A/N: Just some adorable Klaine-ness. Inspired by a drawing of the same name by Muchacha10 on deviantart. No beta on this, just me looking over my own work, so mistakes are my own. Enjoy!


Kurt's head peeked around the side of the door, smiling when he saw that the practice room was empty. It wasn't that he was afraid to have anyone hear him – Kurt lived for an audience, feeding off the applause that surrounded him – but he just wanted some peace and to spend some time alone. He crossed the room, his shoes shuffling along the Persian rug that covered the floor, and tugged on the cord to the lamp beside the piano, bathing the room in a soft, peaceful golden light.

Kurt dropped his pack beside the black baby grand and slid across the bench, adjusting it to the proper height. Once situated, he let his fingers gently rest on the keys, just brushing the ivories, as he contemplated where and how to begin. He didn't have sheet music so he would have to do the entire thing from memory. Not that he minded. Kurt always felt that sheet music was too restricting anyway. This way, it gave him more room to improvise and add his own twist to things. Yet, he was still unsure where to begin.

"Maybe if I sing it through it once without music, it'll get my mind working," he thought, his mouth twisting slightly.

The countertenor opened his mouth, smiling as the lyrics fell from his lips. He tapped the keys a few times, making sure he stayed on pitch. He swayed where he sat, his voice growing louder, belting it out for the whole academy to hear. But as the song drew to a close, he slowed and quieted, until the last note was barely a whisper.

A wide smile stretched across his face, a million thoughts swimming through his head, memories flooding his brain, all brought about by that song. Shaking his head slightly before brushing his bangs back to their original position, he jumped up off the bench. Shrugging off the stuffy Dalton blazer and loosening his tie, he tossed the jacket on the nearest armchair before settling back down in front of the keys.


Three boys were leaning against one another in the hallway, unable to contain the loud laughter that spilled out of them.

"David, I can't believe you did that," Wes panted, wiping away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. "That was priceless. Kyle's face…"

Nothing else followed as Wes's arm slipped off David's shoulder and his body fell to the ground, cackling loudly. He rolled onto his back, hands clasped over his stomach as he struggled to control his breathing.

"Well, now he'll know better than to mess with someone else's girlfriend," David replied smugly.

"Are you sure it was completely necessary, though? I mean, Diane did kick him, and it must have been pretty hard. If the way was walking around today was any indication…" The third boy's face contorted with pain at the thought, and he blew out a breath from behind his clenched teeth.

David smiled proudly. "That's my girl. And yes, he did deserve it. You think I would just let him get away with that? Nah-uh."

"Plus," said Wes as he hauled his body up from the ground, "didn't it just make your day seeing him walk around school looking like a cockatoo? Even the teachers couldn't stop making bird calls at him."

They all chuckled again. "Yeah, especially Mr. Arthur. Who knew the old, cranky Latin teacher actually had a sense of humor. Must have been hiding under all those wrinkles."

David shook his head. "Nah. What's really amazing is finding someone in this place that uses more hair gel than you." He reached out toward the boy, trying to muss up his perfectly coiffed hair. "How else would I have turned his hair baby blue with streaks of pink?"

"Hey, watch it," he said, jumping back out of David's reach. "This hair has made it through the entire day of classes, as well as being chased all over campus while dodging two shoes, a British history book, a graphing calculator, and a handful of Pavarotti's bird seed. So don't even think I'm going to let you mess it up."

David's hands shot up into the air, surrendering with a smile. "Alright, fine. You win."

"Don't I always?" he quipped with a toothy grin. The boys grew quiet, their laughter high finally wearing off.

Wes's stomach grumbled loudly, and he clapped his hands against his torso. David laughed. "You know that beating it isn't going to make it stop, right?"

"Shut it, you," he said, elbowing David in the ribs. "It's been a long day, and I'm starving."

David nodded. "You got that right. Hey, man, you coming?" He nudged the other boy's arm, trying to get his attention which was fixed on the oak door at the end of the hallway.

"No, uh…you guys go ahead," he said, waving them off distractedly. "There's something I need to do first."

He didn't even wait for Wes and David to respond before he set off down the hall. The closer he got, the louder it became. It wasn't anything recognizable, but someone was definitely playing the piano in the Warblers' practice room. He stopped right outside and pressed his ear against the aged wood, intending to pick out each note so he could place the song. Instead, all he could focus on was the gentle humming that floated above the melody.

His eyes narrowed and a devilish grin stretched across his face as he turned the handle slowly.


Kurt's hands stilled on the keys, his brow furrowed. Turning around, he looked at the door once again.

"I could have sworn I heard somebody…" Kurt thought to himself for the umpteenth time. Turning back to the piano, he let his hands slide across the keys once more, the familiar melody dancing around him.

The boy smiled as he poked his head back around the door. Now that Kurt was playing again, it would muffle whatever sounds he made. He opened the door a fraction and slipped inside, closing it silently behind him. Walking on the balls of his feet, he silently crept up behind the beautiful countertenor until he, for once, towered over him. He leaned forward, opening his mouth as his tongue swept across his teeth, ready to pounce. Kurt's hands leapt from the keys as the floor creaked behind him.

"Ah! Stop it, you crazy…" Kurt's head fell backward as laughter bubbled up and out of him. Two strong arms wrapped around his torso from behind, pinning his arms to his side and pulling him against a warm, toned chest. "Stop it, Blaine! That tickles."

He swatted uselessly at the arms that surrounded him as Blaine smiled, still pressing feather-light kisses up and down Kurt's porcelain neck. Nuzzling his ear, Blaine whispered "But you're so…yummy." Kurt laughed again as Blaine chuckled against his skin, kissing away the goose bumps that had appeared.

"Mmmm…nom nom nom," Blaine growled before kissing the sensitive spot behind Kurt's ear. Blaine unwrapped his arms from around his boyfriend and reached down to grab one of Kurt's hands, pulling him to his feet. "Come on. Let's go grab some dinner. Wes and David will want to tell you all about our exciting afternoon. Although," he said, looking at Kurt, "I'm not so sure I'm all that hungry anymore."

Kurt looked at him questioningly. "How come?

Blaine smiled, tugging Kurt closer and wrapping his arms around him. "Well, my parents always told me to never eat my dessert first. Ruins the appetite."


Okay, so if this is the first thing of mine you've read, I hope you enjoyed it. It was very cute to write and I owe it all to an ADORABLE picture of Kurt and Blaine drawn by Muchacha10. Her Klaine pictures are amazing. Love her stuff.

http:/muchacha10 (.) deviantart (.) com/gallery/#/d3b648g

FEAR READERS: Second, if you've followed me here because you got an alert, I'm SOOOOOOOOOO SORRY this isn't for FEAR. Trust me, I haven't forgotten about it, but I've been stuck. And I mean, STUCK. I don't know where to go and I just don't have the time in my life to sit down and think about it. College is kicking my butt, and I'm in physical therapy twice a week because I had knee surgery, plus friends and just being a college student. I WILL eventually get back to it.

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