hey klainers wanna hear a joke?
that’s it. That’s the joke.
sequel to this.
Blaine stares at Kurt’s card in his hands. It has his name—Kurt Hummel—as well as his profession—tattoo artist—and his place of work. His number is underneath it all, printed neatly and squarely in tiny black letters, and those Blaine focuses on until his vision fuzzes.
It’s been a few days, and his tattoo is healing nicely. He’s had no problems with it, has had no need to call the shop and has no reason to ever go back there, and, yet, he still can’t help but think about the way Kurt had been talking to him before and after. It had been flirting. It had to have been flirting. Kurt had said his shirt was cute, and he’d looked appreciative when Blaine had pushed down his pants, right?
I need to stop.
Hiatus is hard for everyone….
The upside of hiatus season.
I did not choose fandom life. Fandom life stopped me on a staircase and said “excuse me, can ask you a question? I’m new here.”