starbucks, spotty WiFi, and no doors on the bathroom stalls.

The snow on the ground at this altitude is deep, becoming deeper as the slope of the mountain rises. And as breathtaking as the world looks from this elevation, Kurt hates everything about this. He hates the snow getting into his boots, soaking his three pairs of socks. He hates the wind that seems to purposefully sweep down the mountain straight into his face. Blaine walking ahead, right in front of him, does nothing to provide a barrier from the wind.

That’s because Blaine is loving this. And as a reward, the wind must be going right through him.

Blaine leads them deeper into woods that climb higher and higher. Even though the man who greeted them at the entrance, dressed in head-to-toe red flannel and brown corduroy, directed them up the mountain, saying this was the place locals preferred to get their trees, Blaine and Kurt don’t see anyone else past the tree line. The air gets thinner. The sunlight off the snow is brighter, blindingly bright, but it doesn’t offer Kurt or his rapidly chapping cheeks any warmth. He folds his arms over his chest and shoves his gloved hands underneath his armpits, but it doesn’t help thaw the tips of his fingers, which he can’t feel anymore.

“There are trees everywhere up here!” Kurt complains.

“Yeah! Isn’t it great!”

“Pick one! What are you doing?” Kurt gripes when they pass a swath of gorgeous trees and yet keep walking.

“I'm searching.”

“For what?”

“I’m looking for the perfect tree.”

“And what constitutes the perfect tree, in your opinion? Because from what I can see, we passed over two dozen perfect trees getting here!”

“When you see the perfect tree, you’ll know the perfect tree.”

Kurt has no idea what the heck that means but decides not to ask for clarification in an effort to get them off this frickin’ mountain and home quicker. Home equals warmth, comfort, and not succumbing to hypothermia. “Well, what about this one?” Kurt asks, pointing to a tree on his right.

“Ooo! That’s a good one!” Blaine says.

“Really?” Kurt asks, surprised that he got it right on the first try. Maybe he has a knack for this, like his knack for fashion. He does have an eye for aesthetics. “So this is the perfect tree?”

“Nope.”

Kurt stumbles. "Oh." He did not expect that answer. Eager to prevail, he points out another one. “This one?”

“No.”

“O-kay, what about this one?”

“Not quite, but good try.”

Kurt would throw his hands up in frustration, but his arms are locked in place, hugging his chest. 

“How did you become the tree authority?”

“Years of practice.”

“If you’re the one with the tree picking knowledge, what am I doing here that I couldn’t do at home where we have eggnog and cable?”

“You get to marvel in awe at my magnificent strength and skill.”

“I can’t help but remind you that I could be marveling at your strength and skill at home while you hold me up against the wall in our bedroom and make love to me.”

“True. But seeing as we did that all of last night and Mr. Mulroney has the night shift tonight, I thought it would be nice if we let the poor man sleep.”

“The walls in our apartment are thin, aren’t they?”

“They really are.”

They pass through a tight cluster of trees and enter a small clearing, coming upon a scene right out of a Hallmark Channel movie. God rays shine through the foliage overhead, lighting a single tree in the center. In the quiet of this enclosed glade, Kurt can’t hear the whistling wind, and he immediately begins to feel warmer. All they need now are cartoon animals bringing them presents and an angelic choir singing carols and they’ll be starring in their own Christmas special. 

It would be ideal, Kurt thinks, considering he’s a motherless child and he’s standing beside an elf. He puts a pin in it, with a plan to write up a treatment as soon as they get back to their apartment.

Provided he doesn’t lose any of his fingers before then.

Blaine tosses the rope aside. He walks reverently up to the center tree and stops in front of it. He opens his arms wide, ax clutched in his right fist. “Here,” he declares. “Here it is.”

Kurt looks at the tree in front of them, then at all the identical trees surrounding it. “Here what is?”

“Our perfect tree.”

“And what makes this tree any different from the sixty or more trees we passed hiking up here?”

“This one’s fuller, more symmetrical, with an almost pyramid top.” When Kurt doesn’t immediately agree, Blaine motions to the tree more vehemently, trying to get his point across. “It’s just more … more tree than those other trees. More Christmas …” Blaine turns to his husband standing off to the side behind him, arms crossed, head tilted. Blaine sighs. “You obviously don’t know your Christmas trees. If you can’t see why this one’s superior, I don’t know how to explain it to you.”

Kurt shakes his head. “Sorry.” 

“You’ll see the difference when it’s up in our apartment.” Blaine grips his ax with both hands and gets into position. “Okay! Stand back!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice. I love you, Blaine, but I have no intention of getting anywhere near you and that instrument of death.” 

Kurt takes a step back, then three more as Blaine hoists the ax behind him. Kurt fishes his iPhone out of his pocket, preparing to document what is either going to be the sexiest thing Blaine has ever done, or evidence for the investigators who might try to pin Blaine's grisly death on him. Either way, watching Blaine attempt to chop down a tree might actually be worth wet socks and a nightmare case of the flu.

