Spoilers (if any): None
Warnings (if any): boykisses, so much fluff I'm rolling in it
Word Count: 967
Summary: Blaine tries to teach Kurt Geography.
A/N: This isn't part of 'Survival', just a fluffy peice I wrote a while back and found floating around on my laptop. I had to Google a lot of the stuff, so excuse me if I've made any mistakes *runs off* Also, I can't write kissing scenes.
Kurt’s fingers danced across the globe Blaine had gotten down for him (he’d ignored Kurt’s “Why on earth do you have a globe on top of your wardrobe?”) and Kurt sighed.
“Blaine,” he whined, pushing the globe aside. He reached for Blaine. “I really, really hate Geography. Can't we do something else?”
Blaine smirked and extracted himself from Kurt who was slowly winding his arms around him. Blaine stood up. “Kurt, if you don’t pass this subject your father will kill me.”
Kurt pouted and stared imploringly up at Blaine (and Blaine really, really had to find some better self control because right now his was failing him) and Kurt pulled him down to the bed again. “My Dad loves you, so don’t use that excuse.”
Blaine laughed when Kurt poked him in the ribs. He leaned over (and he didn’t miss Kurt’s intake of breath as his warm weight pressed down on the taller boy) and grabbed the globe again.
It had been dusty when he’d pulled it down and he’d blown at it delicately. Kurt’s eyes had widened at the sight of the largish globe and then narrowed in mock disgust when Blaine had plugged it in and flicked the little switch that turned the globe on and made it light up.
“It’s not that hard, Kurt.” he murmured, resting the globe on their laps so it balanced between them both. “Look.”
He pointed at the large picture of brownish land that was Africa. “There’s Africa--”
“I can see that Blaine, thanks.” Kurt said sardonically, crossing his arms.
Blaine ignored him and carried on, “So here is . . .?” He pointed to the little splodge next to it and covered the name with his finger.
Kurt pursed his lips (and Blaine really wanted to reach out and trace those lips and the little dimple that popped in Kurt’s chin when Kurt pulled his thinking face and how had Blaine got such a breathtaking boyfriend, anyway--?) and Kurt asked tentatively, “Tanzania?”
“Best known for?” Blaine inquired and Kurt frowned a little bit.
“Um . . .Gold? Diamond? AIDS. Wildlife.”
Blaine leaned forward and smiled, completely forgetting what he’d asked anyway and kissed Kurt softly.
Kurt made a small “oof” sound and then kissed him back but Blaine drew back before they could carry on. His eyes danced across Kurt’s face, who's eyes were half closed and he had a look of blissful unawareness on his face. Kurt looked soft and open and beautiful, just the way Blaine loved him most.
“Was that my well done kiss?” Kurt breathed, smiling slightly, “For getting the answer right?”
Blaine smirked. “Maybe.”
He pointed to another random spot on the globe and covered the name again. Kurt peered at it before saying, “Yemen?”
“Coffee.” Kurt grinned and the two smiled again, sharing the moment and the significance.
Blaine popped a kiss to Kurt’s mouth and then drew back. “Two for you.”
Kurt plastered on Blaine’s most favourite smile and said, “I like this game.”
They carried on, the kisses slowly getting longer and sweeter until Blaine was staring hungrily at Kurt and didn’t even wait until Kurt had answered his last question before he kissed him.
“Mal—mmmmhh.” Kurt hummed and went to place his hand at the base of Blaine’s neck.
Blaine pulled back once more with a rebellious smirk and Kurt frowned.
“Malta fever. Twistees. Absolutely despicable boys.” Kurt glared.
Blaine laughed anyway. “Kurt, I’m not from Malta--”
Kurt grabbed the globe from off of their laps and declared, “My turn.”
Kurt’s fingers danced across the globe once more and he quickly pointed to a place toward the West. Blaine looked at it and then rolled his eyes.
“Well, what is it?” Blaine asked, playing along.
“France!” Kurt answered.
“Delicious food. Gorgeous clothes. Wonderful coffee.” Kurt leaned forward until their faces were a breadth apart. “French kissing.”
Their lips met halfway; Kurt pulled his hand round to the back of Blaine’s neck and held him in place as he softly kissed him. Blaine pushed the globe aside and moved forward until he was almost in Kurt’s lap. He wound his arms around his boyfriend quickly, one hand gripping Kurt’s hair, the other clutching Kurt’s sweater with desperate urgency.
Kurt’s mouth parted against his, granting him access. Blaine let his tongue dance across Kurt’s lips before sliding it into Kurt’s mouth. He’d never get tired of the taste of Kurt—mint, coffee and Kurt. Kurt breath quickened and the other hand rested on top of Blaine’s thigh spazmed.
Their tongues danced around one another and Blaine pushed Kurt back onto Blaine’s bed, their mouths still not breaking contact. He supported Kurt’s head and then Kurt did this awesome thing with his tongue which Blaine swore was illegal and Blaine groaned helplessly into Kurt’s mouth.
Kurt thrilled from underneath him and pulled away to pepper Blaine’s jaw and neck with hot kisses. Blaine sank next to Kurt on the bed as the other boy slowly sat up and leaned over Blaine to capture his mouth again.
They kissed, long and tantalising and Blaine really needed better uniform pants—Kurt pulled away from sucking at Blaine’s earlobe (Blaine whined in protest because that was fantastic) to trace his lips across Blaine’s cheek, jaw and then stopped a millimetre from Blaine’s lips.
They stayed like that for a few moments, both of them catching their breath. The air was charged with a static electricity that buzzed through them both, and the space around them seemed hot and suffocating and comfortable all at once.
Blaine touched his nose to Kurt’s and rubbed it softly. “Eskimo kisses, made known by the Eskimo’s in the arctic.”
Kurt smirked and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Blaine’s lips before pulling away. “You really have to stop trying to teach me Geography.”