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Blue Puppies and Orange Juice

By skwirelygurli


Blue Puppies and Orange Juice

Blue Puppies and Orange Juice, a Glee fiction

I do not own Glee. Please review or leave prompts!

Kurt closes the door behind him. Blaine's parents aren't home yet, but it gives them some sense of privacy. Even if they are only reading magazines and talking to each other. Because one of them will inevitably say something cute, resulting in a kiss. If wearing a giant bow on his head would make him any cuter, Kurt would do it. Okay, maybe not, because it would mess up his hair. He supposes that if he was extremely sexy he'd be getting kissed too. But it would be much more rushed and frantic, and much more embarrassing to be caught by the parents doing. Or he might accidentally hit Blaine's bad eye, and he doesn't want to inhibit the healing process. The sooner he's back at McKinley, the better.

"How was school?Anything interesting happen?" He drinks from a half empty bottle of orange juice.

"The things you miss." Kurt takes his hand, once it's free of the bottle. "The usual, with Rachel trying to find a song for Regionals, and Sam trying to woo Mercedes. And Finn being, well Finn."

In the cafeteria, Finn is sitting at the lunch table. He's surrounded by the rest of New Directions. A student in a green striped shirt and khaki pants walks past.

"Am I the only one who thinks he looks like that guy off Blue's Clues?" Kurt points to the boy. Without Blaine, there's nobody to distract him from the fashion disasters walking past. All week he's been giving them makeovers in his head. It's been a great distraction, especially when the hot new Spanish teacher visited the glee club. Blaine had caught onto his crush when he told him about it that afternoon. So much jealousy shot out of his eye.

"Steve? He never changed his clothes. Did he at least change his underwear? And what was so hard about the word 'clue'? How did he ever pass high school, let alone go to college? Then Joe comes along and wears different shirts, so you know there had to be a washer in the house. Maybe he had like, 5 of the same outfit. He did a green load and a brown load. So his underwear were probably either green or brown. Did the washer talk like everything else? I'd hate to be the bar of soap. He'd get an eye and mouthful of them. And if Blue was such an odd puppy, being blue and all, did she use the toilet or the backyard? Why couldn't it be a normal brown puppy? They could have called it Brown's Clues."

Finn pauses to take a breath, and Puck cuts him off before he can go any further. "Okay, who gave Hudson coffee?" He picks the travel mug off the table. It's empty.

"I was up late last night cramming for my history test. I have to get my grades up if I want to get into a school near Rachel this fall." He takes hold of her hand, and the ring gleams in the artificial light above them.

"Nothing's official yet Finn," she gushes. Her voice sounds full of ease, like she has this. But she's freaking out as badly as Kurt is. Because they want this. He wants it so bad, but he wants Blaine too. Can it work both ways?

"Where'd he get all the kids? Did he store them in a closet or something?" Brittany points out. Eyes flicker from Rachel's ring to her. She piles up another spoonful of corn. "You know, the ones that tell him where all the clues are?"

Blaine shakes his head. "Only New Directions would make Steve sound like a dirty pedophile."

"There's such a thing as a clean one?" Kurt asks. Blaine leans forward and kisses his cheek. See, it does pay to be cute.

"You know what I mean. Whatever happened to him anyway?" He leans back into his pillow.

Kurt shrugs. "He went off to college and nobody has heard from him since."

"When you go off to college, I'm going to hear from you, right?" His voice trembles. Only a little, because he knows the answer. At least he hopes he does. He shouldn't have anything to worry about.

"Blaine, I am utterly in love with you. Even if I have to personally ship in my luggage to New York, you will not be able to get rid of me." Kurt reaches a hand forward, careful to dodge the open orange juice.

Blaine takes his hand, and tugs him forward. Kurt nearly topples over, landing on the space of the bed Blaine has so generously cleared for him. He drops his hand. Then he moves his own hands to the sides of Kurt's face. He knows where this is going.

He hopes that his parents hit some traffic on their way home. If not, he's sure they'll get a lovely eyeful. As in, his fully clothed backside propped in the air. A side of Kurt that they have yet to see. Unless they've been watching him walk away when he leaves the house for the night. But he's pretty sure that Blaine is the only Anderson that pays much attention to him.

The neighbor cat screeches. The sudden noise pulls them apart. And it's a good thing too, because the clock says that they'll be here any minute. It's a Friday night, so they'll probably check on him and then leave for dinner. All it takes is sixty seconds to make the impression that they are acting like perfectly appropriate teenagers, and that Kurt is being a good nurse, and then they'll be out of their hair.

Kurt leans down to grab the issue of Vogue out of his bag. He's already read it to Blaine, but his parents don't know that.

When a knock comes to the door five minutes later, Kurt is discussing a picture with Blaine. He looks up, and smiles. "Oh, hi. How are you both?"

Mr. Anderson narrows his eyes at him. His mother on the other hand doesn't seem phased by the situation. "Good. How's our Blaine doing?"

"I'm fine mom. Kurt's just showing me this article about Taylor Swift." His dad smiles. It's silly that he thinks there's still hope. Hope that his son may get married to someone in a white dress. Someone that can have kids.

Not a boy in a kilt that brings him home a poodle. Or worse, a chihuahua. No, he wants a strong able minded girl that is pretty and relies on Blaine to fix her car, just like he was taught to. Not some son of a mechanic who can show him up.

It's silly to think there is still hope when five minutes before wandering hands were holding his son tight.

"Do you need anything while we're out? Any medicine or food?" She walks over to the bed, nearly running into the table the orange juice is on. Kurt grabs the bottle and looks for the cap. He finds it and twists it on.

"We are running low on juice," he notes. She nods, making a mental note of it. She kisses his forehead. It doesn't have the same tingle as when Kurt does it. He smiles anyway.

They leave the door open when they leave. Kurt shuts the magazine and drops it to the floor. He turns on his side to face Blaine.

"Kurt, there's something we need to do."

"What?" His lips whisper against the tip of his nose.

Blaine almost forgets right then and there. "We need to dump out the six pack of orange juice in the fridge."

Kurt grins. He rolls off the bed and holds his hand out for him. Blaine accepts it. He guides him to the kitchen.

As they're draining the third bottle into the sink, Kurt turns to Blaine. He realizes that he doesn't see him watching, because he's on his right. He stares for a little while.

"You're staring." Blaine doesn't miss a beat, unscrewing the fifth bottle. He knows him too well.

"Did you send them on a hunt for orange juice to keep them out of the house?" He grabs the last bottle and struggles to get it open.

Blaine trades bottles with him. "It's possible. How else are we supposed to sing along to Mulan without disturbing the peace?"

"We have the house to ourselves, and you want to spend our time watching Disney movies with your one good eye." Kurt turns on the faucet to rinse out the sink. He can still smell the oranges.

"We can cuddle." He squeezes Kurt's side. Then he gathers up the bottles to take them to the recycling bin.

Kurt smiles. Cuddling is good.

Especially when Blaine is whispering in your ear how he's going to make a man out of you.

He is so holding him to that promise.

Blaine has no problem obliging.

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