Title: Pancakes and School

Pairings: Kurt/Blaine

Rating: R

Word Count: 2277

Summary: The morning before their first day at school Blaine and Kurt have the pleasure of getting ready together. Cockblocking ensues.

A/N: Motherfucking LJ. So I just posted this on tumblr because I'm refusing to work on the epic fic and then be ready to post it and have LJ screw with me. So I joined tumblr...and wrote random fluff. Anyway, then I came over to LJ and it was working just fine. FFS. So now I'm posting it here. Unbetaed because I wrote it an hour ago and it's pretty basic, simple fluff. I still hope I've managed to get everyone in character and hope I've caught the typos. Enjoy it! Review it! Cheers!

PS. I feel it should be the first scene of S3 even though it edged itself towards smutty territory.

So Blaine has transferred to McKinley. It was all a bit of a whirlwind, ridiculous adventure that still hasn't quite settled in as reality for either of them. The first half of the summer was spent clinging and longing and being a touch melodramatic, knowing that going back to school meant hours and hours, every day, separated and alone. Then Blaine had sent him that text late one hot Tuesday night:

I'm transferring to McKinley next year. I'll explain everything tomorrow. Xo

And so the second half of the summer had been spent daydreaming and idealizing being able to spend every single day attached at the hip.

So, overall, summer was, to put it simply, perfect. Even the fights were perfect. Even the week where Blaine had to go with his parents to Portland to visit relatives. Even when Burt caught them on the couch, with Blaine's hands very possibly in his son's pants.

Because after fights and separations and excruciating embarrassment they laughed and kissed and learned new things about each other.

Today is their first day as seniors. Together. Of something more. Of their last year of high school. Neither one says it but it's actually the first day of the last year before the rest of their lives together.

By some magical turn of circumstance, Blaine is getting ready at Kurt's house. When Mr Anderson had found out three days earlier that he had to fly to D.C. on important business, Blaine had listened, barely able to contain his excitement as his parents fought about whose trip was more important—his mother, he heard, had her own career, too. Eventually, they'd begrudgingly agreed to leave Blaine by himself for the weekend with promises that he'd call every night and every morning and assurances that the neighbour would be checking up on him.

Kurt spent the weekend. Of course. And it was the most alone they'd managed to be ever. Some forty eight hours together, mostly just being themselves and revelling in what they had, experimenting, practicing, teasing and kissing and pressing their bodies together in new ways that made their breath catch and their eyes shine. They were teenage boys, after all, and they were honest with each other and in love and thus getting very, very good at getting off together.

Late on the Sunday afternoon they drove back to Kurt's house to eat dinner with Burt and Carole and Finn. That night Blaine slept on the couch, kissing his boyfriend brazenly on the mouth just once before bed and catching Burt looking not quite as upset as expected and Finn looking dopily pleased about something.

Today though, the morning of their first day as seniors, Burt stomps up the stairs and barrels into Kurt's room like there's a fire somewhere. He's looking around, clearly searching with irate, sharp eyes but clearly not finding what he wants.

When he looks back at Kurt, who's clad only in jeans and socks, he softens immediately and feels just a little bit stupid. He's barged in on his son, who is clearly half way to being dressed for school and he's not entirely sure what it was he expected to see. Kurt's got an eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips.

"Where's Blaine?" Burt demands.

Kurt rolls his eyes and turns back to his wardrobe, moving out of sight and then re-emerging with three different shirts which he lays out on the end of his bad while saying, "He's having a shower. We both woke up early and figured we may as well beat Finn to the fridge. I was actually thinking of making everyone pancakes." He pauses to give his father a scathing look. "Is that okay?"

Burt loves those pancakes. And now he notices the sound of running water, the closed door to Kurt's bathroom and the sliver of gold light streaming out from the crack at the bottom. If he concentrates, he thinks he can even hear the sound of someone humming. Now Burt feels just a little more stupid. "You know your door is meant to stay open when he's here."

