Work Text:
The coffee pot in the loft burbled loudly and hissed as it worked, so Blaine wasn’t all that surprised to see Santana come out from behind her curtained partition before the pot was finished brewing.
“Well, well, well.” He could feel her eyes on him, studying the too-long sweatpants, the skull T-shirt he’d found on Kurt’s floor, and the serious bedhead he knew he was sporting. His hair defied physics in the mornings. “I was hoping when Kurt asked us to stay out last night that something interesting was going on, but I thought it might just be one of his redecorating jags.”
“Good morning, Santana,” he said as politely as he could. “Coffee?”
“Making yourself at home, I see.” She shouldn’t have been able to be so slinky in a bathrobe and PJs, but the way she slid over to the counter and pulled a mug out of the cabinets was hypnotic, even for him. “So is this a thing, now? Am I going to have to watch out for hair gel backups in the shower drain?”
“First of all, it’s water soluble, so that wouldn’t even be a consideration. And you should be cleaning all your drains monthly anyhow.” Blaine poured coffee into her mug, and then into his. “And I don’t know. Maybe? It’s… new.”
“Well, good for you,” she said, leaning into the fridge for the milk carton. “Even short hairy people deserve sexy fun times. And although this says as much about him as it does about you, you’re the most acceptable guy Kurt’s dragged back here.”
“Thanks?” Blaine looked down at his coffee and tried not to feel nauseated.
“I mean, have you met Adam? No? Well, believe me, Cousin Matthew was charming enough but oh my God, the accent just got so annoying. Speak English, is what I say. And I won’t even talk about Bruce.”
“Santana, it’s not really your place to go dishing about Kurt’s personal life to me behind his back.”
“Suit yourself. I’m just trying to be the benevolent earth-mother the ladyblogs tell me I am,” Santana said, and flounced back to her room.
Blaine stared at the coffee pot for a while, trying to figure out what to do next.
- - - - -
Kurt was lying in bed, enjoying the lazy exhilaration of the morning after, when Blaine came back with a tray. And if Blaine wasn’t beautiful enough wearing Kurt’s clothes and Kurt’s hickey, then the tray he was carrying, with coffee, toast, and two of the little applesauce containers Rachel always bought, made him the most perfect boyfriend in the world. Boyfriend. Kurt’s day was starting really, really well.
“Good morning,” he said, using his best sexy voice.
Blaine carefully put the tray on Kurt’s bedside table before he leaned down for a kiss.
“You’re so thoughtful,” Kurt said, tangling his fingers in the wonderful mess of Blaine’s morning hair. “I guess I’ll have to keep you.”
The coffee was cold by the time Kurt got to drink it, but he didn’t mind in the least.
“Kurt?” Blaine said, running his spoon around the edge of the applesauce container to get the last drops. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course you can.”
“Was Adam the only guy you went out with this year?”
That was not a question Kurt was expecting, not yet. “Well,” he said, carefully licking toast-dust off his fingers. “There were a couple of really terrible first dates I let Rachel and her man-whore set me up on. But other than that, yes.”
Blaine’s frown got deeper. “OK. So then… who’s Bruce?”
Kurt sat straight up. The tray rattled on the bedside table. “Who told you about Bruce?”
“There’s something to tell? You just said —”
“Was it Santana? That shifty-eyed harlot. I’m going to turn her diary into a Tumblr.”
“Were you serious? With him?”
We’re exclusive, he could hear himself telling Rachel. He should have known then that his thing with Adam was over. He sighed. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“OK. Then…?”
“You’re going to laugh at me.”
“Is this a Batman thing?” Blaine sounded almost hopeful. “Bruce Wayne?”
Kurt rolled his eyes. This was only going to get worse if he let it drag out, clearly. “You have a Batman problem. Don’t make me stage an intervention.” He pulled back the comforter and got out of bed. The floor was cold as he knelt to reach under the bedframe for the familiar battered suitcase.
“I’m down to just three series. Maybe I should get Santana a Batwoman collection for her next birthday? The visual style isn’t for everyone, but it is a lesbian superhero comic. I think she’d appreciate — what is that?” Blaine’s eyes went wide as Kurt pulled the pillow out from its case and threw it onto the mattress beside him.
“That,” Kurt said, “is Bruce.” He got back into bed and tried not to feel embarrassed. “He helps me fall asleep sometimes.”
“Oh,” Blaine said. He looked at it appraisingly. “Can I try?”
“What?”
“Can I try… Bruce? He looks comfortable.”
Kurt’s eyebrows felt like they were going to meld into his hairline at that. “OK,” he said. “If you want.”
Blaine took the pillow and very seriously placed it down next to him on the bed. He placed the pillow-hand over his shoulder, turning away from Kurt, and snuggled into it easily. “This is nice,” he said, a little muffled by Bruce’s stuffing.
“It is, right?” Kurt wouldn’t exactly call it relief, but he was glad Blaine could appreciate a good pillow for what it was. “I got one for both of the girls too. I even added a boob to Santana’s.”
Blaine turned back to Kurt and smiled. “That was sweet of you.”
“Well, I’m an excellent roommate.”
“I use a regular pillow sometimes. One of the king-sized ones. I told my mom I was holding it so I wouldn’t fall asleep on my stomach and strain my back. I’m not sure she believed me, but she didn’t say anything.” Blaine turned around completely in Bruce’s inanimate grip, leaning his head against Bruce’s pajama-clad half-torso. “This is much better, though.”
Kurt felt a new rush of tenderness towards them both: the boy who still held his heart, and the ridiculous pillow who’d gotten him through the rough winter. “You know what would be even better?”
Blaine raised an eyebrow at him, waiting. “What?”
“A threesome.”
Blaine’s face lit up with happiness, and he threw open his and Bruce’s arms to let Kurt in.