““What if these are like Blaine’s senior pictures?””—
- Tyler Oakley on Darren Criss’ People’s Sexiest Men 2011 out takes
Fandom, make it so. Fics. Now.
“Blaine! What the hell is this?” Kurt asks, handing him a stack of photos. It’s been a long Saturday of cleaning out Blaine’s room before his parents’ latest garage sale. They’ve finally moved onto Blaine’s closet, the last part of the room (and source of no less than twelve “coming out of the closet” jokes from each boy), when Kurt stumbles upon the photos.
At first, they look like typical beach candids. Sure, Blaine is running around shirtless, which never ceases to appeal to Kurt’s feral side, but the photos don’t seem too far out-of the-ordinary. Kurt flips through them, thinking nothing, until he gets to the last one. Something about it is different, professional. It’s a black-and-white picture of Blaine, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. There’s a certain quality and perfection to the image that just didn’t happen with their normal cameras. Kurt could make out every freckle on Blaine’s shoulders, every pore in his face. In one image, he could even see the light brown birthmark on the back of Blaine’s neck that normally could only be seen in perfect lining.
Blaine giggles as Kurt hands over the shots. ”Oh. These. Funny story, actually.” he mumbles, and chucks them onto the bed. Kurt waits expectantly, stuffing an old pair of jeans — size 30x28, two inches shorter than Blaine now wears— into a box labelled “to sell.” But Blaine never finishes the thought. Kurt decides to leave the matter alone for now, and quickly breaks the silence, asking if Blaine wants to hold onto his Ohio State-patterned bowtie, or sell it. Blaine, of course, wants to keep it, and a playful argument about the merits of college-pride formalwear follows.
Later that afternoon, the pair lies on Blaine’s bed, clothes adhered to their lower backs and chests with the uncomfortable stickiness of cooled sweat. Kurt sighs, wrapping a foot behind Blaine’s calf. ”So what’s the funny story about those photos?”
Blaine laughs. ”They were supposed to be my Senior photos. Most of the class went to the photographer offered by the school.”
Kurt giggles. ”Yes, Michael. We all knew him well back at McKinley. Quite the character. He makes everyone pose next to this old rusted-out barn behind his studio.
Blaine nods. ”So I’ve heard. But Mom insisted on her friend who’s a photographer. I don’t think she realized that he mostly did shoots for, like, Playgirl. Trust me, it was a miracle that the pants stayed on.”
Kurt nuzzled in closer to Blaine. ”I quite like them. The pants, I mean. And the photos.”
Blaine snakes his hand to the small of Kurt’s back. ”Kurt Hummel, I’m surprised.” He whispers in fake shock. ”Ignoring the impracticality of corduroys on a beach in favor of pure tittilation?”
Kurt jokingly smacks Blaine’s arm. ”I never said I was tittilated, just that I liked them. My intro to photography class has made me much more aware of the high quality of this particular photograph.”
“Bullcrap.” Blaine sighs into Kurt’s forehead. ”You love the pictures and want to keep them for yourself.”
“Guilty as charged.” Kurt mutters. ”Guilty as freaking charged.”
Baby Blaine asking Cooper if boys can be pretty because “the boy holding the Power Ranger on women’s show isle was real pretty!”
And Cooper just smiles.
*sigh*
“Coop! Hey, hey, Coop.”
Blaine tugs on his older brother’s pant leg, staring wide-eyed down the aisle. Blaine’s five (five and a half, he corrects whenever anyone gets it wrong), and he’s just seen the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life.
Cooper crouches down, bracing himself with one knee on the floor, eye-level with his little brother. Their mom is moving down the aisle already, but Blaine has something important to say.
“What’s up, B?”
“Coop,” Blaine leans in conspiratorially, tugging Cooper’s ear closer to his mouth. “Coop, can boys be pretty like girl princesses can?”
Blaine darts his eyes toward the boy holding onto his mom’s hand down the aisle, clutching a yellow Power Ranger and biting his thumb. Cooper smiles, ruffles Blaine’s hair.
“Why, B? You think he’s pretty?”
