I feel bad that this is so short, but I hope it's still enjoyable!

"Ow ow ow ow," Kurt says under his breath as he walks as quietly as possible into his and Blaine's bedroom. "Note to self: wear your frickin' gloves when it's ten degrees out, Hummel."

Blaine rolls over at this, and Kurt immediately shuts up so he doesn't wake him. It's almost one in the morning, after all, and Blaine's got to work the breakfast shift tomorrow at the Spotlight.

Never again am I going to one of Isabelle's friends' performance art exhibitions, Kurt thinks as he changes into his warm flannel pajama pants and loose tank top. He'd spent the last three hours freezing to death in a large, drafty converted warehouse watching a man chew bubble gum and paint himself purple, and to top it all off, he'd had to wait twenty minutes for a bus back to Bushwick.

Kurt wiggles his toes briefly before hustling over to his nice, warm bed and nicer, warmer fiance, eager to steal all of Blaine's body heat. He slides under the blankets quickly and rolls into Blaine's side, pressing his nose into Blaine's neck, his arms against Blaine's chest, and his feet against Blaine's shins.

His warmth lasts for all of two seconds before suddenly he feels Blaine's knee heading for his groin. Kurt squawks and pushes himself away, flailing slightly on the edge of the bed before he feels a strong hand pulling him forward again.

"Blaine, what the hell?" Kurt asks, glaring at his blushing boyfriend.

"Kurt, you're so cold, oh my God," Blaine says. "Do we need to take you to the hospital or something? This can't be healthy." Blaine drags Kurt forward a little more and starts rubbing his hands along Kurt's arms, which is more soothing than Kurt would ever care to admit.

"No, I just need my boyfriend to maybe not try to knee me in the balls when I come looking for a snuggle," Kurt says pointedly, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, baby," Blaine says sheepishly, ceasing his arm rubs. "I was dreaming about a zombie apocalypse and felt cold all over me and kind of panicked."

Kurt stops for a moment to process this revelation, pinching the bridge of his nose in his hand. "Okay, no more late-night video games with Sam and Artie," he says. "Not if this is what comes of it."

"Yeah, that might be a good idea," Blaine concedes with a yawn. "God, what time is it?"

"Late," Kurt says. He scoots in to press a kiss to Blaine's forehead. "Go back to sleep, B."

"Want snuggles," Blaine mumbles, already half asleep. Kurt smiles as he curls up against Blaine's chest, his heartbeat pounding steadily under Kurt's ear.

The last thing Kurt remembers before drifting off is the press of lips into his hair.