Kurt holds up his phone with the camera app accessed, ready to film as Blaine takes his first swing, which, surprisingly, buries the blade a respectable depth into the wood. But it’s the pullback that gets Kurt, the way Blaine locks his feet in the snow, bends at the knees, and dislodges the ax. Kurt can’t see Blaine’s back through his coat, but he imagines the play of his muscles, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the cut of his delts showing through as they strain with effort. Kurt has seen Blaine naked over a hundred times, has watched the man make love to him in videos they’ve made. He envisions everything going on beneath Blaine’s clothes as he swings that ax … and the frigid air around him doesn't feel quite as cold anymore.

“Mmmm …” Kurt hits record and focuses his camera on his husband’s assets. After a minute of chopping, Blaine realizes Kurt has stopped commenting. He lowers his ax and takes a breather, catching the tail end of his husband's complimentary hum.

“Mmmm what?” Blaine turns, curious to see what Kurt has been doing that’s kept him quiet this whole time. He raises an eyebrow when he sees the phone in Kurt’s hands. “Are you ... recording me?”

“Maybe,” Kurt says, biting his lower lip. “You know, now that I get a good look at it, you did find the best tree on the mountain. And watching you cut it down is becoming a massive turn on. You being all lumberjack-ish is kind of hot.”

Blaine grins, leveling the ax over his shoulder. “Only kind of?”

“Well, yeah.” Kurt switches off his camera app and puts his phone back in his pocket, seeing a make-out break forthcoming. “The walk up the mountain took a lot out of me.”

Blaine leans his ax against the trunk of a tree and saunters up to his husband. “Well then … perhaps I can put something in you.”

Kurt snorts. “Okay, that’s cheesy as hell ... but I wish you would."

With a suggestive smile on his frosty lips, Blaine wraps one arm around Kurt’s waist and pulls him closer, his other hand reaching between them to fondle the bulge growing in the front of Kurt’s jeans. He tugs at the buttons of Kurt’s fly, and Kurt knows Blaine has more on his mind than kissing. He shoots an anxious look around their private nook. “What? Here?”

“Why not? We’re alone. There’s no one else around. No one will see us or hear us. You can scream all you want.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds like we're in a horror movie!"

"Is that your only objection?"

"No. I'm objecting because it’s freezing!”

“Come on …” Blaine takes off his gloves and begins unbuttoning Kurt’s wet coat, starting at the middle and working down. “I’m not going to strip us naked or anything. Besides, you’ll warm up in no time. You know what they say about body heat …”

“This reminds me of one of those bad amateur porn videos on the Internet. The ones that try to have a storyline, but the acting is so awful it turns into a comedy?”

“As a professional actor, I think I take offense to that.” Blaine nuzzles past Kurt’s icy jaw and into the warm skin of his neck. “What videos are you watching anyway?”

“I can show you. Maybe we can … you know … watch one or two … when we get home …” Kurt stutters, shivering when Blaine’s cold lips connect with his flesh, then melting beneath the heat of his husband’s tongue. Blaine walks Kurt backward, away from their half-chopped pine to the shelter of a different tree, moving them a safe distance on the off chance the poor thing decides to finish itself off without their help.

“Oh, God! Kurt!” Blaine moans, warming his hands by wedging them between the soft skin of Kurt’s groin and his growing erection.

“Blaine,” Kurt murmurs as his husband sucks a mark into the sensitive skin of his collarbone, “I just … I just want you to know that … if we freeze to death … or get eaten by a bear … I’m blaming you entirely.”

Blaine grabs Kurt’s trembling hands and brings them to the zipper of his pants. “Fair enough.”

***

“Welp. That was less than memorable,” Kurt grumbles, trying to re-button his jeans with numb fingers. “I hope that doesn’t become part of the tradition.”

“For the ninth time, I slipped!” an embarrassed Blaine says, teeth chattering, rushing to help Kurt do up his now useless coat. “I didn’t mean for us to take a nose dive into the snow!”

“Who would have thunk that fucking on ice would be dangerous!?" Kurt says sarcastically. "Christ! I must look like a wet French poodle!"

"That's ... oddly specific."

In an attempt to salvage the look he had going, Kurt tries combing his fingers through his hair but hits resistance. “Ugh! I think I’ve got sap in my hair.” He tugs and tugs, abandoning his attempts with a huff after he manages to get his fingers free … along with a sizeable chunk of hair. 

“Fucking on ice,” Blaine repeats with a chuckle. “That sounds like an X-rated skating show.”

Kurt glares at his husband, unamused. “Yeah. Hilarious. Can we go back to getting our perfect tree now, Grizzly Adams?”

“I don’t know …” Blaine looks at the tree they’d been fucking against before his enthusiastic thrusting caused them to slip and take a header into the snow. “I think I like this one now.” He pats the trunk, shaking loose a minor avalanche from the branches that contains more needles than snow.

Kurt steps back, making a face as he judges the less than spectacular tree. “Why?”

“We had sex on it. That makes it ours.”

“This isn’t a department store, Blaine. I don’t think you break it, you buy it applies here.”

“I think this falls more under the guidelines of I licked it, now it’s mine.”

