1. 10:01 8th Oct 2011

    Notes: 808

    Tags: klaineficshun

    Kurt/Blaine shaving fic

    Based on the line in I am Unicorn, about Kurt not being suitable to play Miss Saigon when/if he ever starts shaving.

    He starts shaving. Blaine helps. Sort of.

    Rating: NC-17

    Warnings: Poorly researched shaving stuff.

    Length: ~4500

    Notes: aubreyli was my glorious beta for this and I love her to tiny, gorgeous pieces. This is also kind of my first official Klaine so go easy on me \o/

    Blaine gets the call at about ten in the morning on Sunday. He’s halfway down the stairs, on his way to some peanut butter Cap’n Crunch, when he hears Kurt’s ringtone go off back in his room.

    He runs for it.

    “Hello?” he answers eagerly, sprawled out over his bed to reach his phone on the far bedside table.

    I need your help,” Kurt says without preamble, voice high, breathy with excitement.

    Blaine rolls over onto his back, smiling at the ceiling and shifting his shoulder-blades back against the mattress. “With what?”

    Things.”

    The meaningful way Kurt says that one simple word gives him pause.

    Blaine stops his restless wiggling and looks down at the small piece of technology clutched in his hand. His voice, when he finds it, is embarrassingly deep. “Thing things?”

    What? No! I just- I need help… shaving.”

    Blaine mouth is suddenly very dry. “I thought you said it wasn’t thing things, Kurt,” he says in a daze.

    Oh my god, we’re not shaving my thing things, Blaine! Normal shaving! Face shaving!

    Blinking rapidly, Blaine bites his lip and figures his blush doesn’t count if no one can see it. “Oh. Why… wait, why do you need help shaving?”

    There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Blaine wonders absently if it’s a pause wherein Kurt is sucking his bottom lip in and looking embarrassed or if it’s one of those pauses where Kurt’s mouth is moving up and down indignantly while his brain comes up with something to say.

    I don’t…” Kurt begins, hesitance lacing his soft voice. “I don’t know how to do it right, without hurting my skin, you know? Or, I’m not sure, anyway. And I’d ask Dad but he’s already at the shop catching up on paperwork and plus the other morning he came down for breakfast with half a roll of toilet paper stuck to his face in little tiny pieces so I don’t know if I trust him anyway. And I just… I just want you here. With me.”

    Blaine sits up, eyes coming to rest on the picture of them he’s got on his bedside table, studying the soft contours of Kurt’s face in the photo. “You’ve never shaved before,” he breathes, the realization startlingly wonderful.

    Blaine Anderson, if you make fun of me or so much as allude to the expression ‘late bloomer’ I will pants you in the cafeteria, I swear to god.”

    “No!” Blaine hurries to reassure him, making useless soothing gestures at his phone. “No, I promise. I won’t.” He glances at his alarm clock. “I can be there in an hour. I’ll bring my kit.”

    Kurt lets out a shaky breath that crackles loudly over the line, and when he speaks again he sounds relieved. “Yeah?”

    “Absolutely. We’ll do it together. It’ll be great.” He’s already up, looking around distractedly for his shoes.

    Okay, that sounds… Blaine?”

    “Uh huh?” he answers, kicking over a pile of the clothes he’d worn the day before to reveal the wrong pair of loafers.

    I love you.”

    Blaine grins, forgetting his search and standing a little straighter, feeling his chest swell up with the breath he takes to tell Kurt, “I love you so much.”

    ***

    Blaine makes it to Kurt’s house in fifty three minutes.

    He’s wearing the wrong shoes.

    Kurt meets him at the door, smiling but blushing a little bit. He pulls Blaine across the threshold by the hand, fingers twining together, and tugs him close, until their noses almost bump and Blaine can feel Kurt’s breath when he whispers a soft, “Hi.”

    Blaine kisses him. It’s more than their usual hello kiss, but this is a special occasion and there’s blushing and Kurt hasn’t let go of his hand yet so he figures a little tongue is fine. Really, really fine.

    “You’re all stubbly,” Kurt says, once they pull back to catch their breath.

    Grinning, Blaine lifts his free hand and brushes his knuckles under his chin. “Not for long! Unless you think you wanna get used to it.” He waggles his eyebrows.

    Kurt just huffs and turns around, leading them up the stairs. “C’mon. Dad and Carole are both out, we can use their bathroom.”

    “Kinky,” Blaine says, laughing at Kurt’s disgruntled huff.

