The box sinks to the kitchen floor a little harder than planned - they're out of space along the counter - and Kurt tries not to scream at the knowledge that there are still more left to go in the van. He loves this apartment, he really does; and more importantly, Blaine loves it, absolutely adores it.
But four flights of stairs?
Groaning, he turns and heads back into the hallway. His water bottle sits on the ledge by the top of the staircase and he grabs it instantly, slumping to sit on the top step and drinking almost all of it before pressing it against the flushed side of his face. He can feel his bangs and the hair on the back of his neck spiked with sweat and Kurt just wants to sleep forever. Reverse hibernation - out until the summer's over. There's no air conditioning, for crying out loud.
He's still there trying to gather his reserves of energy when Blaine gets back to the top, carrying a small but heavy-looking box (books, probably) that makes the muscles in his arms strain out thick against the surface of his sweating skin. As Blaine stops a step or two below him, Kurt barely even has the energy to ogle, and that's saying something, because everything about this that's gross and unattractive on Kurt is somehow, like, edible on his boyfriend. He finally manages to lift his head enough to look Blaine in the eye and smile sort of weakly. The smile he gets in return is funny, intriguing, and Kurt's mouth has not quite formed a sort of "wha?" syllable when Blaine sets the box down on the step next to him, takes the hem of his ratty casual t-shirt, and uses it to wipe the dripping sweat from Kurt's brow.
The view it affords Kurt of Blaine's stomach is really, really amazing, dark hair trailing down into his basketball shorts, the muscles there quivering slightly from the day's exerted effort, and Kurt just can't help himself. He takes the T-shirt from Blaine in one hand, slides the other around the back of his thigh just under the curve of his ass, and leans into the line of Blaine's stomach just above his waistband, not kissing or nuzzling but just pressing his face into the hot tense skin, feeling it coarse against his own and taking in the thick rich smell of him. He feels Blaine's hair flutter a little against his nose as he exhales.
Oh yeah, Kurt remembers, as he does three or four times a day, and it's incredible and almost unbelievable every time - oh yeah, I am going to live with this man.
Blaine strokes one hand lightly around the back of Kurt's sweat-matted hair and, chuckling softly, kneels down on the step below Kurt, so they're level. Kurt's legs fall open around him at once to let him closer, and with his hands loose around Kurt's waist, Blaine kisses him, slow and hot and heavy, mouth open slack and receptive for Kurt's tongue to lick its way inside. He tastes Blaine's lemon-lime Gatorade and the sweat dripping from the dip below his nose. Blaine's face is rough against his where he should have shaved but hasn't. Kurt's fingers twist into the sweat-messy hair at the back of his neck and he just kisses him over, and over, and over again.
"How many more boxes?" he says finally, resting their gross foreheads together.
"Just a few, and that end-stand," Blaine tells him. "Your brother got most of the worst of it before he left."
"Stupid Rachel Berry and her stupid closing-night performance."
"He's bringing her flowers, Kurt. Be proud of them."
Blaine presses one last kiss to the corner of Kurt's mouth and then stands, holding his hand out to help Kurt to his feet. Together they head back down the (four flights of) stairs and start hauling up what's left.
"This place needs a goddamn elevator," hisses Kurt, still on the next landing down as Blaine's already reaching their door.
"What's 'assorted bedroom'?" he calls back, reading Kurt's Sharpie.
"It means put it in the bedroom and we'll figure it out some other time." He finally makes it into the apartment and Blaine meets him in the middle of the living room.
"You're grumpy," he says with a grin, hefting the box easily out of Kurt's arms.
"My delicate countenance is not cut out to endure this much physical stress," Kurt says, sweeping his bangs back into place (to basically no avail) with the edge of his thumb.
"Hmm, I'm so going to remember you said that the next time you're begging me to fuck you through to the third floor." He keeps grinning, and turns to take the box back into the bedroom.
"Ass," says Kurt.
Twenty minutes later there is finally, finally only one box left. Kurt lifts it out but then hands it to Blaine, leaning down to kiss his forehead from up inside the van.
"If you could take this, Mr. Macho Man, and then start putting that bed together while I drive the van back to the rental place? There's a bus line straight back, I'll be fine."
