We Crave a Different Kind of Buzz

The heat cuts out at Dalton right before Blaine’s math class. It’s been known to happen before. Even with how rich the school is, the building and heating system is old, and many of the other Warblers claim that the flakiness can and should be upheld as Dalton tradition. Blaine suspects that they just have a mild case of Stockholm Syndrome.

He weighs the pros and cons of running out to his car for a heavier jacket. It is the beginning of spring, but the temperature is stubbornly lingering near freezing.

On the other hand, the heat won’t be out for long, no more than an hour at most. Apparently, it’s more cost-effective to keep a decent plumber on call than it is to redo the entire heating system. The one advantage of having an old building is that it does hold its heat pretty well.

The blazer isn’t that much in the way of insulation, but it should be fine.

---

It’s not fine.

By the end of math, Blaine is cranky and shivering, and he’s not the only one. Half the school is in their winter coats in flagrant disregard of the dress code. Some of them are also wearing hats. The really cold ones are wearing scarves.

“This is unacceptable,” Wes says when Blaine runs into him after class. “I’m going to have a word with the principal immediately.”

Blaine’s supposed to meet with Kurt for their shared free period to do some studying in the sophomore common room, and as new boyfriends (boyfriends) he’s reluctant to give up any second that they could be spending together. He will soldier through another forty-five minutes without a coat.

When he gets into the common room, he’s pretty sure he can’t feel his fingers anymore. That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s true enough. Kurt’s already there waiting for him. Well, a lump on the couch hiding under a thick wool blanket that’s making vaguely Kurt-like humming noises is waiting for him.

“Hey,” Blaine says.

Kurt peeks his head out of his blanket. His hair is a little ruffled, and his eyes are a little sleepy. “Is the heat back on yet?” He looks so warm underneath it, and even with the new-boyfriend giddiness, Blaine is jealous. It’s possible that he would murder someone for a blanket right now. Maybe not Kurt, but if he saw Karofsky walking by with one, he would definitely think about it.

“No,” Blaine says.

“Ick,” Kurt says. “This is not good.” He blinks a few times like he’s adjusting to the light levels. “Are your lips turning blue?”

Blaine can’t see himself, but he’s pretty sure that’s an exaggeration. “No, I don’t think so.”

Kurt hmpfs the way he does when he thinks Blaine’s being an idiot. “Come on,” he says. He lifts up the edge of the blanket, leaving a space just large enough for Blaine.

Blaine tucks himself into Kurt’s side, and the first thing he registers is that it’s warm underneath the blanket. Wonderfully, blissfully warm. Warm like the first day of spring. Warm like a perfectly calibrated space heater. Warm like campfire in the middle of the summer. The second thing he registers is that it’s dark, with only tiny, stray bits of light that leak through.

He breathes Kurt in, the slightly acrid scent of his hairspray, the muted minty aloe of his skin cream, the floral laundry detergent he uses to clean his clothes, and underneath it, something undeniably boy.

Blaine’s nose bumps into the exposed skin of Kurt’s neck, and Kurt shivers. “You’re like an ice cube, Blaine,” he says.

“Mmm, and you’re warm,” Blaine mumbles. He could nap here, where Kurt is solid against him, comfortable, where the heat from their bodies lingers. Kurt’s shoulder is nice, the perfect height for leaning against. Blaine can feel himself drifting off into that hazy middle place between sleeping and waking.

He doesn’t know how long that lasts, but he’s startled back into wakefulness when Kurt’s elbow nudges him in the side. “We’re supposed to be studying,” Kurt says.

“Right,” Blaine says. “Studying.” There’s something very inviting about how soft Kurt’s skin is, and so he presses a kiss against it, somewhere on Kurt’s neck. Kurt shivers again.

“Yes, studying,” Kurt says, though his voice has gone a little bit breathy.

“It’s too cold to study.” Blaine lets his arm drift around Kurt’s waist, pulling him closer. Kurt doesn’t resist.

“Blaine,” he says.

“Kurt,” Blaine says.

And then Kurt hand on is on his cheek, tilting his face up so that they can kiss properly. It takes a few fumbling moments to line their mouths up correctly, but once they do, it’s perfect. Kurt’s lips are dry and warm and familiar. They’d made out a few times already, but that tended to be a meeting of tentative lips and careful hands, afternoons in Kurt’s bedroom before Burt gets home or early in the morning before classes in the backseat of Kurt’s Navigator. This intimacy, as strange as it is with their whole bodies pressed together in the darkness underneath the blanket, is new and thrilling.

Blaine shifts so that he doesn’t have to twist his neck as much, and then that’s Kurt’s hip pressed against Blaine’s crotch, their chests are flush against one another. Kurt makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. The sound of it hooks into something in Blaine, and he feels overheated all of a sudden, overwhelmed.

He presses in closer, hungry, and he doesn’t even know what for (well, he’s seen porn, so he kind of does know, but this feels messier than that, more than straightforward lust). He slides his fingers into Kurt’s hair, and Kurt’s hands are on Blaine’s thighs, and--

“Heat’s back on!” someone yells from the nearby hallway, startling the two of them out of their makeout session.

Blaine yanks away from Kurt and gets tangled up in the blanket, his knee crashing painfully into Kurt’s shin.

“Ow, Blaine!” Kurt says, letting out a hiss of annoyance. It’s really amazing how he’s managed to perfect a ‘disapproving dad’ voice at the age of sixteen even if Blaine will never ever say that Kurt’s face.

Blaine manages to extract himself without doing any further harm to either of them. The light coming in through the window is bright, almost blinding, and Blaine blinks against it.

Kurt peeks back out of the blanket again. His hair is messy and rumpled, and his lips are red and swollen, and his cheeks have turned a bright pink. Blaine wants to kiss him again, but he’s pretty sure that’s how they ended up in this situation in the first place. He stays where he is, a good foot away from Kurt. His breathing is heavier than normal. His knee throbs.

The heat isn’t back on all the way, but it’s warmer, warm enough that they don’t have to share the blanket anymore.

“So,” Blaine says. “Studying.”

Kurt clears his throat. “Yes,” he says, “that thing we were doing.”

Blaine says, “Right. That.”

“Like responsible, hardworking students,” Kurt continues.

They stare at each other for a few long moments.

Blaine inches closer. “Well, we could--”

The bell rings, signalling the end of the period. Kurt sighs. He leans over and gives Blaine a chaste peck on the lips. “I’ll see you after English,” he says, as the hallways start to flood with chattering students.

“After English,” Blaine echoes. He gathers his stuff and hurries off, because his next class is on the other side of the school.

---

David catches up to him as they pass by the main staircase. “Nice hair,” David says. “I’m sure Kurt liked it, too.”

Blaine reaches up to check, and he can feel that a few curls must have broken free. If he’s going to be making out with Kurt this much, he’s going to have to invest in heavier duty hair gel. “Shut up,” he hisses. They aren’t going to the same class, so David is sticking around just to mess with him.

“I’m sure you guys did a great job of staying warm while the heat was out,” David yells after him.

Blaine doesn’t dignify that with a response. He just hurries off in the other direction, ignoring how red his face must be getting.

FIN.