    “Gross,” Finn declares, appearing out of nowhere like some sort of Sasquatch, and lumbering across their path on his way from the kitchen. He’s hugging a massive bowl of Fruit Loops to his chest with one arm and using the other to scrape at his milk mustache with a giant wooden spoon.

    They watch as he tromps past them into the living room.

    “It’s funny, ‘cause he honestly has no idea,” Kurt sighs, head cocked and eyes watching Finn with an endearing mix of fondness and disgust.

    “C’mon,” Blaine tells him, making his way up the stairs, lifting Kurt’s hand in his and settling it against the small of his back.

    “I like your jeans,” Kurt says, words a little lower than usual.

    A thrill shoots through Blaine as he realizes that Kurt’s probably staring at his ass, liking what he sees.

    “Shoes could use a little work, though.”

    Blaine rolls his eyes.

    ***

    “Okay,” Kurt says spinning around and placing his hands on the countertop behind him, bending at the knee a slightly and looking at Blaine from underneath his eyelashes before bouncing back up to his full height. “This is it.”

    Blaine sets his shaving kit, a gift from his father upon his enrollment at Dalton, next to the sink and tugs at Kurt’s waist, drawing him in close. “Tilt your head back, I wanna see what we’re working with.”

    Kurt licks his lips and slowly leans back, baring his throat for Blaine. “I plucked,” he says softly, and Blaine shifts his gaze from the pale column of Kurt’s neck to his eyes just as they flutter closed. “There weren’t that many. I hardly noticed at first, just a few thick hairs right under my chin, a little darker than the other ones, so I plucked them. I didn’t want to worry about skin irritation or whether or not aftershave actually burns as much as everyone says it does. But I just kept getting more, and now they’re lower, all the way down here.” He lifts a hand from the counter and brings his fingers up to touch gently at the slight swell of his Adam’s apple. “Plucking them all is getting kind of ridiculous and I was actually contemplating waxing before I realized, hey, I can shave.” Kurt lets out a nervous, low giggle, causing his throat to move against his fingertips, Adam’s apple bobbing, more pronounced.

    Blaine smiles and leans forward, kissing fleetingly along Kurt’s jaw line and scrubbing a thumb up his throat, feeling all the individual hairs prickling at the whorls of his thumbprint, catching under his nail when he twists his wrist and keeps going. Kurt swallows against his pressing fingers and Blaine just has to keep kissing.

    “Blaine,” Kurt sighs, tipping his head back even more and clutching tightly at Blaine’s shoulders as Blaine works his way down until he’s mouthing Kurt’s throat. “How exactly is this helping me shave?”

    “Mapping out the grain,” Blaine murmurs without removing his lips. “Figuring out which way the hair grows. Essential part of shaving.”

    “Is it- oh! Is it really?”

    “Mmhmm.”

    “Is doing it with your lips necessary as well?” Kurt asks, fingers moving from Blaine’s shoulders to his hair as he bends his head to the side.

    “One of the most sensitive parts of the body,” Blaine points out, thoughts traveling from lips to Kurt’s lips, and then to how excellent Kurt’s lips feel against his own. He moves up and kisses him, sucking Kurt’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling at it playfully before backing off. “See?” he says, panting slightly and smiling at Kurt’s blushing cheeks.

    “Sensitive,” Kurt agrees, voice airy and lips red. His eyes refocus on Blaine and then narrow. “I highly doubt that was in any way conducive to shaving.”

    “Well it was conducive to other things,” Blaine mutters, stroking his hands down Kurt’s sides.

    “Other things which we aren’t doing because we are shaving right now,” Kurt tells him. He leans in close, and Blaine expects a kiss but gets nuzzled instead, Kurt’s cheek pressing firmly to his, scraping them close until his breath is hot in Blaine’s ear, “Please?”

    Blaine steadies himself with a grip on Kurt’s hips. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Anything.

    “Okay.” Kurt smiles, backs up and leans against the counter, turning to glance at Blaine’s kit. “So what’s first?”

    “Hot water,” Blaine recites dutifully. “We need to prep your skin.” Blaine turns the hot tap on and gestures to a hand towel hanging next to the mirror. Kurt hands it over wordlessly. Blaine waits until the water issuing from the faucet is steaming before soaking the towel. “You might want to sit down, and you’re gonna want to lean back.