"Sounds perfect," says Blaine. Kurt climbs down and slides the van door closed with a rattle, and Blaine heads back up into the apartment building. (Kurt may or may not watch his ass until the door closes behind it before getting into the driver's seat.)
It's hard not to think about it, alone in the van they just used to move half or more of what they each own into one overcrowded, overheated space. It's hard not to think about where they've come from, what they once were, lost and drifting and really just way too gay for small-town Ohio, dancing around each other like the idiot show choir boys they were. It's hard not to think about who they are now, what they are now - college students, waiters and store clerks, karaoke regulars, lovers, boyfriends. It's hard not to think about how Blaine and Kurt are the first of their friends to move in together, ahead of Wes and Marnie, Finn and Rachel, even Brittany and Santana. Maybe they're taking this too fast. Maybe Blaine's insecurities about being a couple and Kurt's insecurities about something so physically intimate as sharing a living/sleeping/breathing space will wreck them from the inside of their fourth-floor Columbus apartment out. Maybe Kurt and Blaine have really, truly, always been in love, from the moment Blaine sang to him, I finally found you, and doing this together when they've already done so much else, so much more will be as easy as breathing - easier.
It's hard not to think about it. But it's even harder to think about, and Kurt's too exhausted, so he doesn't. What he does is drop the van and its keys and the money he owes for the day back at the rental place, and then walk the four blocks to the bus stop. Along the way he passes by a tiny shop selling organic smoothies, and he buys a couple, drinking at least half of his against the heat on the ride home and hoping Blaine's won't be too warm and melty by the time he gets there.
"Lucy, I'm home!" he calls with a smirk as he enters (using the shiny new key on his keyring - oh yeah, I'm living with this man) and heads through the maze of boxes toward the bedroom. To his surprise, Kurt hears a soft hiss of "shit" from the back, and his pace quickens with curiosity.
"I got you kiwi-banana, I hope that's okohhhmygod." Kurt's still kind of awkwardly holding out Blaine's runny smoothie but he isn't taking it. "I - I'm sorry, but what did the bed ever do to you?"
"I am so, so sorry, Kurt, look," he begins pitifully, "it's just these instructions, they're universal so they're just pictures without words and the pictures don't make any sense - "
"Just - take the smoothie and hush," says Kurt, gesturing more forcefully toward him with it and trying to ignore the explosion of black metal bedframe pieces all over the floor. "Cool down for a minute, and then we can work it out together."
Except, as it turns out, they can't.
They spend the better part of two hours trying to get tabs to go into slots and edges to fit together properly. Just when they finally think they might be getting somewhere, they'll have seven pieces left over and a quick test will prove that it won't support their weight without collapsing. It gets later and later and all the temporary freshness the fruit drinks may have provided wears off. Kurt is hot and sweaty and seriously frustrated.
"If we could have just gone with the bigger apartment, we could have gotten the bigger bed, which would have come with very detailed instructions."
"Well," Blaine says hotly, "if we had just not insisted on getting this fancy new-age bed for our interior decorating theme - "
"Oh don't say 'we' when you just mean me, Blaine, come out and - "
"Like you didn't start it - "
"It's just a bed!"
The room falls silent except for the box fan stuck in the open window. It isn't just a bed, and they both know it. It's their bed, the first time they haven't had separate beds, in separate rooms, in separate lives. And maybe it's hard to think about - but, well, life is hard.
"So why make it harder?" Kurt whispers, to himself.
"Nothing - just...." Kurt's arms reach out before he even really understands what he's doing, but Blaine understands, and he comes right into them, cupping the sides of Kurt's face and kissing him dark and deep like water from a cool clear stream. The sweat between them sticks their shirts and stomachs together, and they sway into each other's touch for just a moment, and then it's over.
"I want to go to bed with you," says Blaine right against his skin, his lips catching around the shell of Kurt's ear, as he reaches down to tug their hips together.
"We don't have a bed," says Kurt.
"We've got a mattress, that's good enough for me," he says. And Kurt's so tired, and so hot, Blaine's skin on his making his ears buzz, that it's good enough for him too.
