Work Text:
Kurt is good at a whole lot of things and he would never admit it out loud to anybody but his partner, but the truth is? Kurt is such a crap flier.
His theory is that it's related to the psychological trauma of his first time on a plane. He'd never flown until their trip to Nationals his sophomore year, and there were already so many reasons to be nervous and highstrung that when the plane blew a tire on the way down the shitty, shitty runway in Dayton and the flight had been delayed and they'd missed their connection in Chicago and been bumped back down to coach and then there'd been weather and turbulence all the way to JFK... when all that happened, he finally just lost it and, yes, he'd hurled all the way there. The disappointment of losing followed them all the way home, too, and at least on the flight home there'd been no puking, just a knot in his belly and a general fear of dying without ever winning anything.
You'd think that an entire undergraduate career in NYC and the insane amount of travel he'd had to do back and forth to Blaine in Chicago would have improved the situation. It didn't, not really - he got better at it, learned how to manage it, but he still hated flying. The few times that he had really on-the-ball stewards and couldn't slip in his headphones just before takeoff so he could distract himself with endless repeats of 'Defying Gravity' had been miserable, miserable experiences, both for himself and for whatever poor bastard was stuck sitting beside him.
And now he and Blaine have moved to Palo Alto, and that roadtrip was wonderful and romantic and something he never ever wants to do again. As far as he's concerned, Nebraska, Wyoming and Utah are once-in-a-lifetime kind of states - as in he only needs to visit them once in this lifetime, and that's if he's being very generous and is sort of disgustingly in love with this travel partner.
And so, when it's time to go back to Ohio, they fly. The only real saving grace is that they've found this incredible flight between SFO and DAY, and Kurt has no idea how it hasn't been cut from their airline's budget, because it's always at least half-empty. Maybe it's because it's so late, but for whatever reason, they're both determined to never fly any other carrier home.
It's their third time back to Ohio since they moved out to Palo Alto, and this time it's for Christmas, so Kurt expects the flight to be busier. It's really not, though - there's only a handful of people on the flight and most of them have upgraded to first class. Back in coach whole rows are empty, and Kurt knows that as soon as the seat belt sign goes off most people will be stretching out to try to nap for a few hours. He and Blaine have settled into their seats just in front of the wing, just the two of them in a three-person row of seats and not a soul in front of them or for two rows behind them. Blaine dropped his paperback in the block of seats just across the aisle from them, and he's sure that Blaine's considering moving over once there's time for sleep. 2L exams are hitting Blaine hard, and he's been tired for what seems like weeks now.
First they just have to get through take-off.
The flight attendants run their usual checks and then settle down just as they're pulling back from the gate. This is their fifth flight together, and each time Blaine has tried something different to help. The first time it was just hand-holding and talking quietly right in Kurt's ear, which had helped but mostly had just cut off circulation in some of Blaine's fingers. On his way back he tried the same thing, only this time with singing. Again, it had been lovely - Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and in the dark and with Blaine's voice right there they could have been anywhere. Only they weren't, they were trapped in a metal coffin and Kurt was hurtling toward certain death, and that's a tough bar for even Blaine's attempts at cheesy romance to clear.
When they'd done this flight again at the summertime Blaine had read to him, trying to distract him with a snippet from Armistead Maupin's latest, and then on their way back home Blaine had actually started an argument, on the theory that Kurt just needed something that would really get his attention, and clearly he wasn't really that into Blaine and his ramblings anymore. (And yes, okay, there was subtext there. Blaine was tired of waiting for Kurt to marry him, and Kurt was tired of explaining why he wasn't in a huge hurry, and it had been the end of a long two weeks staying with their parents and they were both horny and cranky.) That last one had kind of worked, but that didn't mean he wanted to argue with Blaine every single time he got on a plane; it wasn't a great way to better his mental associations with flying, for one thing.
So when they were walking down the gangway and Blaine said, "Want my help with takeoff again?" and Kurt had said, "Absolutely. You have any grand plans on how you're going to do that?" and Blaine had just smiled, Kurt had wondered.
The plane swings around, beginning its taxi toward the runway. Kurt breathes in and out and closes his eyes, and Blaine picks up his hand. He smiles and takes another deep breath, wondering what Blaine's going to tell him this time, and then he feels Blaine's breath on the back of his hand and the sweetest, gentlest kiss pressed there, and his smile deepens.
Blaine kisses his hand all the way through the taxi, sucking gently at each of his knuckles in turn, and when the plane turns into position and pauses Kurt hums low and opens his eyes, staring straight ahead. From the corner of his eye he can see Blaine turned away from the aisle, angling his body toward him.
"This is your plan?" he asks.
"It's the first part of it. Is it working?"
He rolls his head against the back of the seat, turning to face him so he can smirk and say, "Not bad," but just then the engines growl beneath them and the plane eases forward and Blaine's hand is on his face, cupping his jaw, and Blaine is kissing him.
