Author: Regala Electra
Spoilers: Post-S3 On My Way, no major spoilers
Warnings: Language, Mild Sexual Content
Word Count: 1,323
Summary: The one where Blaine wants to be a househusband and that's okay.
Author's Notes: Future!fic. Inspired by the adorable Glee yearbook. With thanks to whenidance for reading this today and encouraging me to write domestic fic. <3 Inaccuracies regarding the New York musical world are on me, but hey, I’m still probably more accurate than Glee.
Kurt’s still got his mind on rehearsals for his latest show when Blaine sits him down (which Kurt appreciates as he’s incredibly sore and Blaine insists that they sit on their comfortable couch) and informs him that Blaine’s show is closing.
Before Kurt can get out a single condolence, Blaine smiles, bright and easy, and kisses him gently at the corner of his mouth. “I’m so relieved.”
“What?” It doesn’t make any sense, but then Blaine’s yet to experience having a show falter before making it to previews, something that Kurt’s experienced twice, both of them personally heartbreaking since he’d loved both productions. This is only Blaine’s second Broadway show and it had done so well during the holidays that Kurt assumed it would make it past the January slump.
Blaine shrugs. “There were more empty seats each night and with Evelyn leaving to make that pilot in Los Angeles, they decided it was time.”
“I’m sorry, Blaine.” Kurt pauses because Blaine appearing calm isn’t too surprising as their couch does have the amazing power of relaxing anyone (their regular houseguests constantly thanked them for buying the best couch ever) but still, Blaine seems too okay with this all. “I thought you enjoyed being on the show?”
“I do, well, did,” Blaine amends and there, the tiny crack in the façade, enough to show that Blaine is regretting the closing. “But doing every performance was pretty draining.”
“And that’s why understudies exist,” Kurt points out.
“I know.” Blaine bites his lip. “Patrick’s great, too. But I really hated the idea of missing a day.”
“Yes. I know, Blaine,” Kurt says a little dryly, a few specific incidents coming to mind. They’ve been together for too long for there to be any reason in bringing it up as it would only lead to pointless arguments and they are equally driven, after all. “I was there.”
“Sorry,” Blaine says, an immediate reflex. “I guess I was a bit of a diva at times.”
Kurt rolls his eyes and cups the side of Blaine’s face. His fingers graze along Blaine’s jaw, shaved close and scrubbed clean of his matinee stage makeup. It’s an effort raising his arms as he’d had been working on lifts with Kristin barely an hour ago but to not touch Blaine, that would be ridiculous. Blaine nudges his face until he can rub his bottom lip against Kurt’s thumb. It tickles a bit and Kurt can’t help chucking at the sensation.
He says finally, with as much solemnity as he can manage, “I think I can forgive diva attitudes in this household.”
Blaine licks his lips, tongue flicking against Kurt’s thumb and oh, that feels far too distractingly good. He pulls back a bit, his eyes dark and serious. “About that. Um. So I think, no, I don’t think, I’ve sort of already made my mind about it. I’m definitely going to take a break.”
Kurt waits for Blaine to continue, his hand drifting down Blaine’s neck, arm (squeezing a bicep for good measure), settling at the crook of Blaine’s elbow.
“From working?” he asks, nudging Blaine to proceed.
Blaine frowns, his hands hesitantly resting on Kurt’s thighs. He starts gently massaging the aching muscles in Kurt’s legs, which is unfair but Kurt lets him until the worry starts easing from Blaine’s face. “For a little while at least. Kind of like an enforced vacation. Stay-cation. At home. Here,” Blaine clarifies.
“I would hope after all this time, you’d think of this as home.”
“Well, you’re here,” Blaine says, bowing his head in a happy, damn near dreamy sigh.
“Blaine, you can’t say things like that.” Wonderful, romantic silly things that Kurt should be over since he is a grown and married adult. Still he can’t help the warm, happy buzz under his skin and the urge to throw caution to the wind and throw clothes to the floor. (That’s how Kurt knows it’s serious: being reckless with his clothes.) “We have to talk about this before we have sex.”
“Oh, is sex on the agenda?”
Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Is it ever off?”
“We’ve been so busy lately,” Blaine says. “And tired.”
“Says the man who fell asleep during.”
Blaine pouts. “One day you’ll forgive me for that. It was finals week. Years ago.”
“It was traumatic,” Kurt lies, because at the time, it had been more mortifying (Kurt had been moments away from orgasm and had to stop because well, Blaine fell asleep) and now with time on their side, it’s merely a funny sex story, one that Kurt enjoys using when necessary.
Now is necessary, seeing as Kurt wouldn’t be opposed to Blaine climbing into his lap and having his wicked way with Kurt and they’re not done talking.
“Yeah, yeah,” Blaine says dismissively, slipping a quick kiss against a tender spot beneath Kurt’s jaw. “You still married me, so I win.”
“I like to think that we both won,” Kurt says and it’s a miracle he can say words when Blaine’s making a slow trail down the side of his neck. Blaine nudges his nose a little, encouraging Kurt to lean his head back to grant him more access. “We’re getting very off-topic.”
Blaine’s hands move away and before Kurt can complain about the lack of contact, Blaine’s shifted position, his legs swinging over Kurt’s lap. “You’re right. It’s for selfish reasons.”
“Honey, I’m not giving you a foot massage right now.”
“No, I mean the break.” Blaine’s gaze flickers to the opposite wall before he looks at Kurt, his expression steady and calm. “I love performing, obviously, but you’re about to start a show I know is going to be incredible. We both know how intense everything gets. I can afford to take a little time off and I’d love to just be here for a while.”
“And you don’t want to be doing anything?”
Blaine’s smile is the exact opposite of innocent. “Well, I believe I would be honored to perform househusband duties for Kurt Hummel, artiste extraordinaire.”
Kurt tries very hard not to stare at Blaine’s mouth. “For how long?”
“A few months, at most. I’m not stopping completely, maybe I’ll do some auditions and there are always charity benefits, but I love the idea of being home before you get here.”
Blaine shifts a bit, his legs curling up so he can settle closer to Kurt, resting an arm over the top of the couch. He settles his head on Kurt’s weary shoulder.
“I’ll vacuum in my underwear.”
Kurt laughs, low and gentle, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s forehead. “You do that already.”
“And I love it when you watch.”
Kurt groans. “Okay. If you promise not to rearrange anything in my sewing room—”
“Your sewing closet—”
“Room,” Kurt insists, even though it’s hardly bigger than the walk-in closet in their bedroom.
“I wouldn’t dare.” Blaine starts picking at Kurt’s buttons, sliding his fingers in between the openings. “It’ll be awesome.”
“If you start working on any home improvements, I get final call on interior design decisions.”
Blaine snorts. “Like I’d even dare without you.” He’s got Kurt’s shirt unbuttoned now and is working on unzipping Kurt’s jeans.
“This would be easier if you weren’t lying on my lap like that.” Before Blaine can give him a snarky response, Kurt pushes him back into the couch, his muscles slightly protesting but it’s a good ache.
There’s no need to rush yet and Kurt drinks in the breath of the moment, caught up in staring at Blaine. Blaine’s hands are at his waist, the touch a comfort, his legs spread open to let Kurt align himself flush against his body. Kurt can’t help being seized with the clarity of being nearly enveloped with his husband.
“Kurt, I promise this will be good.”
“Hey,” he says. “That’s my line.”
Blaine breathes “Okay,” against Kurt’s mouth before their lips connect in a slow, deep kiss.