They topple it flat right where it stands in the middle of the living room floor, and Kurt pulls out some pale blue sheets ("where'd you get those?" "'assorted bedroom'") to make it up with. They step onto it and just sort of stand in the middle, smiling stupidly, breathing each other's air.
"Hey roomie," says Kurt.
"Hey," says Blaine, low and rough and just - edible.
Kurt's mouth is on his in an instant, and in the same movement Blaine reaches down for the hem of Kurt's shirt to twist it off over his head. He pulls away to let it pass and does Blaine's too while they're at it. The exposed skin is taut and sticky and Kurt really, really wants it in his mouth, so he dips down to suck at Blaine's pectoral just below his collarbone, slow and wet and hard. Blaine gasps and Kurt can feel his chest hitch with the breath against his teeth.
"Yeah, Kurt," says Blaine, his hand stroking over Kurt's hair, "so good."
His mouth moves almost of its own accord, latching around Blaine's nipple for a tongue-twisting suck that makes his hips buck. He has to kneel, soon, to move further down, across the light ridges of Blaine's abdomen, seeking out the headiest of his sweat - a gross acquired taste like some kind of weird mixed drink, and just as intoxicating. Blaine's cock inside his loose shorts juts up hard and insistent at the underside of Kurt's chin, only getting more excited when Kurt rakes his nails up the wrong way through the hair on the back of Blaine's legs. He reaches up to hook his thumbs in the waistband of Blaine's shorts and underwear to tug them down and finds -
"All day?" He clamps down on the wanton whine that threatens to come up along with the words.
"Too hot for underwear," says Blaine, "now come on, Kurt - " His hand spasms a little against Kurt's hair, like he wants to tug him onward but he's being polite, and Kurt shudders around a hungry breath and pulls the shorts down and away, freeing the stiff cock inside them to bounce a little at his cheek. It smells so much like just Blaine that he can't pass up a deep, desperate inhale through his nose before swallowing it up, just the tip at first but not hesitating to move further. The hot skin rolls across his tongue and Kurt can't help but moan around it, so hard and thick and his, here, in his bed that's their bed (well, sort of). He wants Blaine all the hell the way down his throat, but his legs are already trembling in Kurt's hands, so he reaches up to scrape his fingernails sharp over Blaine's bare hips and tug him down, down, tonguing at him as they go, until Blaine's flat on his back trying not to just thrust up into Kurt's eager mouth. Kurt holds his hips down and noses forward.
"Fuck, Kurt, fuck," moans Blaine, hands finally daring to burrow into Kurt's sweat-soaked hair as Kurt finally sucks him all the way in. He twists his tongue at the vein underneath as his throat gasps and swallows around Blaine's head. His cock positively throbs in his cutoff jeans, and his hips pump down into the end of the mattress, desperate for some kind of friction. He needs this, but he needs so much more than this. And Blaine's going to come way too soon if he's not careful.
Kurt slides his mouth up off Blaine's dick slowly and Blaine groans loud the whole way. "Kurt, please, baby - "
"Cool down for a minute," he says with a grin, but his voice is so thick with need that he doesn't actually sound playful at all. He grabs Blaine's hips wide and low in his hands and tips them up, nosing down behind his balls to the place where the scent is thickest of all. The first swipe of his tongue makes all of Blaine twitch wildly; he pinches sharp at his left hip and the second pass is tenser, tighter, more restrained. Kurt slowly but surely licks his way into Blaine, tongue pressing hot and hard past the outer ring of muscle, sweat and saliva making it dripping slick.
"Oh my god, Kurt, Kurt, ahh!" and Blaine's spine tenses so hard that his head rocks up off the mattress as Kurt gets one finger inside right next to his tongue, coaxing Blaine open as gently as he can.
Because he doesn't think there's any lube in that "assorted bedroom" box.
And Kurt wants to fuck him through to the third floor.
He has to take his tongue back out once the third finger gets in, but they're sliding well enough, and he closes his lips tight back around the head of Blaine's cock instead. From there he can see Blaine's face again, his eyes screwed squinty and his mouth slack open, panting for air, sweat dripping down from his forehead and his nose. It's almost too much for Kurt, and it gets even worse when he pulls back entirely, sits up, and wriggles out of his shorts. Blaine's eyes are almost black with lust and all he's staring at is Kurt's erection. His breath falters and his skin crawls with it. His hands as they scoop behind Blaine's knees are shaking.
