#colferplz

The hazy early morning sunlight is just beginning to filter through the windows as Blaine stands in his kitchen.  It cuts across the cold floor, just barely warming the tops of Blaine’s bare feet.  He should be wearing slippers, or at least socks, but he left them in the bedroom.  Blaine scratches idly at his bare stomach and stares at his cupboards.  He thinks he should start making some breakfast – pancakes, maybe, or eggs.  He bought some bacon the other day and a fresh loaf of bread from his favorite bakery.  But first he needs coffee.  His brain is still fuzzy with sleep and Blaine shivers in the cool air of the kitchen.  There’s frost on the windows and he should be wearing a shirt, but he left that in the bedroom too. 

Blaine hears the rustle of bed covers and bare feet hitting the floor and he can’t stop his smile.  Kurt must be awake.  Blaine reaches his arms high above his head, groaning softly at the stretch in his back and his abs, all the way down to the tendons in his hips.  He can still feel the marks of Kurt’s lips on his skin, the pressure of his fingertips.  The heat of his mouth and grip of his body.

He’s reaching for the bag of coffee on the second shelf when he hears the creak of the loose floorboard in the living room and then shuffling padded footsteps on the kitchen tile.  Strong arms slide around his waist and a soft mouth touches the back of his neck. Blaine leans back into the comfortable embrace, eyes closing against the flood of contentment that fills his chest.

“Morning, B.” Kurt murmurs, voice low and scratchy, and Blaine can feel his smile.

Blaine turns in the circle of Kurt’s arms.  Kurt's eyes are grey-blue and his hair is sticking up all over the place.  He has a faint red line from a crease in the pillowcase across his cheek and he’s utterly breathtaking.  “Morning.”

Kurt’s wearing Blaine’s old, worn NYU shirt (snatched up from the bedroom floor where Blaine had dropped it the night before) and the faded lettering stretched across his broad chest makes Blaine’s heart stutter.

Blaine tips his face up for a kiss.  He catches the twitch of Kurt’s lips into a sweet little smile before their mouths meet and just barely hears the hitch in Kurt’s breath when they do.  He doesn’t taste of toothpaste, and Blaine adores the ease and familiarity in that.  Kurt’s hands splay wide across his lower back and Blaine is suddenly warm all over.  He feels secure in Kurt’s arm, safe – held fast where he can’t be hurt.

“Why are you up so early?” Kurt asks when he finally pulls away.  “I thought you didn’t have work today.”

“I don’t.  But coffee.” Blaine ducks in and mouths a damp kiss to Kurt’s collarbone.  It’s tempting to just take them back to bed, caffeine be damned. 

“Ah yes, coffee.”  Kurt runs his hands up the length of Blaine’s back and Blaine rolls his shoulder blades into the touch.  “Will you show me?”  He asks.

“Hmm?”  Blaine settles his hands on Kurt’s hips, rubbing his thumbs against the solid curves of bone.

“How you make your coffee.  Will you show me?”

“It’s not that hard.”

“I know, but it’s your thing.  I wanna see.  I wanna know, so maybe one morning I can surprise you with the perfect cup of coffee.”

Blaine's heart squeezes and his belly swoops.  It’s been a few months since Kurt Hummel walked into his Starbucks, and then into his life and heart, and Blaine still doesn’t know how he got so lucky.  He doesn’t understand how someone like Kurt – someone as talented and gorgeous and charming as Kurt – would want anything to do with him.  But he does.  He wants Blaine.  Somehow, Blaine is the man who gets to wake up with Kurt in his bed in his tiny, crappy apartment with its shitty radiators and creaky floors.  It feels huge and precious, and Blaine can only hope to hold on to it for as long as possible, capturing it in his hands and music.

“Okay,” Blaine breathes, and Kurt’s smile surpasses the morning sun.

With Kurt pressed close and familiar against him, half-curved around his back, Blaine carefully walks him through the steps of making the perfect latte with his espresso machine.  He shows him how to grind the beans to just the right consistency, how to tamp down the grounds in the portafilter.  Blaine guides him through steaming the milk just right, so the foam is thick and creamy.  Kurt’s hands are warm and light against his, feeling his movements, learning.  The touch makes heat coil in Blaine’s belly.  He’d had Kurt’s hands on far more intimate parts of him last night, but the brush of his fingertips against the backs of his hands, the lingering pressure against his wrists, makes him squirm with happiness and pleasure.

When the shots are pulled into an old NYU mug and the steamed milk is slowly poured in, the crema of the espresso clinging to the sides, Blaine offers Kurt the first taste.

“Here.”  He watches the slow flutter of Kurt’s eyelashes over the rim of the mug and the working of his long throat as he takes a sip.  “Good?”

“Mmhmm, perfect.” 

Blaine’s breath catches and his stomach swoops as Kurt leans in, over the cup clasped in his hands, and brushes a gentle kiss across his lips that deepens as Blaine opens up to it.  Blaine can taste the sweet espresso on his tongue.

“What?” Kurt asks when he draw back, touching the soft contour of Blaine’s jaw with his warm fingertips.

“Nothing.  It’s just - you smile before you kiss me.”  Blaine blushes to the tips of his ears, but Kurt’s eyes go bright.

“Well,” Kurt sets the mug down on the counter and draws Blaine in close to his body.  “Your kisses make me smile.”

we need an ot5 tag