Cat-alyst (fic)
Sep. 21st, 2012 01:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wowbrightTitle: Cat-alyst
Pairing/Fandom: Kurt/Blaine, Glee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,650
Spoilers: Vaguely for canon up through 3.03 "I Am Unicorn"; but no specific plot spoilers
Warnings: none (unless you count flirting and PG-13 raunchiness)
Summary: Written for this prompt from likeasouffle: Future!fic: Blaine wants a kitten! (Look at its little paws!) Kurt is skeptical. (They pee! They scratch things!) In the end, Blaine wins.
punkkitten2113 and judearaya for cheerleading. Enjoy!
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Cat-alyst
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Blaine slaps his laptop shut when Kurt walks into the apartment.
"Still working?" Kurt says, dropping his keys in the bowl on the entryway console. He pulls off his coat and hangs it in the closet, then steps over toward Blaine, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss the top of his head. The smell of Blaine's pomade is like home.
"Not exactly," Blaine says, leaning his head back to kiss Kurt's nose. Kurt leans forward so Blaine gets his lips, instead. It's a little awkward, but they manage to keep their chins out of each other's noses, and it quickly goes from being awkward to very, very good. Six years, and Blaine still takes Kurt's breath away.
"Have you been looking at internet porn again?" Kurt whispers, then swings around the side of the couch to sink down next to Blaine.
"No." Blaine smiles and blinks bashfully. Kurt loves that he can still make Blaine look like that, flustered and shy as the first time they kissed. He hopes he'll always be able to. "You know it's no fun to look at porn without you."
"I'm here now." Kurt runs his finger along the rim of Blaine's ear. "Open the computer."
"But then you'll see what I was looking at."
"That's kind of the idea."
"You'll make fun of me."
"Blaine, I might tease you, but I never mean to make fun of you. I love everything that turns you on."
"Fine," Blaine says, opening the computer and typing in his password. "But you'll see."
The screen brightens and the screen is full of –
Cats.
There's a fat, stripey cat that's sprawled flat on the floor like a roadkill toad. There's a small black cat perched on someone's head. There's a fluffy orange cat sleeping in a sink. There's a cat opening a cupboard with its front paw.
Kurt's eyes go wide. "Please tell me this isn't porn."
Blaine shakes his head. "It's not porn. It's really, really not porn. I just want a cat."
Kurt readjusts himself to face Blaine more directly. "Blaine, we've talked about this before. Cats shed on clothing."
"Kurt." Blaine swallows hard and looks into Kurt's eyes. "I visit ICanHasCheezburger like, 12 times a day."
Blaine's voice is so earnest, Kurt doesn't dare laugh.
"And look how cute this one's feet are." Blaine points to a picture of a long-haired brown cat with enormous, mitten-shaped front paws. "It's polydactyl."
"Many fingered?"
"Kind of. It means it has extra toes. Hemingway was a big fan of them."
"And you, too, I suppose?"
"I'm a fan of all cats."
"But honey, we've talked about this. If we're going to get a pet, maybe we could get something that doesn't poop in boxes and track litter all over the floors."
Blaine starts bouncing excitedly, and Kurt reflexively puts his hand behind the back of the laptop so it doesn't slide from his boyfriend's lap. "I just got a book from the library!" Blaine hands the laptop to Kurt and leans over to ruffle through his bookbag. "You can train them to poop in the toilet!"
Kurt stares at the cover. How to Toilet-Train Your Cat: 21 Days to a Litter-Free Home. Okay, the cat on the cover is pretty cute, he admits. "Fine, but they climb all over the furniture. I don't want to wake up every morning to a cat on my kitchen table."
"You like things that climb on furniture," says Blaine, and in one upward bound, Blaine is standing on the couch, then stepping on the coffee table toward the armchair on the other side. "You know, if we moved the TV just a little to the left and the dining table a little bit away from the bar, I could make it most of the way from the front door to the bathroom without touching the floor."
"You sound like you've been thinking about this a little too much."
"But a cat could do it without us moving any of the furniture. Isn't that cool?"
"What about scratching? I mean, I'd like to get furniture I actually care about one day."
"Jenkins never scratched." Jenkins, Blaine's childhood cat that Kurt never met. He'd died about a year before Pavarotti. "Well, he did, but only on his scratching post. Which – oh, I have to show you!" Blaine lowered himself to the floor and crossed back to the couch the normal way, took the laptop back from Kurt, and began clicking and typing. "Speaking of furniture you'd care for. … Check out this scratching post."