"J-jesus," Kurt stutters.
Blaine growls, "Fuck me, Kurt Hummel."
Kurt scrambles forward and presses hard inside in one deep stroke. Blaine spasms off the mattress again, throwing one arm up to grab Kurt around the neck and tug him forward for a fierce, snarling kiss. They sweat and thrust and use too much teeth, and Blaine's so damn tight around him, moaning into his mouth, grabbing at his slick skin, in his bed that's their bed. When Blaine comes up across Kurt's chest, thicker and stickier than they already are, it's just too heavy too hot too much for Kurt and he shoots off shortly after, some of it seeping back around his softening cock as he fills Blaine up inside and then pulls slowly and carefully out.
When it's over, Kurt's tired to his freaking bones, and falls asleep right there on top of his boyfriend, Blaine's hot hands stroking through his hair.
He rolls over to an empty left-side (Blaine's side) of the - mattress, feeling simultaneously rested beyond belief and like he's only been asleep two minutes. The sun streaming through the wide living room window lends more credibility to the former, however. Wincing a little at his sticky skin and the stickier sheets, Kurt sits up and blinks around, trying to find his boyfriend. He doesn't see him, but he hears him in the kitchen - oh man, breakfast sounds amazing. Kurt throws the disgusting top sheet back and looks around for his shorts but he can only find Blaine's. He tugs them on and staggers over to the kitchen.
"Mornin'," says Blaine, smiling way too broadly. He hands Kurt a glass of grapefruit juice, and it's a little warm, but he accepts it gratefully. "You were out hard. You usually don't just crash after sex like that."
"Yesterday was exhausting," he grumbles. It must come out harsher than he means it because Blaine snuggles up behind him immediately, arms around his waist, scruffy chin craning to rest on his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Kurt," he says. "I didn't mean to get so worked up about the stupid bed, I just - I wanted this to start off right, I wanted everything to be perfect - "
"Everything can't always be perfect," says Kurt. "Hell, nothing is ever perfect." He reaches to set his glass between a couple boxes on the counter and then turns in Blaine's arms to face him. For the first time Kurt notices that Blaine is wearing his shorts, too, the whitewashed denim a little too loose and hanging dangerously low on his slim hips. He curves his hands there and strokes slow and even with his thumbs. "But it's good, Blaine. It's so, so good."
Blaine smiles, clear and bright and so genuine it almost hurts. "Good."
"Now," says Kurt. "I'm going to go buy some groceries, because I want to have breakfast and then I want to christen every other room in this damn place."
"All three of them, wow, that's ambitious."
"Several times if need be."
"Just - don't go too crazy with the groceries, okay?"
"And what exactly does that mean?"
Blaine chuckles, and slips out of Kurt's arms, and over to open the refrigerator door. The bottle of juice sits alone inside, in the dark. "It means our fridge is broken."
Kurt looks back and forth from the juice, to Blaine, to around at the whole apartment, and just - laughs, full and loud and uncontrollable. On the outside he clutches at his stomach, and on the inside, he thinks about it, really thinks about it. And it isn't so hard.
aaaaand other fills from Shauna's meme!!
+ Santana+Blaine friendship, "rating guys from 1-10"
+ Kurt/Blaine college!fic (this turned AU a little)
+ Kurt/Blaine "sushi date" (for my favorite sushi date ♥)
+ "sexting to the wrong person" - two Kurt/Blaine fills, an angsty one and a fun one
+ whoooooops Blaine/Puck/Lauren handjobs
+ Kurt/Blaine BJs for Shauna sigh (post-Sexy so there are spoilers y0)
+ Kurt/Blaine "hot tub" :3c (nationals!fill so it's got mckinley!Blaine-ish)
+ KURT/BLAINE SAILOR MOON WHAT HAVE I DONE
+ k/b phonesex yawn what else is new
+ Kurt/Blaine hairpulling for Ro because yeah~
+ My Favorite Blaine fill - shiny new greasemonkey!Blaine to play with *3*
+ AND PROBABLY MORE TO COME I still have at least three I want to fill sobbing
um hi what is this thing called internetz