more cutesy thinky klaine this time for this art also by andrea
"There's something different about you today, man-Berry."
Blaine stops tinkering with the teapot in the kitchen to frown at Santana, who sits at the small table nearby with her phone out. "I'm not sure I--"
"Morning," says Kurt, who stretches and yawns once he's gotten from his room to the kitchen. Then he gives Blaine a sleepy kiss on the cheek. "It's cold in here."
"You mean when you're not underneath two blankets in bed," Blaine says, smiling. He takes two mugs, simple ones, from the cupboard above his head and sets them aside.
"And when you leave me alone in bed when it's clearly a day to do nothing but cuddle and keep warm."
"It's only October."
"The landlord said that the heat's broken," Santana cuts in. "For some stupid reason they're keeping the air on, probably so he can charge us more like the greedy asshole he is."
"That would explain it," Kurt mumbles. He leans into Blaine and shivers; no wonder he's cold, he's still wearing the t-shirt he'd slept in. Blaine has already dressed, is wearing an old sweater that he couldn't bring himself to leave behind when he moved. "You're warm and fuzzy."
Blaine laughs, soft and easy. "Go put something warm on. The tea will be done by the time you get back and then we can sit out on the fire escape with it."
"Aha!"
They both look at Santana, startled. She grins at Kurt.
"Your puppy of a boyfriend is wearing socks," she explains. "I knew there was something different about him."
"My feet were cold," Blaine protests weakly. "But I didn't have any socks that were thick enough to make much of a difference, so I kind of... borrowed a pair?"
Kurt glances down at Blaine's feet and, sure enough, he's wearing socks, but they're a little too big. Not by much, but just enough that they slide down his ankles a bit and wrinkle. He's not big on feet as a rule, but Kurt thinks it's one of the cutest things he's ever seen.
All of Blaine just gives off an air of comfort and warmth that spreads even though Kurt has taken a few steps back towards their room already. He really wants to forget the tea and ask Blaine to come back to bed with him -- and Blaine would do it, he knows, but he also wants their perfect New York City autumn morning.
He turns around after giving Blaine (who seems worried that he's done something wrong) a reassuring smile and pulls the curtain out of the way again. There's the perfect sweatshirt for the occasion in his closet; Blaine once said that it was his favorite because it hangs baggy and loose on Kurt's body, not nearly as skin-tight as much of his wardrobe is.
Kurt finishes changing, fixes his hair, and returns to the kitchen. Santana has left, presumably to meet up with her latest girlfriend, and it's just Blaine in the kitchen pouring tea into the two mugs. He looks up and beams at Kurt when he notices the sweatshirt.
"Now you're the fuzzy and warm one," he says, handing one mug over. "Shall we?"
Kurt nods and lets Blaine lead him by the hand to the fire escape, where they sit opposite each other. The metal bars don't dig into his back as much as Kurt had expected, probably because the sweatshirt is too thick to let them. There isn't much room between them, though, so Kurt bends his legs at the knee so that Blaine's legs fit between his.
The air, crisp and fresh with autumn's familiar bite, breezes cool over Kurt's skin and reddens his cheeks. It does the same to Blaine, who takes a deep, lazy breath. He's smiling, though not at Kurt or anything in particular. Kurt understands -- it's the city, the way it wakes up with the sun and churns back to life. Because even New York slows down, if only for an hour or two in the dead of night. It's a surreal moment that still hasn't lost its appeal even to Kurt, who has figured out by now that the big city isn't always all it's cracked up to be.
Blaine scoots in closer to Kurt, leans back against the metal bars, and sighs again. "I love mornings like this," he says. "First I get to wake up to you, then I get to wake up a little more to... this," he finishes, gesturing at the street below them with his free hand. "But my favorite part is you."
Kurt nudges Blaine's leg, guides it over his until Blaine's right knee crosses over Kurt's left thigh. It doesn't bring them any closer in distance, but they're a little more tangled this way, like interlocking pieces. Blaine sips his tea with his eyes closed, humming pleasantly. Kurt lets his mug rest on his knee as he watches him.