“I understand the sentiment, but this one’s got a dent in it.” Kurt snickers. “A dent shaped like your ass.”

“That’s a good thing,” Blaine says, walking off to retrieve his ax. “We’ll know which side to face toward the wall.”

[notarelationship]

Klaine Advent 2020

Dalton Drabbles - 100 Words (or more) a Day

Word: farm

--

“Did you go back to the farm this weekend?” Sebastian sneered, dropping himself in a seat across the lunch table from Kurt. Normally the Warblers sat together according to their grade, but Sebastian didn’t seem to have much regard for Warbler traditions in general.

Kurt wanted to clap back at Sebastian, but he was still finding his feet in the Warbler hierarchy, so he bit his tongue.

“Kurt doesn’t live on a farm Sebastian,” Blaine said as he sat next to Kurt. Kurt internally fist pumped when Sebastian scowled across the table. “He’s from Lima.”

“Ah yes, Lima. How cosmopolitan.”

[hippohead]

postcode envy (6/24)

i am horrendously behind and catching up has been tricky with work, but i am still working on this advent fic, i promise! 

read it on ao3

Okay, so maybe Kurt should have thought it through.  

He’s out, Blaine is out, and they’re both in the public eye to some extent. You don’t have to give the media much before they start connecting dots... even when those dots don’t exactly connect yet.  

Or at all.  

But it was just supposed to be a cute photo on his Instagram feed.  

Blaine, personally, is having a wonderful time with it. He had walked onto set on their first day of filming and loudly announced to the make-up artists that the world thinks he’s dating Hollywood’s Kurt Hummel, and he'd followed it up with a dramatic bow. At first, Kurt had taken it on the chin and laughed it off and chuckled whenever Blaine had made a reference to it. But they’re on their third consecutive day of filming on a farm in East Auckland and he’s had it.

As if the heat and the cow shit and his less-than-ideal costume wasn’t enough, he’s having to fend off calls from friends and family back home and deal with everyone’s questions at work. If he sees one more raised eyebrow or knowing smile from a crew member, he’s going to lose it.  

“Hey, mate. You okay?”

Kurt forces a smile onto his face and turns to where Kura is standing a couple of feet away from him, “Yeah, just having a breather.” They're all on their lunch break and as much as he's been channeling some of his anger towards the farm itself, it really is beautiful and calming. Rolling hills and an incredible view of the ocean stretching out far away from them. He likes being able to see the water, and he likes that you’re never really far away from being able to in New Zealand.

Kura makes her way over to where Kurt is standing and they both look out at the sea, a nice silence settling over them. Kurt sort of hopes they can just be here and not do or say anything for a while, but then she raises her arm and points, “That’s Maraetai Beach down there.”

“It’s beautiful.”

She hums in agreement, “A couple of us are going to head down there after we wrap tonight and get some fish and chips. You should come,” and then, as a cheeky afterthought, she adds, “And you can bring that boyfriend of yours.”

Kurt manages a chuckle but it’s weak and transparent.  

When Kura speaks again, it’s more serious than he’s ever heard her. “You must get pretty sick of people being all up in your business all the time, huh?”

He tears his gaze away from the view and looks at her, tries to figure out what she wants from him; the truth, or the sugarcoated answer he’s learnt to give. But there’s a softness in the way she’s waiting for his reply and so he decides to just be honest. “It can get a bit overwhelming, yeah. The fact that I can’t even post a photo with a male friend without the world planning our wedding is... tiresome.”

She grimaces slightly, guilt in her expression over the fact that she’s definitely made a couple of light jokes over the past few days. “I’m really sorry, Kurt. We shouldn’t be adding to all of that.”

He nods, smiling, accepts the apology. And then, to let her know that they’re okay, he says, “I’d love to come to the beach. And I’ll bring my boyfriend.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly and they laugh, and then they look back out at the ocean again.

- - - - - 

Kurt’s not sure if this is exactly his ideal way of eating dinner, but there is something about the content feeling of it that is appealing.  

A group of them had piled into cars after work and wound down the hill until they'd reached the water’s edge, with Kura planning to meet them there with the food. Once she'd found them and called, “Kai’s here,” everyone had gone about setting up picnic blankets on the sand and putting out bread and tomato sauce and untangling the newspaper-wrapped bundle.  

And it’s not like Kurt’s never had fish and chips before, but there’s something about this meal that feels like a ritual and a tradition. There’s a certain way about it, as if feeling this airy and easy and happy whilst sharing food with friends on the ground with the waves lapping nearby is how it should always be.

“Come on, try a chip butty.”

Kurt looks at Blaine, unimpressed, “A chip what-y?”

Blaine smiles at him in such a goofy way that it makes Kurt want to shake his head in disbelief – how can this man’s silliness be so effortlessly charming? It’s infuriating. And endearing. He always comes back to endearing.

“A chip butty,” he clarifies, even though he knows just as well as Kurt that he heard him the first time. He holds out his own butty to punctuate his point.

“I have no desire to put fried potato inside of white bread and drown it in ketchup, but thank you,” and he means that, but he says it kindly.  