Kurt looks at the image that appears on the screen – a twisting, hexagonal sculpture, elegant and sensuous. "That's a scratching post?"
"Yup. And there's others." Blaine clicks through sculpture after sculpture – undulating waves and eternity symbols and something that looks like a – well, Kurt's not sure how to describe it, but it's beautiful. "And you can't tell me you wouldn't want to have this cat tower, even if we never got any cats."
Blaine's powers of persuasion are formidable. "What about the hair?" Kurt asks.
"That's why the celestial teapot invented lint rollers," Blaine said. "And gave you a boyfriend who will brush you down every time you leave the house."
"In the sexy way or the TSA way?"
"Well, I was thinking in the remove-cat-hair-from-your-clothing way, but if you want me to do it in the sexy way – "
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A few weeks later, Blaine is lying in bed, sneezing.
"It's albost sprig. It's too late to get the flu."
"This is probably a bad time to say I told you to get a flu shot," Kurt says, gauging the warmth of Blaine's forehead with the palm of his hand.
"Yes."
"At least you don't have any classes today."
"But I was goig to go to the library to work on by thesis."
"Sleep now and work later, Blaine. I'll make you a thermos of tea before I go to work. Are you hungry?"
Blaine shakes his head pathetically.
"Okay. Go back to sleep."
"I would sleep better if there was a cat lyig on by stobach."
"I know, Blaine." Kurt kisses Blaine's damp forehead. "I love you."
"I know," says Blaine. "I still want a cat."
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Three days after Blaine's graduation, Kurt walks into the living room and announces, "Put on your shoes. It's time for your next graduation present."
Blaine looks up from CuteCats.com. "I have to put on shoes for a blowjob?"
Kurt rolls his eyes. "Fuck you, Blaine."
"Yes, please."
Kurt tries to shoot Blaine a disapproving look, but cracks into a smile instead. "Maybe later, dear. First, we have to go out."
Soon they are on their bikes, with Kurt hauling the cargo trailer behind his. Blaine keeps asking what it's for, but Kurt just smiles enigmatically and tells Blaine to pay attention to the cars.
A few minutes later Kurt waves at Blaine to pull over. Blaine glances up and down the block as he locks up his bike. "Please tell me you're not taking me to the head shop," he says, nodding to the pipes in the store window a couple buildings down.
"I am not taking you to the head shop," Kurt says, taking Blaine's hand. "Now close your eyes and follow me. I want it to be a surprise."
Blaine obliges. He puts his left hand in Kurt's right hand, and wraps his own right hand around Kurt's elbow to steady himself against the darkness of his closed lids. His body relaxes as soon as he closes his eyes.
They walk for about a minute before Kurt steers them left across the sidewalk and opens the door to their destination.
"Oh my God, Kurt. Do I hear what I think I hear?"
"Open your eyes."
They are in the middle of what can only be described as hipster cat heaven. Danish-modern cat towers twice as tall as Blaine, bins of bright toys, and a whole shelf of catnip labeled by variety and potency.
Blaine hops on his toes and squeezes Kurt's hands so tight that Kurt wonders how long it will be before his circulation will be fully restored. "Meowing! I hear meowing!"
A young woman with pink and platinum blonde hair and two rings through her bottom lip steps up to Blaine. "The local cat rescue is here today doing adoptions if you're looking to bring someone special into your life." She points toward the back of the store.
Blaine is still holding on to Kurt with both hands.
"Kurt. You're the best. boyfriend. ever."
There's another woman in the back. She's from the rescue society and she tells them they can look, but they should also tell her about what they're looking for and what their lifestyles are like so she can steer them toward the right one. Blaine does most of the talking and Kurt lets his eyes wander across the cages. There's this one black cat who blinks at him with big amber eyes, and then he realizes there's another one in the cage with it, with white mittens and nose, and it starts to lick the black one behind the ears and – oh, they really are adorable.
"Blaine," Kurt says, not looking away from the cats.
In his peripheral vision, Kurt can see Blaine turn toward him. "Yeah?"
“I’m thinking –” he starts, then clears his throat. He can feel the edges of his ears burning. He will never hear the end of this.
He reminds himself that he’s Kurt Hummel. He says what he wants, without fear. “I’m thinking,” he says, facing Blaine, "that we should probably get two.”
---End---
no subject
Date: 2012-09-23 05:17 am (UTC)