He has to agree -- his favorite part of waking up when Blaine is here is... well, Blaine. And now Blaine's out here, sharing what was once solely Kurt's place to go when he needed time alone with nothing but city lights and sounds for company. Blaine fits in, he thinks, with the city's morning. He can't quite explain it -- it's the gentle but cheery warmth of his presence, the softness of his voice (especially when he says Kurt's name), and the dark amber of his eyes that seems to reflect the rising sun as its rays jump off of Bushwick's less-than-extravagant architecture.
Kurt is New York's dusk; Blaine is its dawn.
"I love when we have whole days to ourselves," Blaine muses after a while. "It almost never happens."
"I know," Kurt says. "You work, I work, we both have classes..."
"This is kind of special, isn't it?" Blaine asks, and it's probably more of a rhetorical question than anything but Kurt answers it regardless.
"It's nice. Like it's just us and the city, you know?"
Blaine nods. "I wasn't sure how much I'd like it here," he admits. "Being in the city, I mean. I'm not you, I haven't spent years dreaming and hoping for New York."
"You've dreamt of performing, though," Kurt says, because he knows Blaine almost as well as he knows himself by now. It's a little frightening but a lot freeing, that they can talk about practically anything. It's one of those things that has rung true since their days at Dalton and has only gotten better.
"I have, except I never really thought about where I would be performing, exactly. It just... was. But I think this is where I'm supposed to be. It feels right."
"New York is really something," Kurt comments, taking a moment to sip his tea. It has gone a little cold since they've been out here, but it's not unbearable.
"I doubt I could ever wear New York as well as you do, though."
"What do you mean?"
"You belong here, Kurt," Blaine says earnestly, eyes bright and eager. "You could always draw attention at McKinley, but here, even among all these people, you turn heads. It's not what you wear or anything like that, though that's part of it too."
"What is it?"
"It's..." Blaine struggles with his thoughts for a moment. Kurt waits patiently, the sun flashing golden against Blaine's skin as it rises a little more. "You're everything this city means for so many people -- equality, success, an escape from old to new -- and, I don't know, you can just feel it."
"I think you're a little biased, mister," Kurt teases gently.
"Do you remember when we took the subway together last week?" Kurt nods, tilting his head with a slight frown. "I had to catch up to you after we got off, and that's because this guy, kind of old but he seemed nice, he asked me if I knew you. I said yes, and then he told me that you breathe New York. I thought he was a little crazy at the time, but I think I get it."
Kurt, unsure of what to say, settles for squeezing at Blaine's leg just behind his knee. "And who was it that told me to come here in the first place, even though I hadn't been accepted to NYADA?"
Blaine chuckles, shrugging. "I'm sure you'd have found your way soon enough."
"Well, I'm still grateful. Even if it didn't... go too well at first."
"Yeah," Blaine says quietly. He stares at the wall of the apartment complex, and Kurt knows it's coming before he starts. "I'm s--"
"You've apologized enough," Kurt interrupts, squeezing harder to emphasize his point. "What happened, happened, and there's no going back. But that doesn't mean we can't keep moving forward, right?"
Blaine looks like he wants to argue at first, and Kurt's in the middle of assembling a short speech in his head when he smiles. "Right. You're right, as usual."
"Of course I'm right," Kurt huffs, grinning. He reaches for Blaine's hand, the one not holding his mug, and pulls him away from the bars and towards Kurt, who leans forward to kiss him, mellow and brief. "I love you, sweet prince. Even when you steal my socks."
Blaine tries to kiss Kurt again but misses, lips meeting Kurt's nose instead. He laughs, sheepish. "I love you, too."
The tea turns nearly ice cold in the chill of October, but Kurt can't bring himself to care. He's anything but cold himself now, and it's only partly due to his sweatshirt. It doesn't take much longer for the city to wake up completely, the sun white-gold against blue sky, but they stay there for most of the morning, either talking or enjoying each other's presence.
For all his regrets, Kurt appreciates the fact that Blaine's here with him now. The city is theirs to conquer -- no longer just his -- and he can't wait to take on whatever comes next.