Blaine mocks hurt, “Kurt, you’re breaking my heart.”

“Alert the media,” he mutters under his breath, a little bitterly but Blaine doesn’t seem to catch it. He says the next bit more purposefully, “Will New Zealand forgive me if I don’t indulge in its weird potato sandwich?”

“It’s actually a British thing,” he frowns, realising that the whole thing stems from colonization and he decides to stop pushing for Kurt to try it.  

After all of the eating has slowed down, two of the camera boys that were sitting on the other side of the giant arrangement of picnic blankets suddenly get up and race each other into the water, splashing and yelling and laughing. One by one, everyone else follows them until it’s just Kurt, Blaine, and Kura standing over them, asking them if they’re coming in.  

“I’m not really a salt water person,” Kurt says.  

Blaine looks at him for a moment like he wants to question that or push for him to go in the water, but then something shifts and he turns back to Kura, “Go, have fun, Ku. We’ll look after everyone’s stuff.”

Kura doesn’t seem too bothered and heads off, striping down to her bra and shorts as she goes. Kurt laughs fondly at her carefreeness, and lays back on the blanket. It feels nice to not really care about the sand getting in his hair, and it’s his contribution to the carefreeness.  

“I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting about- about the article.”  

Kurt turns his head sharply, looking up at Blaine who is still sitting upright, knees pulled to his chest now, arms wrapped around them. Clearly Blaine is not participating in the carefreeness. He can only see the side of his face as he’s keeping his eyes on the sea, but it looks concerned and worried and more remorseful than is probably warranted. It's not like he wrote the article himself.  

“Blaine, it’s-”

“It’s not, Kurt.” Blaine says, shaking his head slightly but not turning it, almost stubbornly. “It’s not okay. I’m sure you deal with that kind of shit all the time and I shouldn’t be trivialising it.”

Kurt takes a deep breath in and lets that sit between for a moment. “Thank you,” he says on the exhale, because that really does mean a lot. The fact that Blaine’s so self-reflective and caring doesn’t help Kurt in his effort to stop the part of him that wishes the tabloids were right. He looks at Blaine and he wonders why they’re not, what’s stopping him from turning the rumours into reality. “I guess there are worse people for the world to think I’m having a summer fling with.”

Blaine finally looks at him and there is something in his eyes for a second, and then whatever it is clears until it’s just joy and stars and ease - and Kurt realises that the ease is the reason for the not doing anything about it just yet - and he chuckles.  

And then he lays down next to Kurt, mirroring his position half in the sand, and they watch the sky flick through different hues of blue until it settles on a darkness that's still kind of light enough. They talk, and sometimes they don't - just listen to the squealing still coming from their friends in the water. And it's during one of those moments when they're not talking that he wonders how long it's going to take him to figure out the ease.

He hopes it won't take too long.

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Klaine Advent 2020 (day 6)

Summary: Kurt and Blaine listen to some Christmas music

Notes: Song featured is Christmas Tree Farm by Taylor Swift. Not only does it fit today's prompt but also happens to the one-year anniversary of this adorable Christmas tune. Enjoy!

AO3

Day Six: Farm

Blaine rarely daydreamed about his future. He knew Kurt had been planning his wedding since he was four and he often saw their future together in ways Blaine hadn’t even begun to think about. Blaine always thought of himself as someone who lived in the present. He preferred laying on the floor of his bedroom with Kurt at his side and the radio playing as they talked about their days.

Those times weren’t too far behind them because the two husbands were lounging on the couch cushions that had been shattered around the living room. Blaine has music playing on his phone and they were talking about their plans for tomorrow.

“When was the last time we had a snow day?” Kurt asks.

“Two years ago.”

There was a blizzard outside covering the streets of the city with white fluff. The school had called Blaine canceling classes for all students and faculty so Kurt had called Isabelle and told her he was taking the day even if Vogue.com was open for business. Then, he joined his husband on the floor and put on some Christmas music.

“Fitting that it’s the week before Christmas too. Do you think it’ll be a white Christmas this year?” Blaine questions.

“Maybe, we should wear our pajamas inside out to make sure.”

“What pajamas?” Blaine replies, cheekily.

Kurt grabs at Blaine pulling his body closer and kisses him. They pull away when the song ends because Blaine has to dance with his husband for this one.

My winter nights are taken up by static Stress, and holiday shopping traffic But I close my eyes, and I'm somewhere else Just like magic

Blaine pulls Kurt up from the floor and into his arms. They sway for the moment content to rest their heads on each other’s shoulders as the music is soft and slow like the opening to a black and white Christmas movie.

When the music picks up and changes into something happier and fast paced, Blaine starts a much sillier, unplanned dance. They move around each other trying to make themselves laugh.

In my heart is a Christmas tree farm Where the people would come To dance under sparkling lights Bundled up in their mittens and coats And the cider would flow And I just wanna be there tonight

Kurt pulls his husband towards him and spins them as if they were playing a game of ring around the rosy. Their cheeks are going to hurt from smiling so much. When was the last time they goofed off together? 

