Jodhpurs

Blaine had very mixed feelings about Kurt's wardrobe. This was nothing new. He loved Kurt's bravery and Kurt's confidence and Kurt's brazen sense of individuality. Sometimes he loved the clothes themselves - the tight pants were always a pleasure to behold, especially with his knee-high boots. What Blaine loved best about how Kurt dressed, however, was that he didn't dress to make Blaine drool. Kurt dressed for Kurt's own sake, and it was just a happy coincidence when he managed to knock the wind out of his boyfriend in the process.

Blaine didn't always like Kurt's clothes. He never criticized unless pointedly asked (though Kurt didn't extend the same courtesy to him, needless to say), a lesson he had learned well enough with the Prom-Kilt-Fiasco. Despite his confident swagger, Kurt was surprisingly sensitive about what Blaine thought. A dozen jocks could insult him in a hundred different ways and it seemed to just roll off him, but if Blaine so much as questioned the safety of Kurt wearing a Kilt while attending a school dance arm-in-arm with his boyfriend, the walls went up. Blaine had had to spend an entire afternoon coaxing his sweet and tender-hearted Kurt out from behind a cool and callous veneer until he ended up crying a bit in Blaine's arms and admitting that it hurt.

Blaine knew he could hurt Kurt worse than almost anyone, and the power of it scared him as much as it moved him.

The problem had never been how Kurt looked in the kilt, anyway. That kilt had actually been responsible for the very serious conversation that led to the hands-above-the-waist-only rule that governed their relationship with an iron fist for so long.

Kurt had looked amazing in the kilt.

But it was the risk of it all that made Blaine nervous. And Blaine couldn't pretend that he didn't feel a similar surge of nervousness whenever he saw Kurt dressed for the school day in a one-armed sweater cape or a belted leopard print sweater dress or something that looked suspiciously like women's jewelry. Blaine knew his own choices could be enough to get him the occasional slushee in the face (though it hadn't happened yet, a fact that frankly shocked him), but Kurt's choices were downright provocative. Not sexually provocative (necessarily), but they almost seemed to embody a vivid, sustained dare. And it scared Blaine. Because there were much scarier people out there than the idiots at McKinley High School.

It was this unbelievably bravery that made Blaine love Kurt so fiercely that it sometimes made him shiver. And it was this unbelievable bravery that made Blaine want to hide Kurt away from anyone who could ever cause him serious harm.

Even still, Blaine did find himself relaxing about it over time. Kurt was actually quite physically adept, and Blaine was small but he was scrappy. Together, they could take some homophobic asshole. And Kurt had the glee club. Those guys had their backs. Well, Kurt's back. Maybe they would have Blaine's too eventually. In the meantime, at least he had Kurt.

Things had been so much simpler at Dalton.

Blaine missed Dalton every day. He missed the knee-jerk kindness exhibited by so many of the people there. He missed having friends, plural, instead of just being Kurt's boyfriend. And to be honest, he missed the respect that bordered on reverence that he had found with the Warblers. He was something special at Dalton. Here he was insulted on a daily basis, and that was only when anyone bothered to notice him.

But then Kurt would into the choir room wearing something like this, and all Blaine could think was thank god for McKinley fucking High.

Because Blaine liked the tight pants. He fucking loved them. He could stare at Kurt's ass all day, and only 80% of his thoughts would even be filthy if he did. Honestly, sometimes he just couldn't get over the aesthetic of Kurt's ass. So unbelievably shapely in all the right ways, round and firm and cute and hot and okay, so maybe 85%. But still.

But these…these were just something else altogether. Blaine wasn't even sure what to call them, but all he knew was that he couldn't look away. They weren't even tight, except for where they sat flush and low against Kurt's hips, the four large buttons framing his crotch magnificently, and snug around the tops of his knee-high docs.

Kurt looked fucking incredible.

It was one of those outfits that might normally have made Blaine's gut clench just slightly with a nip of fear, but the fear wasn't there in the slightest. He was simply too overcome. He let out a loud breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, and only became aware of how obvious he was being when Tina gave a little laugh and then tossed him a friendly wink. He gave her a sheepish blush in return.

They weren't knickers* exactly, though that was the closest Blaine could come to giving them a name. Kurt wore them with a perfectly tailored black waistcoat and a long-sleeved bone-colored cotton shirt with a slightly low neck. Which meant his most recent bout of hickeys had finally gone away. Blaine made a quick mental note to fix that.

Kurt's ass wasn't nestled in a tight hug like they were in the pants that Blaine generally preferred on him, but the drape of the knickers (they're really not knickers, though. What the hell are they?) accentuated the curve of Kurt's bottom beautifully, even seeming to enhance it a bit. Rather than his preferred bouffant of late, Kurt's hair was slightly spiky with strands framing his face.

His smug face. Blaine suddenly wondered exactly how long he'd gone without blinking.

"Hi," Kurt said softly, sitting down beside him and reaching over to give his knee a gentle squeeze. Blaine swallowed and coughed slightly at the dryness of his throat.

"Hi," Blaine whispered. How the fuck was he going to sit through Glee? Maybe he could fake an illness and drag Kurt with him and they could go put the seats down in the back of Kurt's car and make out for awhile, and ever since they had abolished the no-hands-below-the-belt doctrine, making out almost never meant just kissing anymore.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, looking a bit concerned. Blaine did his best to shed what he was pretty sure was a glazed expression.

"Y-yeah. It's just…" Blaine glanced around the room and then leaned in close so he could put his lips to Kurt's ear.

"You look really hot," he whispered. Kurt swallowed hard.

"Oh?" He asked, his voice going high.

"Yeah." Blaine sat back in his seat properly and fixed Kurt with what was probably a somewhat predatory smile. Kurt bit his lip and blushed through his own smile, and Blaine had to look away for a moment; just a moment so that he wouldn't have to excuse himself to go jerk off in the bathroom.

"So…um…what exactly are those, if I may ask?" He turned back to Kurt and gave a gentle tug on the fabric covering Kurt's legs.

Kurt smiled proudly. "Jodhpurs. Well…a creative adaptation of traditional jodhpurs. You really like them?"

Blaine's heart surged at how Kurt's face lit up. He would have to remember to compliment Kurt's outfits more often.

"I really like them," he answered. They smiled goofily at one another for another few moments through the chatter around them. Mr. Schuester still hadn't arrived and the choir room was, as usual, a bit of a zoo.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Blaine and he couldn't help snorting with laughter.

"What?" Kurt demanded.

"Um…aren't…no. Never mind. It's stupid."

"Tell me."

"No way, Kurt."

Kurt's eyes went icy blue. He glared at Blaine.

"Look. I'll tell you after school, okay?"

"Blaine Anderson, if you don't tell me right this minute why you were laughing at me…"

"No!" Blaine defended quickly, desperately. "No, Kurt, I swear I wasn't laughing at you. It's just…"

"Yes?"

"Well, aren't jodhpurs traditionally riding pants?"

Kurt stared at him for a long moment before his eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. "Oh my god."

"Hey, I told you-"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You are incorrigible."

Blaine leaned toward him and bumped their shoulders together. "Hey. Are you telling me you don't want to explore the practical applications of your creative interpretation after school?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, the blush not leaving his face, and turned to the front of the classroom as Mr. Schue walked in, blathering something or other about why he was late.

They both sat with their hands in their laps, gazes fixed on their teacher.

And neither of them stopped smiling for the rest of the day.