I got tagged in this piece of art: post/73910932779/i-cant-wait-for-blaine-to-move-to-nyc-so-that-he by trufflemores and just had to write it. Also, it distracted me from how damn cold it is here.

"Oh my God, kill me," Blaine says, sprawled out on his belly like a starfish on the couch. "It's so hot."

"I'm not doing that for two reasons," Kurt answers him from his spot face-up on the somewhat-cooler wood floor. "I don't want you dead, for one, and also that would require far too much moving."

"But Kuuuurt," Blaine whines. He turns his head to stare at Kurt pleadingly.

"No," Kurt says, limply lifting an arm and pointing at Blaine reprovingly.

"No one would even see the bloodstains against your outfit!" Blaine argues, and Kurt lets out a snort of laughter. He's in his red and white workout outfit because it's the closest he can get to being naked without hearing infinite naughty comments from Santana. As it stands, he already heard a joke about candy-cane shorts and how Blaine should celebrate Christmas in July before she left for work earlier.

"It's official, the heat's actually melted your brain," Kurt responds. "I always thought it would be the hair gel, though."

"Hey!" Blaine says petulantly. He flops an arm down and smacks vaguely at Kurt's bent knees. "No knocking the gel, baby. Imagine what my hair would look like in this humidity without it."

"You look cute gel-less, B," Kurt says, reaching for Blaine's hand and holding it for a moment. "Plus I'm sure the combination of sweat and glue you've got going right now might only come out fully if we shave your head."

Blaine gasps in horror. "You take that back!"

"Blaine, your head literally looks like melted tar right now," Kurt tells him. "I'm kind of afraid you're going to end up stuck to the couch."

"Why am I marrying someone so mean?" Blaine whines jokingly. "I might have to ask for that ring back."

"Fat chance, Anderson," Kurt says, laughing. "The only reason you'd get this ring back is because you'd be putting my wedding ring on later. But I tell you what," he rolls onto his side to properly face Blaine, "if you go shower out that pile of goop on your head, I'll go make us some lemonade and find a Project Runway marathon to watch."

"Make it strawberry lemonade and you've got yourself a deal," Blaine says.

"Done," Kurt replies, and Blaine pushes himself off the couch and onto his knees, kissing Kurt quickly before standing up and ambling to the shower.

"Wow, that shower cooled me down for a solid four seconds," Blaine says as he walks back out to the living room. Kurt's seated on the couch, two glasses of bright pink lemonade on the coffee table in front of him.

"But your hair looks much better," Kurt says, turning slightly to look at Blaine, who's now appareled in a tight black tank top and tiny green shorts. "Now c'mere, your lemonade's melting."

"I love you," Blaine says, settling down near Kurt on the couch and reaching for his glass. He slugs half of it back in one sitting before letting out a refreshed "Aaah."

"I never thought I'd see the day where your table manners would fail you," Kurt teases before taking a sip of his own drink. "What would your mother say if she could see you now?"

"She'd probably be amazed that I held out so long, seeing as Cooper gave up on his prep school manners years ago," Blaine says. "You should see him eat spaghetti, it looks like a crime scene afterwards."

"I'll pass," Kurt says with a shudder. They watch in amiable silence for a few minutes before Blaine cracks.

"Nope, I can't do it," he says, scooting closer to Kurt and throwing his legs over Kurt's lap. "I can't watch TV with you and not cuddle, even if it's a billion degrees in here."

"You're so needy, B," Kurt says, but he still wraps his arm around Blaine's shoulders. "You're going to give me heatstroke."

"I can also give you mouth-to-mouth," Blaine says, winking. Kurt giggles momentarily before he feels Blaine's lips against his. They make out lazily until Kurt's interest is recaptured by what's onscreen.

"It's like that kind of blood orange," a blonde designer is telling Tim Gunn, and Kurt lets out an exasperated huff.

"Blood orange? How pretentious," he says disparagingly. Seconds later, a male designer echoes his thoughts, causing Blaine to let out an amused laugh.

"You really stopped making out with me to judge someone's wording?" he asks. "I mean, while I agree with you, I can't say it was worth interrupting that."

"Oh, shut up, Blaine," Kurt says, smacking Blaine's legs softly.

"Make me," Blaine challenges, eyes sparkling with mirth.

The moan Blaine lets out when Kurt does that thing with his tongue he knows drives Blaine wild is all the victory he needs.