The kiss is slow, thorough, and Blaine's tongue immediately slides into his mouth. He tastes like the peppermints he was popping in the airport, and he smiles to think about Blaine planning this kiss, preparing for it. His tongue is soft, gentle, gliding against his own, and his left hand is cradling Kurt's jaw, his thumb gently stroking Kurt's cheek. The plane picks up speed, and Kurt leans into this kiss, opening his mouth wider, slipping his tongue back against Blaine's to glide over the roof of his mouth. Blaine hums into it, just the tiniest hint of a moan catching at the back of his throat, and he knows how Kurt loves that, loves hearing how their bodies together make him feel.
The drag on the wings pulls the plane up in the smallest of lurches and Kurt tries to stiffen up, to prepare his body for it, but just at that moment Blaine sucks on his tongue and his hand glides down his cheek and drags slowly down his neck, the calluses on his fingers pulling against the soft skin there, and his hand skims all the way down Kurt's chest to land high on his thigh. He's trying to focus on the plane, trying to keep his wits about him, but his body responds and he sags back into his seat, dragging up one hand to tighten in Blaine's hair and pull him closer. Blaine's mouth goes fierce against him, letting the kiss turn dirty, his tongue a little more firm against his own and when Kurt's legs fall open it's not about distraction anymore. Blaine is pushing him into his seat with his mouth and with the hand he's sliding up to press over Kurt's crotch, and each time the plane jerks a little the heel of Blaine's palm presses a bit more firmly against Kurt's hard dick and, yeah, this is a public seduction at 300 feet, 400, 5.
But fuck it. Their seatbelts are still on, the armrest has to be digging into Blaine's side, and if he's going to die, he's going to die happy.
He drops his hand from Blaine's hair and Blaine pulls back to look at him, his eyes wide and his mouth red and wet. Kurt looks down to his lap, where his hands are carefully loosening the seatbelt so he can shove it up over his shirt and then opening his pants, folding the fabric to the side, and Blaine's gaze follows his and then darts back up, his eyes wide.
"Yeah?" Blaine breathes at him, nuzzling against his ear.
"Yeah," Kurt says, and Blaine just groans quietly and then his mouth is back. The kiss has shifted again - distraction, seduction, all the way to desperation. Blaine is reaching, straining to turn around all the way to face him while he's still buckled up, and the plane is shaking underneath them while it completes its climb. Blaine reaches over with his right hand, the angle awkward but workable, and squeezes him once through his underwear and then slips his hand under, using his wrist to shove at the waistband so he can get a good grip.
His grasp is firm, dry, and even though Kurt would prefer something a little more slick there is nothing hotter than this, nothing better than knowing that all that power in the engines is nothing compared to what Blaine's forearm is putting him through, and that anybody could hear, anybody could see. Blaine's back is blocking them from view, and they really are something like alone, but Kurt wants to shout with it, cry out at the drag of each callus over the head of his dick. He doesn't, though, he just kisses Blaine harder, sucks at his bottom lip and scrapes at it with his teeth, and huffs out tiny breaths through his nose.
They're still climbing but the ascent is leveling out, and they hit the first real bump of turbulence. Kurt draws in a sharp breath, and Blaine's other hand comes up to tangle in his hair, tilting his head a little and holding him there. He's trapped, warm and soft and firm in his seat and Blaine's hands, and Blaine's tongue is fucking into his mouth with the same rhythm of his hand wrapped around his cock and there, there, between the adrenaline and the anxiety and the overwhelming want Kurt comes into Blaine's hand, both of them swallowing down his cries.
Blaine holds him through it, milking the head for the last few drops, and when he pulls away just a few inches his eyes are dark. He holds Kurt's eyes as he brings his hand to his mouth and carefully licks it clean, sucking each finger into his mouth and pulling it free with a quiet pop, and Kurt kisses at the back of his hand while Blaine licks the palm.
He thinks about it then, thinks about folding down into that space on the floor. He thinks about opening Blaine's pants and pulling his dick out, holding his erection away from his body so that it's visible, so that everybody can see how much Kurt loves licking up the side of it, so they can see how fucking pornographic the head looks when it's full and red and shiny with his spit.
And then there's a ding, loud in the hush of the main cabin, and the main flight attendant comes on, telling them they're free to move about the cabin.
Blaine pulls back, away, too far away, and then he quickly stands and tosses a blanket over Kurt before he gives him a lewd smirk.
Kurt rolls his eyes and sags into his seat and tucks himself away. He tosses the blanket back at Blaine who's still standing there in the aisle with a satisfied smirk on his face, but then he unbuckles his seat belt and leans up to kiss him on the cheek and whisper into his ear. "Do you want me to... meet you in the lavatory?"
Blaine just smiles back. "No. I want you to switch seats with me. We still have to get you through the landing."