Title: Filth
Author: lovesmymovement
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1029
Pairing: Kurt/Karofsky
Spoilers: Just mostly the Raine kiss in "Blame it on the Alcohol."
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Tis Ryan Murphy's brain child and I take ownership of nothing there. :)
Summary: Kurtofsky future!fic, wherein Kurt and Dave are married, Kurt's his usual prissy self and Dave doesn't like to clean the kitchen. Domestic fic.
A/N: So I wrote this for some people on tumblr, when the tag "OTP: Bickering married couple" came up and I half-wrote this story on a complete whim a couple days later even after saying I probably wouldn't have time, haha.
I'll see if I can put the link my profile page so if you want to see the original thing then you can check that out. :D

Kurt entered the kitchen and came to a dead stop. It was a mess, just plain filthy. There were dishes stacked up on the counter beside the sink, the floor very obviously needed to be mopped, and then… his eyes halted at the bag slouched over on the kitchen floor. Kurt glared at it, eyes becoming slits and mouth forming a thin line.

"Oh David," he sing-songed, still staring at the garbage bag.

"What, babe?"

Kurt followed his voice, although he really didn't need to. He knew where David would be as soon as Kurt came home from work – sitting on the couch, watching the sports wrap-up on ESPN. Kurt walked through the disgusting kitchen, slumping against the frame of the entryway to the room and arms folding across his chest as he plastered a fake, tight smile on his face. "How was your day?" he chirped.

Dave smiled over at him, big and wide as he turned down the volume just slightly on the TV. "Good. Yours?"

"Oh, you know, same old same old. Clients being insufferable know-it-alls as they try to plan their own damn wedding even though they hired a wedding planner." Kurt's arms fell to his sides as he walked over to the couch where David sat. "So, uhm… did you see the kitchen yet today since you've been home?"

"What?" Dave asked, distracted, as he tried to see what was going on on the television. "Oh, that?"

"Yes, David, that."

"Don't worry about it, I'll get to it in a minute."

"…You do realize those are almost the exact words you used three days ago?"

Dave stared at him blankly.

"David, the kitchen is still not clean. And I told you to take the garbage out three days ago," said Kurt, going into full on bitch mode.

"Dude, chill! Sorry, jeez, I'll do it right now, god!" Dave cried, practically jumping off of the couch and ready to run to the kitchen at the speed of lightning.

"It's too late now. I'll take it out myself, since you're so unreliable and apparently can't be bothered to do when I actually tell you to."

Dave knew that tone. It was the one that terrified human beings for miles around, the one that meant he was definitely in trouble but that he wasn't going to tell Dave just how much trouble or what was going to happen to him if he didn't do what Kurt asked. It was the scariest tone of voice that Kurt possessed because of the unknown consequences to his actions (or lack thereof). "Oh god, please don't make me sleep on the couch tonight, please no, please, please no…"

Kurt rolled his eyes and glared, staring Dave straight in the eyes. "I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch tonight just because you didn't take the garbage out or clean the kitchen. That'd be stupid. The only way you'd be sleeping on the couch is if you slept with Blaine or something. Or went bicurious on me like he did with Rachel junior year."

Dave stared at him in confusion. "…Wait, what? Dapper Hobbit Boy went bicurious junior year? What the fuck? How did I not know about this?"

Kurt's face fell, mouth open and eyes wide at his slip of the tongue. "Oh. Crap. I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Pretend you didn't hear that. Uhm… Okay, we never mention this to Blaine and I'll take the garbage down myself and we'll call it even, 'kay?" he proposed with a nervous smile.

Dave grinned. "Awesome. Love you, dude."

Kurt's eyes got a tingle in them and he grinned back at Dave saucily. "I love you too, Davey Bear."

The other man glared at him. "I thought I told you never to call me that."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. "And I told you to never call me 'dude'. Besides, who's taking the garbage down now, when you should've done it three days ago, hmm?" he countered but through the bitchy façade Dave could still see the love that lingered there underneath. "Now kiss me before I get mad about the fact that you still haven't kissed me or even said a simple hello to me ever since you heard me come in the door when I got home."

Dave mock-sighed and leaned down, placing a chaste but loving kiss there on Kurt's lips. When he went to pull away, he found himself still attached to Kurt's mouth, even more so when Kurt deepened the kiss, giving Dave a full-on mouth attack. Kurt sighed into the kiss, arms wrapped around Dave's shoulders and lips moving slowly against Dave's. Dave growled and flipped them around so that Kurt's ass hit the back of the couch, sticking his tongue down Kurt's throat and was planning on doing a full-scale inquiry of the inside of his mouth when Kurt broke off, gasping for air heavily. He pulled away from Dave, turning them back around so that Dave was the one up against the couch and calmly composed himself.

Kurt swallowed heavily. "Right. Now I'm going to take that garbage out and I expect that when I come back upstairs you will be busy working away at cleaning up that disaster of a kitchen. I have absolutely no idea what you did in there today with whatever little 'cooking experiment' you were conducting but I can only guess that the mixture of flour, Aunt Jemima's pancake syrup, paprika, and ice cream cannot be anything good. So I want you to be cleaning – quite quickly, might I add – like a madman when I get back up here because you're going to be fucking me into the mattress the entire night long." Kurt's voice was even higher than usual, full of pent up sexual frustration, and Dave nearly groaned at the pitch. "Feel free to ogle me as I walk away." Dave couldn't stop himself from doing just that, eyes following Kurt's backside as the other man grabbed the garbage and walked out the front door of their third floor apartment.

One thing was for sure: life with Kurt Hummel was never boring.