[It’s the rise and fall of beating heat full on his palm that finally drew him to stir from sleep, squinting and frowning and bumping his nose on Blaine’s cheek before logic turned a sleepy eye on him and nudged over the obvious - oh, oops, he’d fallen asleep. At one point or another before control against total blissful unconsciousness had dragged him way deep down, he’d swaddled Blaine in close to his chest like there were something ready to take him away, and Kurt slowly stretched himself out, sighing and scrunching up, and finally resting out flat on his back to look up at Blaine’s ceiling with one arm tucked comfortably behind his head.
He had words for the way his waking thoughts slowly formed, the way his eyes inevitably blinked over to focus on the lax freeness blanketed gently along Blaine’s features, and it definitely was enough to put several large cheese factories out of business. Disney movie-ish, romance novel-esque. Kurt slouched beside him and peeled the sheets back a fraction, skimming his fingers down the vague veins mapping out endless trails down his arms; His palm hovered and settled cautiously light over the plane of his stomach as his nose nudged searchingly at the sharp edge of Blaine’s jaw, and he brushed a fleeting press of his lips down where his neck smelled best. That man looked beautiful enough to hurt.
What woe it was to have to find his shoes and wander away, the odd metallic taste of the ball clicking against the back of his teeth all the while he pittered around, measuring out a pot of coffee to brew and returning to the apartment not ten minutes later with a muffin and a heart scribbled messily on the paper bag. He’d be late to work, but, well. Priorities. His eyes gave it all just one last look over, to roam from door to door and wall to wall, to chairs and the couch, the windows, and Blaine’s room, then gave a curt little nod in affirmation to some wordless question, and slipped away out the front door.]
Before he was truly awake, Blaine was aware of two things: the smell of coffee wafting through the air and the empty space beside him. He’d worked up alone more times in his life than with someone by his side, but it had been a heart-wrenching habit to have to break. Even though he wasn’t sure what time it was or where his limbs were or if he was even really awake, Blaine was positive that the body that was supposed to be beside him simply wasn’t. He forced his eyes open, not particularly thrilled to see that he’d been right. It took him a long moment to remember why Kurt had been in his apartment in the first place, and the first memory that flooded back was more of a feeling than a picture. He’d been held together by someone else’s arms, gently protected by a man with a metal barbell through his musical tongue.
With a groan, Blaine managed to sit up, the sheets pooling around his waist. He glanced at his clock - just thirty minutes into Kurt’s shift - before rolling out of bed, glad for his thin cotton sheets and AC in the humid New York summer. A glance to Gershwin’s bed showed him the dog was still asleep, clearly not interested in morning libations. The sub wandered into his kitchen, following the scent of exotic beans before a smile lit up his face. Sitting on the counter, next to the coffee machine, was a crumpled paper bag with a heart scribbled on it. Blaine grabbed a mug and filled it, sprinkling just a bit of cinnamon in before moving to the island to eat. He slowly ate his muffin, savoring it for both the flavor and the intention behind it.
This was the right way to start a morning, he thought, staring down into his empty mug. Only Kurt’s presence would have made it complete, but Blaine hadn’t felt this peaceful in a long time. Another glance at the brown graffitied bag sent typed words echoing though his mind, “how about I take care of Blaine, and you keep your nose out of his business?" Was this what that felt like? He wasn’t sure, but Blaine was more than happy to wait it out and see. He hopped off his stool, more energized for the day than he’d been in along while. Gershwin didn’t wake as he walked across the room to the bathroom, taking off his clothes as he went until he entered the bathroom completely nude. As usual he avoided catching glimpses of himself in the mirror, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face even as he fiddled with the water temperature. He stepped in the shower, silent for a few moments before singing, "I got rhythm, I got music, I got my guy, who could ask for anything more?"