Continuation of Compatibility.

Sleepy Kurt is cuddly … with everyone.

Written for Caitlin, aka Keitorin Asthore.

I absolutely adore her, so when I saw this prompt on her blog I couldn't resist.

The full prompt is: "I have a tendency that, when I get tired, I rub my face. It starts off as rubbing my eyes, then my face, then I start rubbing my face on things, like the couch or P's shoulder. I think Kurt need this quirk. Maybe he does it to everyone without realizing it."

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit. All recognizable dialogue belongs to Ryan Murphy and Co.


"Porcelain!"

Kurt jolts upright, narrowly avoiding clubbing Quinn in the chin with his head. "I did not give permission for any cat naps!" Sue Sylvester bellows, still holding the megaphone close to her mouth. "If I catch anyone else attempting to catch some shut eye on my watch, they will run an extra fifteen laps around the field! Now I wanna see those legs moving!"

Moving slowly, doing his best not to groan as stiff muscles stretch, Kurt shakes his head a little in disbelief before settling into a brisk jog beside Quinn.

He doesn't know what inspired him to rejoin the Cheerios for their mid-season tournament. Maybe he was proud that he could still fit into his old uniform without having to bump up to another size. Or maybe he simply enjoyed the strenuous workouts that left him with a satisfyingly exhausted feeling by the end of the day. Either way, the look of almost reverence on Blaine's face when Kurt first revealed his uniform was worth the unexpected reunion.

Still, he had been enjoying a rather lovely impromptu nap on Quinn's shoulder when Coach Sylvester's war cry rang out.

Looking around, he notices that most of the girls are still jogging along the track, exhausted but determined. Almost all of them are so close that they are nearly sisters - still fearless and fiesty on the outside, but close and protective within the tightly-knit unit - and Kurt fits into the supporting role of male performer easily. Once the male cheerleader that came down with bronchitis returns for the last competition, Kurt will gladly surrender his position as temporary replacement. Until then, he almost enjoys the brutal routines.

"So what - are you - and Blaine - doing - for Prom?" Quinn asks conversationally.

"I don't know yet," Kurt huffs, quickening his pace as Sue continues to crack the verbal whip. "I still have to coordinate our outfits."

"No kilt?"

"No," Kurt admits, only a slight tinge of sadness in his voice. Their conversation dwindles off as Coach Sylvester howls across the field for them to move it. Fearing her wrath otherwise, Kurt willingly matches the pace of the other Cheerios, glad that he hasn't lost his endurance over time.

By the time practice draws to a close, Kurt is rubbing his eyes almost incessantly. He notices Quinn watching from the corner of his eye and offers her a wry smile as he drops his hands. He brushes the worst of the sweat from his arms with a clean towel in the locker rooms, wrinkling his nose at the thought of showering down here. He knows that none of the other boys mind doing so, and most of the girls take advantage of their respective showers as well, but there's something about public showers that still makes his skin crawl.

He hurries to collect his belongings before Sue can catch him 'dawdling' and make him run another few laps to 'trim those pear hips.'

Blaine is already waiting in the parking lot, leaning against the side of his red Jeep and soaking in the afternoon sun, a warm smile on his face as he spots Kurt. Kurt sashays across the parking lot, offering a broad grin in return as he pecks Blaine's lips quickly, giving his hands an equally fleeting squeeze before ducking into the passenger side of his car.

"So, how was practice?" Blaine asks, sliding into the driver's seat as Kurt begins fiddling with the dashboard, adjusting everything to his preferences.

"Exhausting," Kurt says, "but also kind of fun." Before the sprints, that was. Coach Sylvester let them break out the jump ropes as an homage to one of their more successful routines in the past before those. Though Kurt couldn't say that his improvement was phenomenal, he was better-coordinated than his younger self, and so the jump-roping wasn't as punishing as he was expecting. It was almost fun, once he fell into a rhythm, and even with the laps around the field to dampen his overall jocularity, his good mood persisted.

Kurt almost misses the fact that they've reached his house until a crackle of thunder awakens him. He blinks groggily, surprised, and looks up at the sky, baffled by the change. "Where'd that come from?" he mutters inanely, unbuckling his seat belt slowly and letting Blaine take his hands and tug him gently from the car.

It's a simple matter to get inside his house and toe off his shoes. He gratefully accepts Blaine's assistance in removing the jacket he's drawn carefully over his shoulders after practice. With a light, almost teasing pat to his hip and a gentle nudge towards the stairs, Blaine admonishes, "Go take a shower."

Kurt grumbles something incoherent in reply, dragging his feet and slouching his shoulders. His previous enthusiasm waned and his endurance tempered with time, he sloughs through his routine, barely managing to keep his eyes open enough to distinguish between shampoo and conditioner bottles in the shower itself. He hums absentmindedly to himself as he scrubs off the workout of the day, soaking it through his hair and only startling a little as another grumble of thunder nudges him along.

He steps out of the shower refreshed and cleansed, pulling one of the downy towels around his hips as he walks through his skin care routine. It only takes a few minutes before he's tugging on a comfortable pair of pants and a loose-fitting shirt, dragging on some socks and styling his hair back into its usual coif.

Yawning to himself and rubbing the back of his neck, he blinks in surprise as he steps out of the bathroom and smells the warm waft of cookies from below. He can smell the faintest whiff of cinnamon mingling with a rich chocolate flavor. Humming contentedly, he pads downstairs and smiles at Blaine as he teases the tray out of the oven with a single oven mitt, offering Kurt a smile as he spots him by the threshold.

"You're perfect," Kurt murmurs, approaching and grazing his cheek against Blaine's shoulder once, companionably. He settles into a rhythm, however, his cheek brushing back and forth against the material until a gentle hand cups his cheek and the surface underneath it moves. Kurt sighs at the loss, quieting when Blaine kisses his lips once, tenderly.

"You're adorable."

"And you're too good for me," Kurt replies, picking a cookie off the tray gingerly and relishing the way it almost melts in his hand. "When did you learn to become such a good chef?" he adds, chewing along the edges of the cookie and willing it to last.

Blaine chuckles, slinging his arms around Kurt's waist and shrugging modestly. "Practice," he says simply, smiling up at Kurt.

Smiling back, Kurt steals a pair of cookies before leading them one-handedly towards the living room. Familiarity makes it easy for them to settle comfortably on the couch, limbs entangled and Kurt's long legs making room for Blaine's in between. Kurt bites off small pieces of his cookies, occasionally offering them to Blaine, who playfully accepts from his fingertips. When the crumbs are gone and there's nothing left, however, they seem to sink down even further against the couch, holding each other close until it's difficult to say who's supporting who.

"I love you," Blaine murmurs against his collarbone. Kurt feels his heart skip a beat as the same warm, familiar wash of pleasure tides over him.

"I love you, too."


Author's Notes: Review?