To Blaine:

I was thinking…

Kurt stops with that, baiting his husband, waiting to see if he'll take a bite. Kurt doesn't want to have second thoughts about his idea, but this way he can easily back out if Blaine texts back with something other than…

To Kurt:

What about?

Eek!

Okay, here he goes. His fingers actually shake as he continues…

To Blaine:

I was hoping that tonight…

He hits send before he means to, but Blaine seems to be sitting on his phone, because he replies back right away with…

To Kurt:

Yeah?

Kurt giggles with nerves, glad no one from the office is lingering around, listening in.

Though Kurt can't really be certain that's true. The Vogue office is notorious for having ears, eyes, and camera phones ready at the wait.

To Blaine:

We might try something…new…

Did Kurt actually shriek out loud when he hit send? Yes. Yes, he did.

God! Hadn't they been married a while? Should he still get a case of the junior high school giggle fits every time wanted to experiment in bed?

To Kurt:

Something new how?

Okay, Kurt thinks. It's now or never.

To Blaine:

Like, maybe…a game?

Kurt looks back over his texts and raises a brow. Is he being coy, or is this pulling teeth line of questioning getting annoying? Maybe he should just call Blaine up and ask.

To Kurt:

What kind of game?

Parcheesi! Monopoly! his nerves scream. But he can't wimp out. Not after he got this far. He just doesn't want to sound…stupid.

To Blaine:

What are your thoughts about roleplaying?

…

The pause in between the texts nearly gives Kurt a heart attack.

Oh God! Ah! he thinks. How does he fix this? Undo! Undo!

To Kurt:

Oh…my…God, Kurt! Yes, yes, so much yes!

Kurt squeals again, and this time, he knows he sees a head of golden blonde curls bounce around the edge of his door, but he doesn't have time for that now.

To Blaine:

Great! When I get home tonight, get ready for some fun.

To Kurt:

Don't worry, baby. I'm already way ahead of you. ;)

Kurt shimmies with his phone in his hand, reading over that last text message. Blaine's way ahead of him! So, this is one of his secret fantasies, too? Oh God! Kurt's gotten excited about opening their sexual vistas before, but not like this. Not when the two of them had been so obviously on the same Cosmo page.

“So, what did he say?” Isabelle asks in a clandestine whisper, sneaking in to Kurt's office as if she knows there are a dozen pairs of eyes on her.

“He said yes!” Kurt squeaks.

“Well, well, well…” Isabelle holds her hand out for Kurt to take, knocking him a sly wink. “Let's get you down to the vault and find something for you and your man to wear. And worry not - the dry cleaning's on me.”

***

Kurt leaves Vogue five minutes early, with Isabelle's blessing, and races home, garment bags in hand, nearly sprinting the whole way there. Isabelle offered to lend him the town car, but he needed the fresh air to make the giggles go away and his stomach stop shaking. He'd feel like a moron getting so nervous that he vomited all over $9,000 in vintage couture costumes, even though Isabelle told him not to worry about any stains they might inherit. She said that all the costumes in the Vogue vault had a sordid history.

Blaine must have been watching from the window, just as excited as Kurt; must have tracked the sound of his footsteps running up the stairs, because as soon as Kurt gets to the loft door, it flies open, and Blaine throws his hands over Kurt's eyes.

“Oh,” Kurt yelps, pleasantly surprised. “I like this. Hello.”

“Hello to you, too,” Blaine says, his voice low, sultry, sexy as fucking hell. Something soft and silky brushes Kurt's cheek, and the little earthquakes he'd been able to quell with a brisk jog home start to rumble in his stomach like he's become the epicenter of a major fault line. So, while Kurt was busy preparing at Vogue, Blaine already had a costume of his own? Or, could that be a blindfold? Or something to bind Kurt's wrists? Whatever surprise Blaine has planned, it already has Kurt weak at the knees. He won't even be upset that Blaine jumped over his.

“So, what's going on?” Kurt asks, coming up with a seductive voice to match his husband's.

“Okay,” Blaine says, carefully leading Kurt inside, “I gave your idea a lot of thought, trying to come up with the perfect scenario…” Blaine stops Kurt a few feet inside. “Now, keep your eyes shut so I can lock the door. We don't want anyone interrupting us.”

