"Well, we made another Coachella. It was beautiful, Snoop, Dre, Fiddy, Eminem, they all just played, I’m covered in face paint, I got work in maybe like 6 hours. But that’s awesome cause I love going to work and I love Coachella. Thank you, Coachella, for another great year. Until next time!"
Push-ups and kisses for all eternity.
spangledout made a post that said: i really want a fic of kurt being hit on by all the guys in their stage combat class and him just like totally shutting them down…
So I made an attempt to write the thing.
The Pitfalls of Puberty, or How Even NYADA Students Are Oblivious
(Klaine, 833 words, PG-13)
Whoever’s idea it was to double today’s class period to make up for the snow day should be fired. Blaine’s life science teacher should also be fired. If Blaine was in class with him instead of on an all-day field trip he could distract Kurt from his pain.
Yes, pain. The heating system is on full blast, making the room feel like a sauna. That combined with the constant physical exertion and the number of bodies in the space makes it completely unbearable.
Kurt flops to the floor while group 2 takes their turn in front of the class. He feels disgusting.
He uncaps his water, drinks half, and sets it down. Then he peels off his shirt and sticks it in his bag.
“I’m so hot,” he groans.
Ryan, a fellow sophomore who’s also in his history class glances at him from where he’s sitting a few feet away, and grins. “Yeah, you are. I bet you’re even hotter when you lose the pants.”
A few years ago Kurt’s first instinct would’ve been to blush, pretend he hadn’t heard, expect a punch line.
Now, however, he simply raises his left hand. “Taken.”
Ryan’s smile shifts into something more akin to a scowl, “Whatever.”
Next class Kurt is on his own again because Blaine had sprained his ankle trying to learn parkour with Sam over the weekend. He’s glad Blaine has Sam as a friend and everything, but god, they are such boys.
They lesson is pretty uneventful, just a review of the new stuff they learned last time, and when it ends he hurries to be first out the door. He’s just pulling out his phone to see if Blaine wants Kurt to bring him anything, when someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around to see Jordan, who transferred into their class a few weeks ago.
“Hi?” Kurt says, a little confusedly. He isn’t sure they’ve actually ever had a conversation.
“Hey,” Jordan says. “Hey listen, do you want to maybe get dinner sometime?”
Kurt almost rolls his eyes. Is everyone blind? He lifts his hand to display his ring. “I’m engaged, sorry.”
Jordan’s eyes widen a little. “Oh, okay, um, wow.”
“Sorry,” Kurt says again. “I thought everyone knew. He’s in our class, you know, it’s-“ but Jordan’s already started walking in the other direction.
By the third time it happens, Kurt has begun to get seriously annoyed. With the combined help of Sam and Elliot, Blaine is now able to accompany himself pretty well on guitar, so he’d volunteered to sing for sick kids in the waiting room of a pediatrician’s office on Friday afternoon.
It was sweet and all, but now Blaine is at home, miserable with strep throat, and Kurt is once again alone in combat class.
He stretches while the professor goes over the day’s plan; stretches his legs in front of him and touches his toes, rolls his neck, raises his arms above his head to warm the muscles.
He’s not really even conscious he’s doing it until he glances up to see Julio, Ben, and Andy all staring.
He raises an eyebrow at them, then looks back down and casually begins to fiddle with his ring. When he looks back up, they’re on the other side of the classroom.
Blaine feels like he hasn’t been in combat class all semester. It’s great to be back, learning how to stand and block, seeing Kurt, and feeling high from exercise-induced endorphins.
Professor Key calls out, “Good work today boys! Take a five minute break and rehydrate.”
Blaine stoops down to get his Gatorade out of his bag, straightens, and turns around to see where Kurt is. Kurt is drinking water like he’s just sprinted a mile through the dessert. His throat moves as he swallows, and a little of the water trickles down it, making his skin glisten.
Blaine’s mouth goes a little dry. He starts to go over to him, intends to whisper his plans for after class in Kurt’s ear, when this huge, chiselled guy who Blaine thinks is named Marco, steps in front of him, blocking Blaine’s path. “Back off, half pint. I saw him first.”
Blaine blinks. “Kurt?”
Marco smirks. “Don’t really care what his name is. Mine is the one he’ll be screaming.”
Blaine isn’t sure how Kurt got across the classroom so fast, but he’s suddenly right in front of them, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
Marco laughs. “This little dude was gonna make a move on you. I’m trying to tell him not to waste his time.”
“One?” Kurt says, “I wouldn’t sleep with you if you paid me. And two?” He yanks Blaine forward by a fistful of his shirt and kisses him, hard. It’s a lot more passionate that Kurt would usually allow them to be in public, but who is Blaine to complain?
He cups Kurt’s warm cheek with his hand and lets himself sink into the familiarity of Kurt’s mouth.
When they break apart, they’re both panting a little, but that doesn’t stop Kurt from swivelling back around to face Marco. “Two? Blaine is my fiancé, and you can fuck off.”
They skip the second half of class to split a frozen hot chocolate. Kurt figures they deserve it.
"But in music, it’s the exact opposite; in music, people turn the mirror around and go, “Who are you? What is your statement?” And it’s such an unfair question, because you’re like, “I don’t know!” I’m trying to figure it out, just like you."