When had life gotten in the way of fun? 

Right here tonight, with Blaine holding onto his hands reminiscence of their wedding ceremony, Kurt makes another promise. This time to himself. 

He won’t let their busy lives–Blaine’s grading and lesson planning and Kurt’s fashion emergencies and photoshoots–get in the way of them. Because Blaine is the most important thing in his life and nothing, not even Vogue, will get in the way of Kurt loving Blaine the way he deserves.

Sweet dreams of holly and ribbon Mistakes are forgiven And everything is icy and blue And you would be there too Under the mistletoe Watching the fire glow And telling me, "I love you"

By this point in the song, the two husbands are back in each other’s arms. Kurt is holding Blaine up because the other man has almost collapsed in his arms. His head is resting on top of Blaine’s, which landed on one of Kurt’s shoulders. 

Kurt tilts his head so his lips move against Blaine’s ear. No one else is in the apartment. No one will overhear him. But Kurt wants to make sure Blaine knows this is just for him. 

“I love you.”

Just being in your arms Takes me back to that little farm Where every wish comes true

There is no safer place in the world than when Blaine is curled up in his husband’s arms. The song may not be over, maybe Blaine had pressed replay, but they had finished their dance break. They were back on the floor this time both resting on the same cushions. 

Three cushions under him, Kurt was fully stretched out with open arms he motioned for Blaine to join him. Blaine carefully crawled into Kurt’s side adjusting himself so one of his legs rested between both of Kurt’s. His head was on Kurt’s chest right under his chin. Kurt ran one of his hands up and down Blaine’s back. 

“I love you too.” 

Blaine closes his eyes and just listens to Kurt’s steady heartbeat.  

And when I'm feeling alone You remind me of home Oh baby, baby, Merry Christmas

Maybe Blaine didn’t spend his childhood dreaming about his future because a young Blaine Anderson could never have imagined something as wonderful as Kurt. Not in his wildest dreams would Blaine have come up with this beautiful man. How lucky was he that Kurt represented his past in Ohio and held his future in his arms?

“You’re lucky that my future is literally in my arms,” Kurt tells him.

“I said that out loud?”

“Yes, you did.”

Kurt kisses the top of Blaine’s head.

[gorgxoxus]

Scorching Summer Heat (at Christmastime): Klaine Advent Day 6: Farm:

Also on AO3. There is more info on AO3 again if you want to look at that. 

I like this chapter and things happen so it’s quite a lot longer than normal. Also i’ve started writing dialogue so hopefully it flows a little better. 

Kurt lets him know the kiosk is closed today because the family is preparing for the carols tonight so he heads straight down to the beach for a swim. The beach is busy with teenagers who have finished school for the year so he heads straight for the water and has a quick dip. He quickly dries himself off, puts his shirt back on and heads for the café on the corner. He still needs his coffee fix even if he can’t get it from the kiosk.

When he gets back Quinn and Tina remind him they’re heading to the farmers market in half an hour so he has a shower, puts a tiny bit of product in his hair and gets changed. Once he’s dressed he goes into the living room and asks, “Are you girls ready yet?”

“A couple more minutes,” shouts Tina,

He checks his messages and finds a couple from his parents when Quinn and Tina open their bedroom door and they walk towards the beachfront path that heads to the next suburb.  

Blaine asks, “what are we planning on getting,” and Quinn lists all the veggies they want and Tina budges in with,

“I need a souvlaki,” Blaine agrees, half the reason they go to this farmers market is the top-notch souvlakis. The other half of the reason is that it has cheap produce. He also goes for the best bread he’s ever had. If he moves away from here he will miss the amazing white sourdough he buys every week.  

There is remains of keep 1.5 metres apart signs in the farmers markets but no one is following them anymore after months and months of no cases. They buy their souvlaki’s first, Blaine getting beef and Quinn and Tina sharing a chicken one, because as much as Tina loves them she cannot eat a whole one. Quinn asks to find a seat and they eat them before going in search of the best bread and produce.

Quinn gets up and says, “go find the bread you love, we’ll get some vegetables,” with a knowing smile. He is unsurprised she knows him so well and heads to the sourdough booth. He gets the bread and heads to the produce section near the back to see them still looking for what they want. They are holding hands and talking between themselves so he waits back and looks at some pumpkins while they grab their produce and go up to the register. He joins them there with a small “Hi”. Once everything is packed into their cloth bags they head back to the apartment.

4pm:

Kurt: if you are not busy I could do with some help with set up. We are at the amphitheatre.

Blaine: i’m not busy.

Blaine: i’ll walk down

Blaine: see you in 15 mins.

Blaine peaks his head into Tina and Quinn’s room and says,  “I’m going down to the beach to help Kurt with carols set up” and Quinn responds with, “Ok, we will message when we get there.”

He heads down the steps of the amphitheatre and sees Kurt, Burt, Finn and about thirty others around, some looking busier than others. When he gets to the bottom Kurt comes up and says, “thanks for coming,”

“No worries”.

Kurt asks him to help Finn grab another speaker from the caravan around the corner as one is not working. Finn leads him to the caravan and they find the speaker in question and when Finn picks it up he nearly drops it.