    Kurt looks around, wrinkling his nose at the toilet but lowering the lid and plopping down gracefully anyway, legs folding together and hands resting on his highest knee.

    Blaine shuts the tap off and wrings the towel out, stepping over to Kurt. Kurt meets Blaine’s gaze and holds it for a moment before closing his eyes, leaning his head back, and uncrossing his legs.

    Blaine licks his lips, blinking against the slightly humid air and stepping between Kurt’s knees. He folds the towel and presses it to Kurt’s face. Draping it over Kurt’s chin, Blaine wraps it upwards, smoothing it over Kurt’s sideburns and making sure it isn’t covering his nose. “Okay?” he asks softly, and Kurt nods. “We need to wait until it’s cooled off,” Blaine explains absently, fingers running firmly across the towel, tucking it against Kurt’s skin, rubbing his thumbs over Kurt’s chin and sliding his palms up the gentle slant of his cheeks. “You can also just shave right after a shower,” Blaine adds, his fingers dancing delicately across Kurt’s covered lips.

    His back starts feeling tight from bending over at the awkward angle, and Blaine clears his throat. “I’m just gonna… get, uh, a little closer; hang on.” He plants a knee gingerly in the V of Kurt’s inner thighs, leaning his weight onto the hard plastic of the toilet lid and pressing in close. Kurt keeps his eyes shut but brings a steadying hand up to Blaine’s elbow as Blaine slings his other leg over Kurt’s thigh, settling down astride it and trying to keep his breathing steady. He continues to smooth his fingers over the towel, lightly massaging Kurt’s half-hidden face, even though all he can really think of is how, when he leans forward the top of his knee grazes the warm denim stretched tight across Kurt’s… across Kurt’s parts. He lets out an involuntary noise, too strangled to be an actual groan, but it’s close enough for Kurt to snap his eyes open.

    “It’s cool,” Blaine says immediately, eyes wide. He swallows and backs off, standing up. “The… towel.”

    Kurt sits up and tips his face forward, letting the towel drop into his waiting hands. He lays it out on the counter, folding it over into the bowl of the sink. “What’s next?”

    “The ah… Soap! Soap is next.” Blaine stammers, turning away and fumbling a little with the zipper on the small leather case before he gets it open. He takes out the soap dish and hands it to Kurt without looking at him while he rummages around for the brush.

    “Is it supposed to be stuck to the bowl like this?” Kurt asks. When Blaine looks up Kurt is picking at the small, round disc of soap with one finger.

    “What? Uh, I don’t… actually know if that matters.” He takes the soap dish and hands Kurt the brush instead, running the hot tap again and then holding the soap briefly under the stream. When he looks back up, Kurt is rolling the bristles of the brush against his cheek with his eyes closed. 

    Blaine watches for a moment, transfixed, and then attempts to shake the no-doubt dopey smile from his face. “Like that, do you?”

    “It’s kind of amazing,” Kurt admits, opening his eyes and blushing almost imperceptibly. He hands the brush back with a quiet, “Here.”

    “Badger,” Blaine says, taking the brush and swirling it across the soap, lathering it up.

    “I’m sorry?”

    “The brush, it’s badger fur… hair. I don’t know, but it’s badger.” The rounded wooden handle of the brush slips through his tense fingers and he splashes some foam across the mirror in his haste to catch it once more. “Oh! Um… sorry, I can get that-”

    “It’s fine, we’ll get it later,” Kurt says softly, stopping his movements with a hand on his wrist. “Show me how the soap works.”

    “Right,” Blaine takes a calming breath. “Right. So, up here?” he gestures in front of him at the sink.

    “Yeah.” Kurt hops up, wiggling onto the counter, and tilts his head back without being prompted.

    Blaine presses his tongue down hard against his lower lip and lifts the brush up, rolling it in his fingers and swiping it over Kurt’s jaw, halfway up his cheeks and over his lips, laughing quietly when Kurt scrunches up his nose. “Little higher,” he says softly, gently tipping Kurt’s chin up with a finger. It’s only when he’s stroking the brush down Kurt’s throat that he realizes how heavily they’re both breathing.

    “How’s it look?” Kurt asks once Blaine sets the brush down. He scoots back a little further on the table, cocking his head to the side and lifting his eyebrows. He looks kind of ridiculous, with his perfect hair and his snow-white painted-on beard.

    Blaine smiles. “Perfect.”

    “Yeah?” Kurt leans forward.

    “Yeah.”

