quick, easy, and covered in fun facts about dinos

early klaine: Kurt’s travels north of the equator are interrupted by an unexpected Burt. Blaine contemplates Australia. pg, 599 words

"Oh my God, did you see how he looked at me? That’s how a bear stares at a hiker before it mauls him to death." Blaine drops his head into his hands and considers the pros and cons of moving somewhere Burt Hummel will never lay eyes on him again.


Maybe Australia.


Koalas are nice. Wallabies are cute.


But then again, dingos

Kurt makes a sympathetic noise and dares to bridge the distance between them on the couch to rub Blaine’s shoulder. The touch is enough to remind Blaine of why he wasn’t half way back home—or to Australia—the minute Mr. Hummel left the room. Proximity to Kurt is clearly damaging Blaine’s sense of self preservation.


"He wasn’t supposed to be home for another hour." Kurt says again, like he’s been saying since the unfortunate sound of Mr. Hummel clearing his throat over the forgotten soundtrack of the movie they’d stopped watching about a half hour before that. “It wasn’t—” Kurt clears his throat, “it wasn’t like he saw anything that bad.”


Burt Hummel has seen Blaine’s nipples.


Blaine would beg to differ.

Blaine rubs his palms across his eyes like it might scrub the sight of Mr. Hummel’s face when he walked in on them on the couch out of his eyes. It’s not that they make a habit of making out everywhere, but the promise of an empty house and a solid block of time had proved too tempting. Whether that temptation can ever escape without bearing the permanent scars of mortification that come from knowing that Mr. Hummel knows what Blaine looks like (mostly) shirtless is question only time can answer.


Kurt squeezes his shoulder and Blaine’s pretty sure the answer is a resounding yes.


"It’s just, the way he looked Kurt." He shakes his head and his voice rises a bit, a little hysterical, "It was—he probably thinks I have untoward intentions for you.”

Kurt’s hand stops rubbing. “Blaine?” There’s a long second’s pause and then, “You do, right? Have intentions? For me?” Kurt’s voice dips a little at the end, twists something prickly in the pit of Blaine’s stomach. He can’t tell if he likes it or not. “Because I—for you, I mean.”

Blaine’s head snaps up so fast he’s sure he can feel it when his brain sloshes against the wall of his skull. The prickly feeling spreads out and yeah, he likes it, “Oh god, Kurt, of course. I—you, Kurt. A lot of them.” All of them. All the intentions in the world percolating inside him and keeping him up at night, brimming with all the things he wants to do with Kurt.


He grabs Kurt’s hand and squeezes because there’s too much he wants to do to actually do anything more. There’s the sound of footsteps overhead and all that desire collides face first into the looming wall of dread that rises up at the knowledge that Burt Hummel totally knows about the things Blaine wants too.

Kurt blushes pink and he looks like he wants to say something more but then the footsteps begin to descend the stairs. Probably for that ‘talk’ Mr. Hummel said they were going to have. Blaine fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest. He shoves all and any thought of their mutual unwholesome intentions away, far, far out of reach to save for a time when he’s not sitting on his boyfriend’s couch awaiting his death via embarrassment.

This kind of thing probably doesn’t happen in Australia.


He needs to ask Kurt his opinion on wallabies.

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