“Kurt sent you too because I cannot be trusted holding important things,” Fin says with a laugh so Blaine grabs the other side of the speaker and leads them back towards the top of the steps. Someone quickly walks up to them and takes the speaker off them so they head back down the stairs.

“Mate, do you have a Santa hat?” Finn asks and Blaine looks at him and says,

“No?”

“Kurt your boyfriend doesn’t have a Santa hat,” shouts Finn in Kurt’s direction,

“He’s not my boyfriend,” says Kurt shooting Finn a dirty look and coming up to them.

“Why do you talk about him all the time then?” asks Finn and then if Kurt wasn’t already completely red in the face he is now.  

Blaine looks at Kurt and says, “you talk about me all the time?” and Kurt gives him a look that is much kinder than the one he gave his brother.

Kurt then jumps into action and says, “Blaine come with me, I need someone to help me move the food from the kiosk.” He can hear Finn quietly saying ‘I was trying to help’ as Kurt leads him towards the building.  

Kurt grabs the key from his pocket and opens up the back door of the kiosk into the mini kitchen, that is mostly just a bench and fridge. Kurt seems pretty intent on ignoring his brothers comments and gets him to take some plastic wrapped sandwiches back over as Kurt organises the rest of the food.

Blaine finds Burt and he lets him know where the sandwiches go. He heads back to the kiosk.

When he gets back Kurt has got all the food out and they walk back together carrying cookies, cakes and chips. Kurt does an extra trip back to the kiosk for a few more items and locks it up and Finn comes up to Blaine and gives him a Santa hat and shifts his feet as he apologises for his comments earlier. Blaine reminds him he should really apologise to Kurt and watches as people start arriving and grabbing their seats.

When Kurt comes back he asks if there is something other than small sandwiches for dinner and Kurt walks over to a cooler to grab two containers and some forks.

“Would you like a chicken salad?”

Blaine nods his head and takes one of the containers and a fork from Kurt as he quickly asks his father, “Do you need any help from us?”

“No, we are going to save some seats so meet us back here in half an hour,” Burt replies.

Kurt turns to Blaine and asks, “Do you want to sit on the grass over here to eat?”

signalling to the area looking over the beachfront and Blaine replies, “Yes.”

They get seated and open their containers. Blaine asks about the set up and Kurt goes on about speakers, the fake Santa Claus they blew up, the singers and the food. He has a light in his eyes talking about the preparations Blaine hasn’t seen yet and makes him happy to witness.

“I haven’t been to Carols by Candlelight in five years, I feel like I am a kid doing all this again,” Kurt says, taking a breath and Blaine says,

“I’ve been to carols before, but this one seems a lot more fun than the old stuffy church carol services I went to as a kid,”

“I am not a fan of Church services, but I am happy to sing some Christian songs to experience the joy of Carols by Candlelight.”

They lull into a silence to focus on eating.

When they are finished they still have about ten minutes until Burt wanted them back so Blaine says, “It’s cute that you talk about me all the time,” he watches him blush as Kurt says, “you made an impression,”

“I’m glad I did and so did you,” and catches Kurt’s eyes on him, looking back. The air crackles between them and Blaine scoots forward a bit, so he’s much closer to Kurt than before. Kurt puts a hand on his cheek and they continue to look at each other and then Kurt leans in and captures his mouth in a kiss. It’s a little off-centre so Blaine corrects it and just kisses him until he runs out of breath. Blaine drops his head for a second and then looks up to see Kurt staring at him. He quickly looks to the side to see Burt walking towards them so he scrambles out of his lap into a less compromising position. Kurt is intent on ignoring his Dad as they walk to the amphitheatre together and take their seats next to each other. They sit brushing their hands against each-others until Blaine grabs onto Kurt’s and doesn’t let go.

To Tina and Quinn at 5:35pm:

Blaine: sitting with kurts family

Blaine: also kurt kissed me

Quinn: WHOOP WHOOP

Quinn: Tina says YESSSSSSSS

Tina: YESSSSSSSSSS

Quinn: Also we are 5 minutes away

[honeysucklepink]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Glee Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, Sam Evans Summary:

Something different for the Klaine Advent this year...I'm challenging myself to drabbles again, but instead of a full story, these will be various holiday scenes taking place "in these uncertain times" (ugh)!

Rating might change depending on the inspiration!

Chapter 6: Farm Blaine pulled his cupcake decorations out of the oven. “Um, honey? These little discs don’t look right.”

“Let me see.” Kurt poked at the burnt glops of what had once been butterscotch candies on the baking sheet. “Um, where did you get this recipe?”

“From YouTube. Think the channel was called So Yummy?”

Kurt blanched. “Oh, you mean one of those content farms? Blaine those tricks don’t really work, they edit them and post them strictly for clicks. Here, I’ll show you.” He pulled out his phone and brought up a debunking video.

Blaine frowned. “Old school frosting it is.”

