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He is not wearing a shirt.

You've been sitting in his bedroom, on his bed, for a good twenty minutes, but it still has yet to sink in. He. Is not. Wearing a shirt. And that should not be a big deal, because not only have you seen him shirtless before, you've actually had your hands on his bare chest during that blissful five minutes where you had to drag his drunk ass to bed. But it really totally is, and you know that should he want to talk to you, you're going to stutter like an idiot, and probably drool. Or choke to death on the embarrassed bile rising up in your throat. Or die of humiliation because of the bulge rising up in your jeans.

But Jesus, why it he not wearing a shirt? It's fucking freezing in the house, the damn hole in the window, the one you're both too broke to get fixed.

You wonder why he called you in here, making you get off the pathetic excuse of a couch you called your bed. He’s pacing around the room, his hair a mess, and you’re not sure what’s wrong. Usually Kurt would hold up alone in the room, not leaving for hours, only coming out to go to band practice or when you both were going to get smashed.

“I can’t sleep.” he mutters, and you can’t help but wonder maybe it’s because you’re freezing to death. “Sleep with me.”

You’re not sure you heard that right, because Kurt didn’t just ask you to sleep with him. You’d dreamed about this since moving in, at first it had been innocent, just wanting to lay on a mattress and not the couch, but as you got to know him and spend everyday with him it had turned less than ‘innocent’

You wanted to lay there, pull him in your arms, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. Let your hands slip down, rubbing circles against his flat stomach, and if you were lucky you would be able to sneak your hands below the waistband of his pajama bottoms.


You look up and see him chewing nervously on the bottom of his lip. He looks scared, that maybe you would be disgusted by him. You’re not of course. You could never be.

“Okay, come on.” You tell him, scooting over and laying down, lifting the covers for him to get in with you. He has a smile now on his beautiful face, and he crawls into bed with you. You can’t remember the last time you felt this good, probably back when traveling with Scream, and an eager girl would take you back to her place for the night, but Kurt wasn’t an eager girl, Kurt was so much more than that. Because he meant something to you. You knew this because everytime he was around you felt like there were butterflies in your stomach, beating their wings at one hundred miles.

To your surprise, Kurt scoots so his back is pressed to your chest, and you hesitantly wrap your arms around his waist. You pray this is what he wants, because you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle the rejection.

You see his eyes flutter shut, he looks so peaceful. And you can feel yourself falling more for him.

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