    “Kiss me, then,” Kurt dares, his smirk half-buried under the generous lather.

    Blaine meets him without hesitation, stretching forward and bringing their lips together, feeling the foam squish up and tickle his nose. “You smell like soap,” he murmurs, once he breaks the kiss.

    “Taste like it, too, I bet,” Kurt replies, bopping Blaine on the nose, swiping a spot of lather off and reapplying it to his upper lip with a quirk of his eyebrows.

    “Little bit, yeah,” Blaine sighs happily, nestling closer in between Kurt’s legs and smiling up at him, arms fitting around his waist like they were meant to go there.

    “C’mon, no,” Kurt urges, grabbing Blaine’s wrists from where they’re crossed behind his back and bringing them around to his chest. “Shaving, Blaine.”

    Clearing his throat, Blaine wipes the rest of the foam off his face and steps back. “Shaving, right.” He brushes his hands together and peers into the bag on the counter. “We need a razor.”

    “Is it a Sweeny Todd razor?” Kurt asks, hopping a little, and Blaine gets distracted for a moment by the way his ass bounces pertly atop the counter.

    “Um, yeah.” He tears his gaze away from Kurt’s ass squashed against the hard marble surface and pulls the razor out the bag. “Well, it’s killed fewer people. Probably.”

    “Lemme see,” Kurt insists, reaching out and plucking it from Blaine’s fingers before Blaine can open it. He flicks it open with a curious gleam in his eye, scraping his thumb over the blade.  

    “No impromptu musical performances,” Blaine instructs, carefully extracting the blade from Kurt’s exploring hands. “This is serious business.”

    “Musicals are always serious business,” Kurt tells him. He looks so indignant, sitting by the sink with his slightly smudged beard of lather. Blaine can’t help but laugh.

    “Hop down,” Blaine instructs, tapping him on the thigh and taking a step back so he has room to do it. Kurt complies, letting Blaine maneuver him until they’re both facing the mirror. “I think… I think I should do it first, it can take a while to get the hang of it,” Blaine suggests softly, stroking a palm down one of Kurt’s arms.

    “Of course,” Kurt answers easily, as though it hadn’t even been a question. He locks eyes with Blaine in the mirror. “You want a box to stand on, or-”

    “Watch it,” Blaine warns, stepping close and hooking his chin over Kurt’s shoulder. He slips an arm around Kurt’s waist and wiggles the razor at the mirror. “I have a sharp object and I know how to use it.”

    Kurt just raises an eyebrow and hums a line from My Friends.

    Blaine rolls his eyes and eyes their positions in the mirror. “Okay, you are actually gonna have to spread your legs a little.”

    “We’re shaving, Blaine. Remember?” Kurt smirks.

    “Or just- I… Bend them, maybe?” Blaine says helplessly, annoyed at how easily he lets himself get flustered.

    Kurt just hums out a laugh and walks his feet apart until Blaine can reach him at the right angle. “Okay,” Blaine attempts to say, accidentally turning it into a whisper. He tries again, “Okay, first pass, with the grain.”

    “I thought it was against?” Kurt asks, eyes finding Blaine’s in the mirror.

    “With, sideways, against,” Blaine says vaguely, getting lost in the captivating jumble of colors in Kurt’s eyes.

    “…Blaine?”

    “Sorry, sorry. Okay.” Blaine tips Kurt’s head back as he presses his chest forward, leaning them both closer to the mirror. “Hold still, okay?” Kurt lets out a low noise of agreement, and in the space of a moment his eyes go from wide and curious to relaxed, slitted almost lazily as he tilts his head even further, until it’s very nearly resting against Blaine’s shoulder.

    Kurt’s voice is high and sweet when he announces to Blaine’s reflection, a soft quirk to his lips, “I’m ready.”

    Blaine takes a deep breath and touches his fingers to the base of Kurt’s throat, pulling his hot skin taut and angling the glinting blade just beneath his chin.

    The first stroke is barely an inch long, the scrape and catch of the hair muted by the foam but still audible. Blaine imagines he can feel the friction amplifying in the metal, vibrating up the length of the handle and into his clutching fingers. They both exhale when Blaine takes the blade away and wipes each side on the damp hand towel laid across the counter. “Okay?” Blaine asks, eyes seeking Kurt’s out in their reflection.

    Kurt nods. His skin stretches under Blaine’s fingertips as he swallows. “Keep going.”