“No, we don't,” Kurt says, squeezing his eyes obediently and grinning like mad till his cheeks start to twitch. He feels Blaine relieve him of the garment bags, then take his hand. There's that brush of satiny fabric again, and Kurt nearly makes an inhuman noise.

Blaine walks Kurt a few more feet, and then they stop. Kurt figures they're in the living room, so he quickly tries to imagine what's going to happen in there. Oh, God! He can't! Blaine could have come up with so many different scenarios. Game of Thrones…Pirates of the Caribbean…Lord of the Rings (Be Aragorn! Please, be Aragorn!)…The Great Gatsby… Kurt doesn't even know where he would have started. His favorite musical? His favorite movie? That strange Wookie erotica fanfiction he reads with Sam off the Internet?

Kurt hopes it's not that, but if Blaine went all out then who cares? Kurt's not going to complain. Besides, this is their first time with this particular kink. They can always fine tune it later on.

“On the count of three,” Blaine says, that sultry voice invaded by a slight nervous titter.

“Okay,” Kurt agrees.

“One…two…three!”

Kurt claps his hands excitedly under his chin and opens his eyes, ready to plunge into the world of Blaine's deepest, darkest, sex-filled imagination.

Blinking at the image in front of him, it takes a second for Kurt to process what he's looking at.

Blaine is indeed wearing a costume – a long, black, shapeless robe, kind of like a graduation gown, with flowing sleeves; a sparkly purple bowtie around his neck (and yes, he's wearing a collared shirt); and atop his head, a conical hat covered in purple material, stars drawn on with silver glitter pen. Kurt's standing in front of their kitchen table, the surface covered with some sort of map – no, it's a game board, little pewter pieces clustered in the center, and several different die scattered around with various different numbered sides, some with strange symbols. Blaine has his arms spread wide, proudly displaying the set up he's prepared, a replica wooden wand in one hand, and a faux skull from last Halloween in the other.

“Uh…Blaine,” Kurt says, fighting so hard to force his smile to stick around that it turns into a stiff grimace. “Wh-what is all this?”

“It's Dungeons and Dragons!” Blaine announces, coming around to his frozen husband and leading him to a seat at the table. “Actually, it's Advanced DND. Now, don't let that intimidate you. I'll walk you through it, explain everything to you step by step.”

“That's…that's great,” Kurt says, catching up with what's going on, the epic miscommunication that occurred, while Blaine starts to mumble something about it being better with more players and maybe he should call Sam to join the quest so Blaine can be Dungeon Master. At some point between actually pulling his phone out of his pocket and grabbing another chair, he happens to eye Kurt, his tight smile sinking into a single line.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks, phone halfway to his ear with the number showing on the screen. “What's…what's wrong?”

“Well,” Kurt says, thinking of the nicest way to put this without feeling like a complete jerk. He might be a little more upset by this embarrassing faux pas if Blaine didn't look so damn happy. “When I said roleplaying, I didn't mean…a board game.”

“No?” Blaine asks, his forehead wrinkling. “What were you…” Blaine's eyebrows shoot straight up, and his lips pop into a perfect ‘o'. “Oh,” Blaine says, eyes darting to the garment bags he had hung on the tree rack by the door, their presence seeming inconsequential until that moment. “Oh, you meant…oh, God, Kurt. I'm sorry.” The excitement on his face washes clean away, a red flush of chagrin taking its place. “I'm sorry. I thought you meant…” He sighs. “I guess we got our wires a little crossed.”

“I guess we did,” Kurt says with a chuckle, seeing the humor in all of this, that, while Blaine had spent the last hour (possibly) setting up his game board and digging out the costume he's wearing, Kurt had spent an even longer amount of time thumbing through skin tight pirate outfits and authentic Renaissance inspired Essex long vests and trousers.

“I…I'm sorry, Kurt,” Blaine repeats, pulling the hat, which had started to slide to the side, off of his head, and putting it down on the table. “I guess I messed up, huh?”

“No,” Kurt says, quickly coming around the table, flattered by the fact that Blaine went through all this trouble. “You didn't mess up.” He picks the hat off the table and carefully puts it back on Blaine's head. “We just have a different definition of roleplaying, that's all. So how about we put them together? Meet in the middle?”

“How do we do that?” Blaine asks, wetting his lips at a sudden renewed look of lust in his husband's eyes.

“How would you like to play the first ever game of strip DND?”