[kriskubed]

Blaine watched Kurt go with a chuckle. He’d miss his company, but if Rachel and Cooper were as similar as Kurt had suggested, he knew what it was like to be in his shoes right now. He took Kurt’s abandoned gingerbread man and stood him up beside his own outside their chalet (they made an adorable couple if he did say so himself) and then got up to mingle for a bit. 

He soon found himself near the tree in the middle of a debate over real versus artificial Christmas trees. “Nothing beats a farm-fresh tree, I don’t care what anyone says” was followed closely by “But we’re in the middle of the city, even the real trees aren’t all that fresh.”

Blaine was looking for a subtle way to extricate himself from the conversation when he heard Cooper’s voice rise above the din. He rolled his eyes when Cooper made a point of referring to him as “little brother” but gladly agreed to provide some music for the party. 

As he settled himself in front of the piano at last, a small crowd began to gather around him. He was happy to note that Kurt was among them and smiled in his direction when Kurt caught his eye.

“I’ll begin in a moment, but first, a toast. To Cooper and Rachel and all of you here tonight who helped make this movie… Congratulations!”

The other guests echoed their congratulations and raised their glasses in celebration as Blaine finally rested his hands on the piano keys and began to play. He opened with Silver Bells since it was in fact Christmastime in the city. A chorus of other voices joined him but one stood out clear and bright among the rest. Kurt hadn’t mentioned that he could sing, but Blaine was captivated. 

He made his way through some Christmas standards that he knew everyone would be able to sing along to and guests came and went, joining in for a song or two and then drifting away again. Rachel seemed to want to stay, but Blaine knew from Cooper that they had both agreed to live tweet during the premiere and respond to fans on social media afterwards to help promote the movie, and she too tore herself away after a few songs. But Kurt stayed in his spot by the side of the piano.

Blaine was a seasoned enough performer to make everyone around the piano feel included, but in truth most of his attention was focused on Kurt. After a while it felt almost as if he were playing just for Kurt and that they were singing to each other. They exchanged smiles across the piano and Blaine couldn’t help tossing a wink Kurt’s way as he sang the lyric “make the yuletide gay” during Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Eventually he worked up the nerve to make a request. 

“For this next song, I’ll need a duet partner. Kurt, I have a feeling you’ll know it. Would you join me?”

[worldoflis]

Office Romance (6/24)

Written for the Klaine Advent 2020, day 6: Farm 667 words

So - I learned a thing the other day and it shook me to my core...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

---

The next Sunday morning it’s already nearing eleven by the time Blaine and Kurt make it out of the house. They didn’t exactly sleep in -Kurt in particular has an extremely strong biological clock that wakes him up at 6.45am sharp each morning- but, well, it was a lazy Sunday morning, after all. And thus the sun is already as high up in the sky as she goes on a cold, clear December day when they step out of their building, wrapped in gloves and scarfs and -in Kurt’s case- fashionable if not entirely practical ear muffs that only cover Kurt’s ears but at least doesn’t leave him with horrible flat hair when he gets back inside.

Their local farmer’s market is just around the corner from their apartment, and it’s a common Sunday outing for them. For one, Blaine insists on buying as much local and seasonal produce as he can, and Kurt is happy to indulge him if it means that Blaine does the bulk of the cooking in their household. Mostly, though, it’s just nice to stroll between the stands, take in the sounds and the smells and just enjoy the hustle and bustle that the market generates.

“So, I was thinking,” Blaine says, as they stroll past the burly, beardy bee guy who takes one look at their linked arms and winks at them. “I could do a pesto and kale pasta tomorrow, a Brussels sprouts casserole with bacon for Tuesday and Wednesday, and then maybe some oven dish for the end of the week?”

“Yest to the kale, veto for the Brussels sprouts,” Kurt tells him, and Blaine sputters, letting go of Kurt and coming to a stop in front of him.

“B-b-but… Brussels sprouts!”

“No.”

“Not even with bacon?”

“Not even with bacon.”

“They’ll be the best Brussels sprout you’ve ever had,” Blaine swears, grabbing Kurt’s hands and looking up at him with pleading eyes, but Kurt shakes his head decidedly.

“That’s what you said last time – and the time before. No. I am done. No more Brussels sprouts. They’re the devil’s produce and the entire species belongs in hell.”

“The… entire species?” Blaine asks, eyebrows raised, and Kurt sticks up his chin.

“The entire species. Every single one of them.”

“You… do realize that also means no kale, right?”

Kurt frowns at that.

“What does kale have to do with Brussels sprouts?”

“It’s the same plant,” Blaine tells him, a hint of surprise in his voice as he catches Kurt’s eye. “You do understand that kale and Brussels sprouts are variations of the same plant, right?”

“No, they’re not,” Kurt says confidently. Because they’re not. Because any idiot can see that the only thing kale and Brussels sprouts have in common is their color. But Blaine is looking at him with amusement in his eyes, and Kurt gets a sinking feeling that he’s about to learn something he’s never wanted to know.

“Kale, Brussels sprouts, broccoli, cabbage, kohlrabi, … they’re the same species,” Blaine continues, and with each veggie, Kurt’s feeling of dread grows.

