twentysomething

Title: Your Laugh Is The Best Sound

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Kurt/Blaine

Summary: "The worst thing about it, is that you know, the piano, guitar- those are normal swooning instruments. The piano is about passion and skill- precision. The guitar is sexy- it's like cradling a body and making music come out of it- it doesn't really get sexier than that.

But Blaine is playing a ukulele and Kurt's heart is still melted like a Peep in the microwave. "

Length: 730 wordsish.

Warnings: RAINBOW COLORED VOMIT: AS merelyn SAID, "EVERYTHING IS GAY AND NOTHING HURTS"

Notes: So, this morning, as I was hungover as fuck from doing anthropology (that's really not a metaphor), prettybird sent me this scan from the upcoming Entertainment Weekly with the boys on the cover. Naturally, my heart exploded in a shower of baby bunnies eating dandelions and shit, and I wrote this in a haze of insanity. (Notably, this is my third fic named after a Taylor Swift song. Jesus Fucking Christ.)


Kurt supposes it's a cliche.

It doesn't really stop him from turning dewy-eyed and fatuous the moment Blaine picks up a musical instrument, though.

The worst thing about it, is that you know, the piano, guitar- those are normal swooning instruments. The piano is about passion and skill- precision. The guitar is sexy- it's like cradling a body and making music come out of it- it doesn't really get sexier than that.

But Blaine is playing a ukulele and Kurt's heart is still melted like a Peep in the microwave.

They're in one of the common rooms, a bunch of Warblers, some hallmates, just guys goofing around, and Blaine is playing Taylor Swift on a ukulele and Kurt can't catch his breath, and it's just so unfair.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this," David says apologetically, perching on the arm of Kurt's chair. "But the hearts are in your eyes again. Just, so you know." Kurt fights the urge to bury his face in his hands and not come out until he's suffocated himself to death.

"Do you think there's a leper colony or something in Ohio that would take me?" Kurt mutters. "Molokai is a little expensive this time of year." David claps him on the back in the traditional "Buck Up, Sailor" slap of men.

"Could be worse," David shrugs philosophically. "You're not actually a leper?" Kurt just stares at him until he goes away.

"Are you worried about leprosy?" Blaine asks from immediately to his left. Kurt nearly jumps out of his skin, because Blaine has never snuck up on him like that before. Although, if he's being honest with himself, it's probably because he's usually staring wistfully at Blaine- too much for him to actually be able to sneak up on him.

"Not today," Kurt eventually decides on. Blaine raises his eyebrows.

"But a fear indeed," Blaine pronounces with a querulous strum of the ukulele he still has in his hands. "I can understand that." Kurt finds himself smiling, slow and reluctant.

"So, you worry about leprosy," Kurt tries. Blaine grins.

"Well, I worry about leprosy for you." Blaine explains. "Your face is kind of cute. Wouldn't want any of it to fall off." Kurt's heart stops with an awkward stutter.

"No," Kurt manages, what feels like twenty minutes later.

"That would be bad," Blaine agrees, still smiling his mercilessly perfect and white-toothed smile that makes Kurt feel like someone's squeezing him.

"I realized this might be a lot of pressure to put on you," Kurt hears himself saying, like he's having an out of body experience, "But if you're ever planning on kissing me, I'd really like you to do it right now." Blaine's fingers slip across the strings, making a little squawk that would be funny if Blaine's face wasn't exponentially closer to Kurt's, and holy shit that worked.

Realistically, Kurt knows that kissing is just two people mashing their lips together- really knows that- but this still feels like YouTube videos of kittens piled together and Liz Lemon high-fiving a million angels, because it's Blaine and because he wants this.

"Since you asked so nicely," Blaine whispers in the extremely small space between them. Kurt's face hurts, he's smiling so hard.

"While I'm asking nicely," Kurt says, high on adrenaline and maybe acid, because this is feeling more and more like a super-amazing trip. "Would you do that again?" Blaine purses his mouth coyly.

"Please?" he prompts. Kurt feels a ridiculous giggle trip out of his mouth, completely involuntary, just because he's running out of room to keep happiness bottled up inside.

"Please," Kurt adds dutifully, and Blaine kisses him again, which is broken up by several shrieks of "THANK GOD" from around the room, which makes Kurt laugh and Blaine sigh.

"It's like a guy can't ukulele serenade another guy any more," Blaine says, mock-mournful and Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Maybe stick to Katy Perry," Kurt advises, "Taylor is played out." Blaine just narrows his eyes at Kurt with a scheming little quirk of his lips that Kurt would like to kiss off his face.

"It's a love story, baby, just say yes," Blaine croons quietly, strumming along and okay, yeah.

"Alright, Taylor can stay," Kurt concedes and Blaine kisses him in victory.