“He’s the most beautiful person in the whole wide world,” Blaine breathes, staring into Cooper’s eyes seriously. Cooper cracks a smile, stands up and takes Blaine’s hand.
“Boys can be pretty, too,” he replies, walking with Blaine over to the little boy and his mom. “In fact, I think you might be right. Why don’t we go say hi?”
Blaine all but skips down the aisle, throws his arms around the startled little boy.
“My name’s Blaine. That’s a cool Power Ranger, I like the pink one, but the yellow one is cool too. Hey, do you want to be my friend?”
The little boy slips behind his mom’s legs, peeking out, somewhat apprehensive. Blaine waits patiently. He needs to know this boy’s name, needs to remember him forever.
“My name’s Kurt,” the boy whispers, smiling shyly at Blaine.
“Kurt,” Blaine repeats, giving Kurt one last hug before following Cooper from the store. When they’re home later, Blaine tugs Cooper into his room, places both hands on Cooper’s shoulders and looks at him seriously.
“Cooper, Kurt is the best, most prettiest, most beautiful boy there is, okay? But you can’t tell anyone.”
Cooper just smiles, flips Blaine upside down by the ankles and tickles him.
“I won’t tell,” he says with a laugh, chasing Blaine when he scampers away.
And because I like heartache, I continue:
Blaine had been telling Cooper about his boyfriend absently whenever he called in to check on him. Their conversations lacked details, since Cooper was pretty busy and just wanted to check in. (Coop hated that, because this was his brother’s first boyfriend: he wanted to know everything).
Finally, though, he was back home for a few weeks and was going to finally meet Kurt, Blaine’s boyfriend.
“I hope you like him,” Blaine was saying nervously as they walked up to Kurt’s door.
“Hey, if you think he’s good enough for you, B, I’m sure he’s great,” said Cooper.
When the front door opened after Blaine rang the doorbell, revealing a tall boy with tidy brown hair and a long, pale face, Coop just knows that yes, this is the boy that Blaine says he’s in love with.
“Cooper, this is Kurt, my boyfriend.”
“It’s nice to meet you, finally,” said Kurt, holding out his hand.
Cooper takes it, and suddenly, he remembers. Remembers the day in the toy isle that was like any other day. The little boy with the yellow Power Ranger, Kurt. The day that Cooper found out that Blaine was gay - would always be gay - and loved him for it no matter what.
There was no doubt in Coopers mind that this was the same Kurt (how many could there be in Ohio, anyway?) and that maybe they were always meant to be one single entity: together.
Cooper remembers Blaine on the car ride over: “Kurt is beautiful, Coop. The most beautiful, interesting boy in all of Ohio. Hell, probably anywhere,” he said with complete seriousness.
He’d been saying that since he was five and a half.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Cooper finally says (“again” he decides not to add). Maybe he’ll tell Kurt and Blaine about how they first met, about their bonding over Power Rangers, but not now. Maybe at their wedding reception, Cooper thinks, because he likes the dramatic idea of that.
He also doesn’t doubt that one day that will happen.
We need to make a “Shit Klainers Say” some time
- ::crying:: Sorry, I was just thinking about Kurt and Blaine again.
- Is that Katy Perry? No, you don’t understand. Katy. Perry.
- You need to read this fanfic.
- Have you read this fanfic?
- No, it’s cool. It’s NC-17. You should read it.
- ::crying:: I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUUUUUCH.
- But… but… NYADA.
- Don’t talk about Blaine’s age. I don’t want to hear it.
- Why do I need a boyfriend when Kurt and Blaine are dating?
- Bowties?
- Bowties.
- For sectionals?
- For sectionals.
- Blessed are the Klainers, they shall inherit the fandom.
- The Ryan Murphy is my shepherd, I shall not want for Klisses.
- You move me, Kurt.
- Because of all the layers?
- Because of all the layers.
- BLAINE YOU ARE A PUPPY.
- KURT YOU ARE NOT A BABY PENGUIN YOU LIAR.
- OH GOD THEY’VE HAD SEX I CAN’T
- Just like the song?
- Just like the song.
- BLACKBIRD SINGING IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
- His Pavarotti died so that Klaine may survive.
- Forever and ever, Klaimen.
