#sezza writes

also on AO3 and FFN, and you can find all of them on my Tumblr here ♥

written for 2013’s advent challenge but I basically forgot but hey at least it’s the Christmas season?

Kurt is used to hearing ‘no’ – hell, he’s used to not even getting that. He was a spoilt child; then he asked God to make his mommy better and she died anyway; then he wished on every star that he wasn’t gay, please, please, please, and then he fell head over heels with Finn; then he decided to hell with it, he was going to stop asking.

*

Blaine was never really told ‘no’; yes, you can take up piano, yes, you can play polo, yes, you can go to that party, yes, you can go to Dalton, yes, you can have whatever car you like, son.

So he was never told ‘no’ out loud, but he sees it every time his mother’s eyes lingered where the scar on his ribs, every time his father looks at him during a sports game.

*

No, the boys say to his boards; yes, says the boy he just met, who takes his hand and pulls him through the halls and serenades him in front of an entire room of peers.

The best part is, several months later, when Kurt finds the courage to ask, Blaine doesn’t say no – he says maybe, and, mere weeks after that, that turns into a hell yes and Kurt ends up late for dinner.

*

When it’s Blaine’s turn to ask, he gathers their friends and family and rivals, and he has a ring.

Of course Kurt says yes.

*

There are many ways to say yes and no – body language, slang, idioms, indirect. But this, they find, is the very best of all:

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written for 2013’s advent challenge but I basically forgot but hey at least it’s the Christmas season?

(This was written before the last half of s5 but set after, so K&B are married and Santana is still dating Dani and they're all still living together for Reasons.)

At the moment, Dani is lying with her back to Santana, fast asleep, so in case she disturbs her girlfriend she can’t watch any of her Spanish telenovelas, or that trashy modelling show the My Little Ponies got her hooked on.

The same My Little Ponies who are to blame for Santana still being awake right now. She’d been about to drop when an unmistakable gasp had come through the curtain, followed by a completely unhushed moan – she’d made a mental note to give them high fives in the morning – but afterwards they’d started whispering, and it was absolutely sickening. All ‘I love you’ and ‘that was amazing, you’re amazing’ and probably staring into each other’s eyes, and then instead of dirty talk and round two they’d started whispering about their days. And, okay, it was pretty surprising because Blaine sounded like he had a pretty shitty day and Santana didn’t think it was even possible for him to be anything less than ninety percent obnoxious happiness, so maybe she could bring him a muffin after her shift at the diner tomorrow, or something. Kurt will probably be suspicious about it but Blaine is the least suspecting, most friendly person ever, hasn’t really changed from the person who tries to help a bitchy stranger through being outed. Which is nice, probably.

God, Santana is never living with a married couple again, she’s going totally soft, it’s disgusting.

also on AO3 and FFN

written for 2013’s advent challenge but I basically forgot but hey at least it’s the Christmas season?

also on AO3 and FFN

written for 2013’s advent challenge but I basically forgot but hey at least it’s the Christmas season?

The conclusion to the mini-story of 'human' and 'stitch' (links TBA). :)

“What do you mean you haven’t talked yet?!”

“Ow!” Blaine rubs his arm and glares balefully at Santana, and she just snorts at him.

“Your whole communication shtick was basically the main boast of your wedding vows, dumbass.”

“It’s not a shtick,” Blaine says, offended. Santana raises a pointed eyebrow at him. He looks away.

*

The radio is on in the kitchen when Blaine comes home, and that alone makes Blaine feel more confident; their apartment has been lacking in music since that argument.

For a few moments, he’s content to just lean against the kitchen door frame and watch his husband dance as he bakes; the smile that Kurt gives him when he spots him makes the world right.

“Santana thinks we should still talk about our argument,” he says. Kurt’s smile dims, but it doesn’t disappear. Good.

“And you?” he asks airily.

Blaine shrugs his shoulders and smiles. “No.”

Kurt beams at him and abandons the mixing bowl to give Blaine a kiss. When they part, Blaine laughs.

“You’ve been eating the batter,” he grins, and Kurt looks scandalised.

“Such bold accusations, dear husband!”

Before Blaine can get caught up in this – missed – banter, he links his fingers through Kurt’s and pulls them to sit at their tiny, tiny table.

“Although,” he says, “I do think we need to talk about how to make sure that . . . that doesn’t happen again.”

Kurt nods, solemn. “I agree.”

It doesn’t take long. They both cry again, the wounds from their barbs still hurting no matter how much they try to kiss it away, but they come up with ideas and strategies and write them down and put it in a kitchen drawer.

also on AO3 and FFN

written for 2013’s advent challenge but I basically forgot but hey at least it’s the Christmas season?

Blaine is reading using the light of his phone when Kurt comes home, closes the door behind him, and immediately walks into the table by their door. His swears are punctuated by the sounds of keys and mail and the plastic vase hitting the floor, and Blaine calls out, “You okay, honey?”