    Blaine swallows in sympathy and complies, grazing the razor across Kurt’s tender skin again and again, working it delicately around the contours of his chin, slipping it carefully, so carefully, down Kurt’s upper lip, breath held tight for every stroke.

    By the time he’s done with the first pass they’re both flushed and Blaine is achingly hard in his jeans. He backs away from Kurt and blinks at the sink.

    “So that’s shaving,” Kurt breathes.

    Blaine nods, then shrugs, trying to subtly work his legs further apart. “The first part of it, anyway.” He sets the razor down on the towel and wipes it clean.

    “Two more times?” Kurt asks, arms braced against the counter.

    Blaine nods again, biting his lips together and turning the tap on once more, re-wetting the soap. He works it into a lather, carefully keeping his eyes trained on the dish as Kurt shifts restlessly beside him.

    “Blaine?”

    “Hmm?” Blaine whips the brush even faster.

    “Is everything okay?”

    “What?” he stops the furious movements of his wrist and turns to Kurt. “Of course, yeah. Why?”

    “You just seem… we don’t have to, you know. I could borrow my dad’s electric-”

    “No!” Blaine cuts him off hurriedly, “No, I want to, trust me. It’s just…”

    Kurt cocks his head and looks at him patiently.

    Blaine licks his lips and exhales slowly, reaching out until he feels the soft skin of Kurt’s wrist beneath his fingertips. “It’s just really… intimate.” Kurt continues to look at him, and Blaine presses on. “And, don’t get me wrong, because I love it, I love you; it’s just hard.” He closes his eyes and huffs a laugh at himself. “It’s difficult. To be so close to you, for you to be so- so open, and not-” Blaine cuts himself off, a blush burning across his cheeks.

    “And not?” Kurt whispers, and Blaine can feel him move closer. “Blaine are- oh,” Kurt breathes, going still for a moment before crowding in even closer, slotting a leg between Blaine’s thighs.

    Blaine lets the brush clatter into the sink and clutches at Kurt’s shoulders, hiding his eyes in Kurt’s neck and trying not to hyperventilate. “God, Kurt,” he whimpers, body shaking with the effort not to thrust, not to rub forward or roll his hips down.

    “To hell with shaving,” Kurt gasps, hands splaying across Blaine’s lower back. “Screw it, just- Blaine. Can- can we?”

    Please,” Blaine shudders the word out high in his throat, turning his head and latching on to Kurt’s neck with his lips, with his teeth, tasting clean skin beneath bitter soap.

    Kurt lets out a whine, surging forward, and then they’re stumbling back, caught only by the slam of Kurt’s palm against the wall. The sound cracks into the small room, loud in Blaine’s ear, shocking him into movement. He sucks and licks and bites his way up to Kurt’s lips, panting into his open mouth once he gets there and grinding down against his thigh.

    Blaine,” Kurt moans, scratching into Blaine’s hair with one hand and squirming the other between them, fumbling desperately with Blaine’s zipper. “Get the button, shit,” Kurt gasps. His knuckles bump and slide against the line of Blaine’s throbbing cock, trapped beneath the denim of his stupid jeans and why is he wearing clothes? Why do clothes exist?

    Blaine sucks Kurt’s lower lip between his teeth and scrabbles to undo his jeans. Their hands tangle together between them but somehow they manage to get both their flies undone. As soon as Kurt gets their zippers down, he shoves Blaine back against the wall and pushes his jeans and his underwear low on his hips and fuck, it feels so good. A relief. There’s a brief, terrifying moment when Blaine’s dick is bobbing between them and this is it, they’re doing this, they’re actually doing it, and then Kurt’s hand slips around him, holding him, squeezing.

    “Kurt,” Blaine sobs, voice high and thready.

    “Yeah,” Kurt whispers, pressing their lips together, hard, and sliding their lower bodies close as he lets go of Blaine. Kurt works his own pants down and thrusts, arms coming up and bracketing Blaine’s head, caging him against the wall.

    God, oh my god,” Blaine hears himself moan, fingers digging into Kurt’s newly-exposed ass and heaving him even closer, one leg hooking around his hips so he’ll stay there. The drag of Kurt’s hard flesh against his own is incredible. He can feel him. Blaine can feel him, feel the shape of him rutting against Blaine’s hip, the length of him, how hot he is, how desperate.

    Kurt bends his knees and thrusts again, shoving up, and Blaine squeezes his eyes shut and holds on. His head tips back, knocking against the wall, and Kurt swoops in, sucking at his neck as he rocks their hips together.