Kurt's voice raises even higher than usual. "I was getting dressed!"

Again, Burt's brow creases and he purses his lips, fighting a losing battle. If he thinks about it—and he really, really tries not to, ever—he thinks Kurt and Blaine are falling in to love and lust and sex and sneaking around just like every other teenage couple that ever existed. He's not entirely sure he even wants to catch them because what exactly is he going to do? And he likes Blaine. More importantly, he thinks Kurt likes Blaine and he's positive that Blaine likes Kurt back.

"Sorry," he mumbles, still maintaining the hard stare a father is meant to have in these situations. "I'll set up downstairs for you, okay?"

Kurt has no idea what his father means by 'set up' but worries it will involve some misguided attempt to start cooking. Still, it means he's leaving, clicking the door shut behind him and then descending the stairs with enough noise that Kurt knows exactly when he reaches the lower floor.

He sighs and feels a tiny pang of guilt for the sneaking around but it's soon forgotten because he knows, on some strange level, that his dad trusts him to sneak around like this. He delves back into his wardrobe one last time and plucks a forth shirt to lay beside the other three and then begins deliberating. He's lost in the decision making process when Blaine speaks, making him jump just a little.

"Was that Burt I heard in here?"

He's leaning up against the open door of the bathroom, still mostly wet and shiny, one of Kurt's dark red towels wrapped low around his hips. Kurt takes the moment to look him over even though it's all he's done for the last three days. Blaine just smiles back and lets him.

"He thought you were up here ravishing me."

Blaine laughs at that and walks over to stand beside his boyfriend and look down at the shirts. Automatically, his hand moves to the dip of Kurt's back and starts a slow stroke back and forth. He's kind of in love with the curve just there.

"Was he disappointed?" Blaine asks.

"I don't think disappointed is the word, Blaine," Kurt mumbles and settles back against the touch, wondering how much time they have, mentally choosing the blue shirt and chastising himself because he knows he should think about clothes a little bit longer but really…

Blaine seems to sense it and is pulling him in and angling him around and walking him back. He kisses him, soft at first but never tentative anymore, just this light touch of mouths and noses, chins bumping and heat and breath mingling. It's a smart play, pressing Kurt up against the wood of his door and Kurt smiles to think it when he finds himself there, opening his mouth, licking just lightly at his boyfriend's bottom lip and feeling his breath catch. Blaine's hands move out, playing up Kurt's sides, alternating between tickles and scratches and leaning in to kiss his neck lightly because a mark today would be too much.

Chests together, the water from Blaine's shower making the fiction of skin on skin and heat and hair between them slipperier than usual and Kurt wonders why they haven't managed to take a shower together yet. His hands splay greedily over Blaine's chest, fingertips digging in as Blaine licks at that spot just behind his ear and Kurt moans just a little in response because he's never ever going to get tired of that move.

Wedging a leg between Kurt's, pulling him closer and down, just a little, trying to get the upper hand with height he doesn't actually have, Blaine finds Kurt's mouth again, pressing open and wet and sucking his tongue in and letting his teeth bite lightly. Kurt moans and rocks once, hard, into the thigh pressed hard against him. He's well on his way to forgetting about breakfast and school and just locking his door and pushing Blaine back onto his bed.

He likes the way Blaine's skin looks against his sheets. He thinks it has more to do with Blaine than the actual colour aesthetics.

But Blaine presses him back harder, leaning in against him as Kurt presses his mouth to the corner of Blaine's lips and then traces the line of his jaw, gentle and just wet and appreciating how perfectly smooth he is having just shaved. He kisses down the column of his throat, letting his teeth catch at the bump of Blaine's adam's apple twice and then sucking at the hollow at the base of his neck. His hands trace down, pinkie fingers of both hands flicking over nipples on their way to Blaine's abdomen and he's smiling wickedly, decided in what he wants and pressing Blaine back to find the space to sink to his knees and pull the towel away when—

Blaine pushes him back too hard against the door, an astounded 'meep' escaping Kurt's lips as the door presses into him from behind him at an angle and oh, fuck, someone is trying to open it! Wide, shocked eyes meet Blaine's as Blaine presses him back harder again and Kurt leans back hard and Finn's voice rings loudly.