- No seriously have you read this fic yet?
Klaine AU- Blaine is a new student who needs tutoring from his French teacher, Mr Hummel
A soft knock on his office door snapped Kurt out of his intense grading. He was correcting the gender agreement on a freshman’s essay when the clickety-clack of rubber-soled loafers let him know that whoever was at the door had entered.
“Mr. Hummel? I was told I could see you after class for French tutoring?” a cheery voice asked more than stated. ”Mrs. Berry said she set up an appointment?”
“Yes, yes, please sit down.” Kurt sighed without looking up from his papers. This was going to be a huge setback, time-wise, but the department chair was his sister-in-law. If she required tutoring for the new student, then, by goodness, Kurt had to do it. ”Please forgive me for being a little frazzled, but I have two hundred essays to grade in the next week, and they’re all quite messy.”
The cheery voice laughed. ”Well, I prematurely apologize for mine, then.” Kurt smiled and looked up at the student now seated in front of him. The boy was on the shorter side for his age, maybe 5’6”. He had a mop of curly dark hair that was stuck to his head with what appeared to be a gallon of gel. His skin was a light tan with slight olive undertones. There were slight wrinkles under his eyes, creases that led down to his smile. That smile, though… it was something different altogether. The boy had a bright white smile, slightly crooked teeth surrounded by bubblegum-pink lips. On anyone else, the grin would have looked goofy, dumb even. But on this kid, it was something magical, sexy.
Kurt shook his head and mentally kicked himself for even thinking such a thing about a student. Even if the boy wasn’t his own student and, judging by the scruff on his chin, was so very close to 18. Kurt realized that the room had been silent for almost a full minute, and coughed to break the silence.
“So, your name is Blake?” Kurt muttered, staring at a spot slightly above the boy’s head.
“Blaine.” he corrected. ”Blaine Anderson. I’m new here. Just transferred from Dalton Academy.”
“Smart kid.” Kurt mumbled, nodding in the boy’s general direction. ”Have you taken French before?”
“Yes sir.” Blaine stated, and Kurt felt something white-hot run down his spine. ”Three years. But Dalton is on the trimester system, so I was only in French 2 before I transferred. I’m in French 4 now, so I just need to bulk up my vocab and brush up on the subjunctive.”
Kurt nodded. This was going to be a long-term thing, and he was oddly okay with that. ”I’m going to conduct these sessions in French, if that’s okay with you. Immersion is the best method for learning foreign languages. If you don’t understand a word, I will explain it in French. Is that good?”
Blaine nodded a little too enthusiastically.
“Bon.” Kurt began. ”Maintenant, le subjonctif est très important pour s’exprimer, alors commençons-nous.”
“Sex-pree-may?” Blaine asked, and Kurt flushed at the unintentional innuendo. He stumbled over his words for a second before he finally figured out how to explain himself.
“S’exprimer, c’est ce qu’on fait de dire qu’elquechose. Pour faire comprendre les idées.”
Blaine nodded in acknowledgement. ”Je comprends.”
“Oui.” Kurt dreamily responded. ”Tu comprends.”
(via jpierrepontcriss)
Can we talk about how the last time we saw them in that room, in that bed, they were about to have sex for the first time? They’re just holding hands like it’s no big deal, but they both lost their virginities, like, right there.
(via ashleymichelew)
Poop-related Klaine humor
- You bladder, Kurt
- You bowel move me, Kurt
- For s-ex-lax-tionals? For s-ex-lax-tionals.
- Because of all the laxatives? Because of all the laxatives.
- Enema misery, there ain’t nobody who can comfort me
- Blow the candles out, looks like a Cottonelle night. And I think I’ll be alright.
- If you have a minute why don’t we go.
- One hand, one fart.
Fanfic: In Which Kurt Walks in on Blaine in the Bathtub
In the Anderberry AU (wherein Blaine and Rachel are siblings.)
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut or fluff or something
Warning: I’ve been drinking chocolate wine (which, btw, is fantastic), so I’m a little drunk. Excuse any spelling/grammar errors.
Also, two boys play with their wee-wees in this story, so you shouldn’t read it if you don’t like that kind of thing.