“You planned that,” Kurt responds without heat, and Blaine grins in the dark.

“So the guy on the radio thinks the power’ll be out all night,” he says, and Kurt groans.

“It’s too cold for a power outage,” he complains.

Blaine opens the flashlight app on his phone and shines it vaguely in Kurt’s direction so his husband can pick up everything from the floor, and then he steps forward to take his hand, making sure the light catches his smile.

“I’ve made arrangements,” he says cryptically, and to Kurt’s credit, the other man only raises an eyebrow.

Then he enters the bedroom and sees Blaine’s arrangements and laughs so delightedly. Blaine’s piled all their spare blankets and pillows on their bed, arranged them into a fort, placed a few bottles of water and platters of cheese and cake on their bedside tables, and he turns his phone off completely and flicks on the actual flashlight he laid in the fort’s entrance.

“Blaine!” Kurt laughs.

“We can’t have sex yet, though,” Blaine says, laughing himself when Kurt pouts. “The fort’ll collapse! It took me almost an hour, we should at least enjoy feeding each other first.”

Even with the light shining in his eyes, Blaine sees Kurt’s pupils dilate. The man licks his lips, carefully crowds Blaine against the bed, and murmurs against his lips, “You have the best plans.”

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written for 2013’s advent challenge but I basically forgot but hey at least it’s the Christmas season?

Continued from 'human', and concluded in 'us' (links TBA).

Kurt doesn’t see Blaine for three days; his husband sleeps on Sam’s couch and only comes home when Kurt’s at work. He knows because there are different clothes gone from the closet and drawers every day. Every article gone is another shard of his heart; every item gone is a new hope. (One of the first pieces to go was one of Kurt’s old henley shirts.)

He considers leaving a letter with an apology for Blaine to find but ends up putting them all through the shredder.

On the third day, Blaine is sitting on their couch with a duffel bag next to him. Kurt bursts into tears and begs Blaine not to leave, and even after he realises the duffel is borrowed from Sam and full of Blaine’s dirty laundry, it takes a long time for his heart to stop pounding his ribs.

“I didn’t mean anything I said,” Kurt whispers, clutching Blaine’s hands to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Blaine returns. He smiles, but it isn’t real. Kurt smiles back, but that isn’t real either.

*

They marathon Gilmore Girls and early seasons of Treme and Jersey Shore, and try too hard to act normal.

The apartment is always perfect and spotless.

Kurt does all the laundry. The second time, Blaine helps him iron and fold and put away, and they tell their newly cleaned underwear about their days until they can bear to tell each other’s eyes.

Their busy periods die down.

They have sex at night and kiss in the morning and don’t talk about how it feels weird when they’re still weird, but each time their skin touches, it’s a little less.

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written for 2013’s advent challenge but I basically forgot but hey at least it’s the Christmas season?

Kurt (Blaine) steps fresh into Dalton (McKinley) three times.

One. He’s wearing black shorts and a red tie, and holds another boy’s hand for the first time in his life. (He’s wearing his school uniform. He defends, and is defended by, a boy he barely knows.)

Two. He’s wearing the real school uniform, not just a fabulous imitation. There is an animal head pinned to his blazer and a single shining light among the crowd. When he finally steps out again, it’s so much harder than he would have ever thought. (He sings to his boyfriend, and his whispered thank you drifts away with the breeze when he isn’t looking. He never wants to leave.)

also on AO3 and FFN

written for 2013’s advent challenge but I basically forgot but hey at least it’s the Christmas season?

This one contains Kurt and Blaine as old men, for those who love/want to avoid such topics. I think it's cute. :)

Blaine groans in time with his bones as he lowers himself onto the seat, and wistfully remembers a time when he was able to jump up on tables as if it were nothing.

“Alright there?” comes Kurt’s amused voice, as he himself elegantly descends onto the adjacent chair.

“I’m old,” he replies balefully, accepting his drink. “Except you’re older. How are you still so . . . sprightly?”

Kurt laughs. “I told you you should’ve done yoga with me,” he teases. Blaine groans again, and then they fall silent, looking out onto the dance floor.

Their granddaughter beams from her new husband’s arms.

“It seems like yesterday that was us,” Kurt comments idly, absently, nostalgically.

Blaine looks at him, at the creases in his skin and the grey hairs and the aged features no less beautiful than the young ones he fell in love with. He remembers Kurt panicking at his first grey hair, how it took him years to stop dyeing it – not that Blaine’s one to talk: when he hit fifty, Kurt had only just managed to convince him botox wasn’t worth it.

He sets his drink down on the table and struggles back to his feet, waving off Kurt’s attempts to help.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Blaine holds out his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

Kurt beams. The years on his face seem to melt away, and with them go the years on Blaine’s bones, and it could be their children’s weddings or their own or even their first prom.

“Yes, you may,” Kurt says. He takes Blaine’s hands and they lead each other out onto the floor. The years return, but as they wrap their arms around each other, as in love as ever, Blaine barely notices.