    Through the rushing in his ears and the sharp bolts of pleasure shooting through him with every thrust, Blaine manages to feel his stubble scrape across Kurt’s cheek.

    It’s a small sensation, almost trivial against the backdrop of Kurt’s dick shoving up against his own, of Kurt’s lips on Blaine’s neck, but it’s enough to tip him over the edge.

    He doesn’t go quietly.

    “Kurt!” he cries, arms dragging up to Kurt’s waist and pulling him in tight, holding him close as his hips pump up against him. Kurt shushes him, swallowing his loud, gusting breaths and rocking right back after every one of Blaine’s jagged thrusts. Blaine groans and slumps against him, and Kurt lowers them down, sliding Blaine down the wall and folding his knees under him as they tumble to the floor.

    Blaine lies, panting, against Kurt. It takes Blaine a few moments to halfway-collect himself, and the only thing that makes him lift his head from Kurt’s shoulder is the strange, sharp motions shocking through Kurt’s whole body.

    Kurt’s face is flushed, a little sweaty, and he’s biting his lip. Blaine glances down, following the line of Kurt’s rapidly pumping arm until- oh. “Stop!” Blaine urges, trying to make his uncooperative limbs work. “Stop, stop, stop, I wanna-” He wriggles down as Kurt slows the movements of his fist. “Let me,” he breathes, tangling their fingers together and removing Kurt’s hand altogether.  Kurt slumps back against the tiles with a groan, head landing on the bathmat with a fwump.

    Blaine pushes Kurt’s shirt up and nuzzles into him, inhaling the rich scent of Kurt and Kurt’s sex, marveling at the hot, bright redness of his cock. His cheeks scrape into the warm, close space between Kurt’s dick and his inner thigh. He’s slipping out his tongue to taste when Kurt grabs at his hair, moaning unintelligibly and pulling Blaine against him as he jerks his hips. Blaine can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t speak, shoved in tight to Kurt’s flushed hot skin, and he loves it, loves that they did this together, that Kurt got this way because of him. His hand fumbles up as he turns his head to watch, pressing searchingly against Kurt’s dick as it pulses. He feels and sees it twitch as his fingers wrap around it, gazing, rapt, as the last of Kurt’s come blurts slickly over the shiny head of his dick.

    Blaine wrings it from him, tightening his fist and twisting, swiping his tongue across it when it dribbles over his thumb.

    “Fuck,” Kurt whimpers, body going rigid as he shudders into Blaine’s grip one last time. Clawing at Blaine’s shoulders, he moans, “Fuck. Blaine, just- Come here. Up here.”

    Blaine crawls up, eyes on Kurt’s as he leans in to kiss him, mouth wide and tongue teasing, sharing the taste between them. Kurt straightens his legs out from where they’re bent awkwardly beneath him and tugs Blaine down, until they’re lying together, just breathing.

    “I’ll never be able to shave again,” Blaine says eventually, turning his face and tucking it under Kurt’s jaw, lips slack against his neck.

    “We should get cleaned up,” Kurt says, smile evident in his voice. He runs his fingers up Blaine’s back. “Before Finn decides to check on us.”

    “Oh god,” Blaine groans, laughing and curling up closer against Kurt.

    “C’mon, pants up,” Kurt nudges him, rolling him over and depositing him gently onto the floor.

    They clean up quietly, sharing smiles and sweet, tentative touches. Blaine lets Kurt tuck him back into his jeans, blushing and twitching a little when Kurt sucks his lips between his teeth and pats his zipper once it’s done up.

    They decide to save shaving for some other time, since Burt and Carole will be back soon and they need to change their shirts before anyone else sees the mess they’ve made of themselves.

    It isn’t until they’re downstairs, Blaine wearing the closest approximation to his shirt that Kurt had in his closet, that the reality of what they’ve done fully hits Blaine.

    “Dude, where’ve you been?” Finn asks, as they walk hand-in-hand to the living room.

    “Shaving,” Kurt answers, much too quickly and with his eyes too wide. His fingers tighten around Blaine’s.

    Finn looks up from his video game and peers at them suspiciously. “No offense, but, you kind of suck at it for taking so long.”

    Blaine laughs, and Kurt relaxes at his side. “Yeah, well,” Blaine shrugs, glancing slyly over at Kurt. “We just need more practice, is all.”

     
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