Klaine Smut

7

Blaine wasn't sure why they always hung out in Lima, even when it was just the two of them, but by the time it had been a few months he'd stopped really wondering. He'd met the parents (Carole adored him, Burt seemed wary but tentatively not interested in hating him), he'd managed to win Finn over thanks to a mutual love of football (even if Finn still wasn't so sure he understood how Blaine could know all that and still be gay, but they were working on that), and he'd even managed to sufficiently charm the regular afternoon shift at the Lima Bean to the point where he sometimes managed to score some free biscotti because they liked him so much.

But the biggest accomplishment of the thrice-weekly Lima hangouts? He had finally gotten to where he felt comfortable in Kurt's room.

The all-white (okay, fine, Dior grey, and he knew that, but that didn't exactl roll off the tongue) basement was not the kind of place that put a person instantly at-ease. Even Blaine, who had been raised in expensive homes with sitting rooms that were never used and imported rugs that cost more than his very nice car, had been immediately struck by the feeling that he would spill something on one of the many white chairs, it would drip onto the white rug, then the white painted floor, and Kurt would refuse to ever speak to him again.

Not seriously - at least, he hoped not. But it had taken awhile for him to feel really comfortable and casual in the space. Kurt had helped; it was hard to see the oddly-shaped chairs as untouchable when Kurt draped so effortlessly across them. Within a month or so - maybe a little more, when they factored in the time off for the two weeks he'd been stuck just north of Cincinnati to sing four shows a day - he knew where to grab pens if Kurt asked him to, he was allowed to touch the product collection (which he assumed was a big deal), and he knew how to pull Kurt's white modular sofa out into the bed for days when the felt like lounging a little.

He liked those days; he just had to be careful not to like them too much. It wasn't really cuddling, Kurt wasn't quite that tactile - even with him - but it was still lying on a bed with a cute boy who had a tendency to let out happy sighs when listening to his favourite song, and sometimes those sighs kind of coincided with shifting in ways that brought their arms to kind of brush together in a way that felt surprisingly intimate considering how many times Blaine had deliberately taken his arm at school.

"I would apologize, but I make it a point never to say 'I'm sorry' for fashion," Kurt called from his walk-in closet under the stairs.

"Not a problem," Blaine called back, lying on the bed and idly flipping through the latest issue of Vogue.

"I hadn't tried the sweater in awhile, so I was remembering it as more cool-tone blue than it actually is," he offered, and Blaine barely restrained himself from laughing at the disappointment he heard in Kurt's voice. "The entire plan was ruined when it didn't work, so I had to start from square one."

"We're not going anywhere, you really don't have to non-apologize." He paused to study a photo, leaning in to peer at it more closely. "I swear this same outfit was used a couple months ago."

"You haven't even seen it yet," Kurt protested. "And contrary to popular belief, I don't have a policy of never wearing the same thing twice - a couple months would hardly be my record."

Blaine laughed fondly and replied, "No, silly - in this photo shoot. I swear they used the same one in the Tom Ford spread back in December."

"You can check if you want, I have it," Kurt replied easily. "Copies from last year are all in the second drawer." A month ago Kurt wouldn't have given him instructions, would have instead offered to get them when he was done, but that would've been god-only-knows how long. But he was comfortable now - and Kurt was comfortable with him there - so he simply reached over and pulled open the second drawer with a dull rolling sound.