"Hey Kurt!" he sounds like an eager puppy and he's still rattling the door handle and pushing hard, getting it open a couple of inches while Kurt bites hard on his lip because he kind of wants to laugh now that he knows it's not his dad.

"Kurt, there's something blocking your door."

Blaine claps a hand over Kurt's mouth, just managing to catch his laughter but giggling himself. And who knew Finn could identify Blaine just for a breathless giggle.


They're all silent for a few moments, waiting for the penny to drop.

It doesn't.

"Blaine, there's something blocking Kurt's door." Another rattle of the doorknob and Finn throw his entire weight into it, almost toppling both boys to the floor but not quite.

"Yeah, we know, Finn," Kurt calls, exasperated and only managing to get Blaine's hand out of the way with a wet lick and by batting at it with his own hands. "We'll be down in a minute."

Finn stops pushing and it clicks back closed. Blaine has the intelligence to slide his hand around and turn the lock.

"Burt says you're making pancakes?" Finn calls, way too loud, through the wood.

"Yes, Finn."

"I was just gonna ask if you could make those chocolate chip ones I like."

Kurt rolls his eyes and pushes Blaine away, the mood entirely ruined even if his boyfriends doesn't think so and demonstrates it with a quick, lapping kiss and a slide of his hands across Kurt's stomach. When Kurt calls back, "Yeah, Finn, no worries," it's just a little bit breathless.

Blaine laughs at him as they listen to Finn walk back down the stairs and Kurt dodges another kiss, twisting away to pluck the blue shirt from the bed and slide it over his head. When he glances up again, Blaine's walking away from him, tugging the towel from around his hips unabashed and walking butt naked back into the bathroom. He leaves the door open as he starts pulling clothes from his overnight bag, possibly bending just a little more than he needs to, possibly actually shimmying a little extra as he slides into his boxer briefs and then his jeans. He turns back and catches Kurt's eye, watches him blush for being caught staring and smiles triumphantly as he walks back towards him.

"We have to go and make pancakes," Kurt tells him.

"We do." His hands find Kurt's and their fingers intertwine and he's still shirtless and that's a bit unfair.

"And then we have to go to school."


"But we probably have time for one more kiss."


Blaine leans in, holds Kurt's hands tight at their sides, and presses their mouths together, settling with Kurt's bottom lip between his, sucking just gently, waiting for Kurt to press closer and more desperately and taste.

The doorknob rattles loudly again and they spring apart, Kurt with a frustrated groan, Blaine with a small chuckle. Kurt's just about to storm over and say something entirely bitchy when it's Burt's voice, not Finn's, they hear sounding thoroughly displeased. "Kurt, why is this door locked?"

"Shit," Blaine breathes out, wide, terrified eyes meeting Kurt's. Kurt just rolls his again, though there's an edge of fear there too.

"Just a minute," Kurt yells back and Burt rattles the doorknob again.

Kurt looks around, not even sure what he's looking for.

"The pair of you have sixty seconds to be downstairs making me pancakes," Burt yells and it sounds like an enormous concession. "Or so help me god…" he lets it trail off and then stomps down the stairs.

This time, when Blaine leans in for a kiss (and god, despite his reaction, Kurt hopes he'll never stop leaning in for kisses) Kurt slaps him hard against the chest and pushes him back, whispering out, "Sixty seconds," as a warning and then bolting to the door, throwing just one last look over his shoulder at the shirtless, slightly breathless boy who's standing at the foot of his bed.

"Pancakes then school and then I think we will have an hour or two alone before Burt gets home from work. But pancakes and school first," he tells him sternly even though his eyes are still sparkling.