A/N: Hello, everyone! Have some more Klaine fluff! I'm not sure how I feel about this one - too specific? Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! Much love!
"You don't listen to this foolishness."
"I am so much more musically diverse than you give me credit for, Kurt Hummel."
"This is just 'Pure Imagination' hacked up into slices with a bunch of 'wubwubwubwubwubs' in uncomfortable places."
"It's dubstep, baby."
Blaine and Kurt were studying on Blaine's bed. It had been easier to work on homework like this when they went to the same school; now that Kurt was back at McKinley, he didn't have as much work to do as Blaine. He spent a lot of time laying on his stomach, his feet in the air behind him, ankles crossed, staring at his boyfriend and making snarky comments about the room.
"If he was dead, Gene Wilder would be rolling over in his grave." Kurt sniffed, rolling over to hit the "next" button on Blaine's iHome, ignoring the soft 'heeey' of disapproval from the bed. The speakers were suddenly playing a heavy drum beat. Kurt rolled back over and nipped at Blaine's shoulder. "Could you write a little faster, please? As much as I like looking at you I like kissing you considerably – is this a Ke$ha song?"
Blaine sighed as he looked up into his boyfriend's accusing eyes. "Yes. I mean, technically it's an electro remix, but – "
Kurt gave a melodramatic sigh and flopped face down into the comforter. The fabric smelled overwhelmingly like Blaine and it was difficult for Kurt to pull his face back out of it, but he managed when Ke$ha started singing about getting her hotpants on and up. "OK, this is ridiculous. I mean, not that I don't fully approve of hotpants and everything, but they have a time and a place. Not to mention this sounds like it's coming through one of those tin-can telephones."
"It's a filter, Kurt, for effect."
"It's awful." Kurt reached an arm over and felt blindly for the skip button again. This time a chorus of whistles filled the room. "OK, what is this?" The voices over the speaker started singing. "Did… did they just say 'holy moly, me oh my, you're the apple of my eye?' WHAT IS THIS?"
"It's Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, it's called 'Home', and really, it's not a bad song if you just listen to it, the message is incredibly sweet and doesn't it make you feel sort of nostalgic?"
Kurt blinked at Blaine, disbelieving. "My Lord, I'm in love with a hipster."
The slightest hint of a smile pulled at Blaine's full lips. "Just because you don't like the same music I do... wait, what are you doing?"
Kurt had stood up and started rifling through drawers. "All right, where is it? You might be underage but I know you've got a case of PBR around here somewhere."
Blaine couldn't help but laugh. "What are you talking about?"
"I can't believe it took me until just now to realize that my boyfriend is a hipster! I mean, really, how did I miss it? Look at you!" Kurt grabbed a framed picture of the two of them off Blaine's dresser. "You are wearing saddle shoes and a bowtie in this picture. A bowtie. I'm all for daring fashion, choices, baby, but come on, like that's normal." He returned the picture and picked up Blaine's beloved pink sunglasses. "And these? Honestly?" Kurt whumped back onto the bed. "You're actually wearing American Apparel right now, aren't you? Hip-ster."
Blaine watched in silent amusement as Kurt got up again, pacing.
"You have a koi pond. You make your own Italian sodas – who does that? Hell, the other night you took me to a coffee shop in the hollowed-out fuselage of an airplane and made me watch amateur fire-dancing. You're a hipster, Blaine, an enormous hipster, and that's all there is to it!"
Kurt fell quiet and collapsed on the bed again, looking at Blaine for the first time since starting his rant. His boyfriend just looked at him, his cinnamon eyes sparkling. Kurt realized that the whistling and clapping and general folksiness of "Home" was gone, and in its place was…
"This isn't – "
"Yeah, Kurt, it's Marvin Gaye."
"I'm finding it really hard not to be attracted to you right now."
Blaine closed his textbook. "And why wouldn't you want to be attracted to me? And if you feel, like I feel, baby – then come on, oh, come on… let's get it on…"
"Damn you, Blaine Anderson." And then Kurt was kissing his favorite hipster until he saw stars.
Blaine enjoyed the moment, knowing it would end in about four minutes when Kurt realized this was the extended drum 'n' bass remix.