“No, they’re not,” he says once more, though a lot less confident than a minute ago. “They’re on a sliding scale from delightful heavenly broccoli to terrible hell sprouts and I will not have you insult broccoli like that!”

He’s getting flustered, he knows, the heat in his cheeks rising, and it doesn’t help that Blaine is smiling at him as if he’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“It’s not true,” he tries again feebly, and Blaine raises up Kurt’s hands his been holding, pressing a kiss against them. “You… you take it back. Take it back. It’s NOT true.”

“Oh honey…”

“I… I refuse to believe this… blasphemy.”

“Of course, honey…”

They’ve started walking again, Blaine dragging Kurt a little as he’s still trying to process this new information. And when they arrive at their favorite veggie stand and Blaine orders a bushel of kale and a pound of Brussels sprouts, Kurt doesn’t protest.

---

Grey

[invisibleraven]

The Klainemas Waltz

A bit of a shorter one today, and I'm diverging a bit from the movie's plot so I don't go through the whole thing before we get through the month.

Day Six: Farm

Blaine kept his glance out the window, taking in the countryside as they passed. He saw quaint little farms, tiny cottages, sprawling fields, all covered in a white layer of snow. They received a fair amount of snow in Gallwick, but it was rare for him to get to enjoy it nowadays.

As a child, he had always enjoyed winter time, playing in the snow, spending the holidays with his family, and a break from school. Yet this would be their first Christmas without his father, and he felt the loss more deeply than ever. This had been King Maxwell’s favourite time of year, even if he had many obligations to celebrate with his countrymen, he always made time for his family.

Blaine smiled at the memory of the year they tried to make a Christmas dinner together, with his father burning the turkey, he over salted the vegetables, and his mother’s dessert was raw in the middle. They had laughed themselves blue that evening, and made a meal out of whatever they could salvage, as well as sneaking a few treats that had been meant for a party the following night.

Blaine recalled the year he was determined to buy his parents a present himself, saving his allowance, and loving how surprised they were by the warm scarves he had gotten them. A simple gift, to be sure, but they both proclaimed the scarves to be lovely and thoughtful. Pam was currently still wearing hers, and Maxwell’s was draped around Blaine’s own neck, though the scent of his father’s aftershave had long since faded from it’s threads.

He could feel the tears welling up, so Blaine shut his eyes once more, wishing them away, if only until he could shut himself away that evening and have a proper cry over the sadness clinging to this most wondrous time of year.

[forabeatofadrum]

24 days of December (6/24)

Notes: I figured it out! AO3 counts writing in sub- and superscript as a separate word. Word doesn’t. According to Word (and me) “1st” should be counted as one word, but AO3 sees “1″ and “st” as two words. This can be easily fixed by writing dates as “1st”.

Wat een gedoe.

AO3

--

FARM

Kurt and Blaine love New York. It’s truly the city of their dreams.

But sometimes, living in such a big city can be overwhelming, especially during the holidays. Blaine spends December 6th looking for a last-minute gift, but every place is crowded with shoppers.

Once he gets home, he says: “I’m gonna leave the city and move to a farm!”

“Uh, okay?”

“Think about it, Kurt. We can have a nice farmhouse and we can plant our own vegetables. Maybe we can start a restaurant!”

They both know they’ll never leave New York, but sometimes it is nice to dream.

[kurtstinypurse]

You’ve Got My Number [6/24]

Summary: Kurt hates music theory, and music theory hates him, too. He decides he needs a tutor if he doesn’t want to flunk out of NYADA, which he very much doesn’t, so - enter Blaine.

Meanwhile, warblersong and sirelphaba have been internet friends since the early days of social media, having met on the Broadway musical side of Twitter. Years later, they’re still friends - and years later, they barely know anything about each other.

By the next week, everything is more or less back to normal.

He gets his musical theater history paper turned in, which is a huge weight off of his shoulders, and he settles on a song with his private teacher for their end-of-semester studio showcase recital, and things begin to feel like they’re falling into place, like he’s going to make it here, after all.

Of course, Blaine is normal too, if a little awkward the first time they meet up after running into each other at Callbacks, but he warms up again quickly, and he’s as passionate and kind and charming and captivating and adorable as ever.

And Kurt can’t stop thinking about him, which - isn’t normal.

He’s too old to be like this, to have his thoughts constantly floating away from him and always landing in a place that’s sweet and warm and dreamy and not at all founded in reality.

But sometimes he closes his eyes and sees Blaine’s smile, lays in the quiet at night and hears his laugh, looks towards the sun in the sky and sees the gold of his eyes, and he can’t stop himself from doing it.

He’s not sure if he wants to stop himself - whether that makes him a masochist or just infatuated, he doesn’t know.

It keeps happening, though, and it’s happening now, even as Kurt tries to focus on the person talking to him, but he can’t stop thinking about the way Blaine’s eyelashes fluttered after he yawned during their last study session and the way he thanks Kurt so earnestly every single time Kurt buys him a silly, cheap cup of drip coffee and the way-

Wait.

Someone’s talking to him.

read the rest on ao3