Cuddle Challenge
Because Bron and I were discussing cuddles and she issued a challenge to a fic-snuggle off where no one actually wins but a lot of hugging is written.
There is always something special in just being held.
Kurt remembers those first few times perfectly. How new it had felt, to be hugged like that again, something he hadn’t had for years. His father’s hugs had long since died down to two-second affairs, and those occasional flings with Rachel or Mercedes’ arms were always preceded by some sort of fight, which took away some of the charm, but with Blaine, suddenly he could remember why he had always craved his mother’s hugs, longed for the warmth of her body, the thrum of her heart in her chest. Blaine was so solid and real and present, with one arm wrapped around Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt’s arms tied around his chest as they sat on the couch and watched the movie. It seemed like such a natural position that Kurt was amazed they hadn’t done this sooner, before remembering that, oh yes of course, that was Blaine’s fault for being an idiot and not kissing him until two days ago, but that was okay because Kurt would just attach himself to Blaine’s chest now like an affectionate limpet and they could carry on.
Even as the hugs had slowly progressed from the upright shoulder-upon-shoulder lean (appropriate in the presence of parents, as long as hands stayed to a designated ‘above the waist’ area), to the semi-upright chest-to-back scenario (okay around Carole, but in need of a hasty abort should Burt or either of Blaine’s parents come in the room), each touch remained as special as the first. And when the chest-to-back cuddles had slowly evolved into horizontal versions—sometimes spooning, sometimes face-to-face, which were guaranteed disaster around any parents but much approved by the hard-won battle of the ‘closed-door-but-no-fooling-around’ rule Burt developed over the summer—Kurt had realized that while kisses might be sensationalized by the media and lusted after pre-teens everywhere, cuddling was really quite perfect. It was such a simple way of saying ‘I care’ without any of the drama of bumped noses or onion breath, and sometimes, oftentimes, the warmth of Blaine’s body did so much more than the touch of his tongue could.
And then sex was introduced, and everything changed once again. Suddenly, there was a new talk to be had in the Hummel-Hudson household, perhaps even more humiliating than the original, in which Burt had sat the two furiously blushing boys down and explained that he knew that they were fooling around, and that if they had to do it, it had better damn well be in someone’s house, because he needed them to be safe and the backseat of a car in Lima just wouldn’t do the trick. Suddenly, every touch, every kiss, had the chance to bloom into something more, and when you’ve only just discovered the pleasure of assisted orgasm, who were they to deny that? Suddenly, ‘horizontal’ was no longer a hugging position, but a position for something else entirely, and an hour alone was no longer an hour of stolen cuddling, but an hour of seeing just how fast they could take each other’s clothes off before the house was reoccupied.
But of course, that initial rush died down after about a month, as they’d both realized they had as long as they needed to learn each other’s bodies, a lifetime if they wanted, and slowly hours had seeped back from a mad need for sex to movies and soft kisses and parentally approved interactions, with special nights set aside for intimacy, something they could take time with, because they had time for it.
Sometimes, those nights don’t involve sex at all, but only an idiot would claim they aren’t intimate. Like now, Kurt lies with his back pressed against Blaine’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, and just focuses on being held. In the morning, he will have to drive back home and try to ignore his father’s knowing look and Finn’s nervous throat-clearing, and maybe if he’s lucky he’ll manage to avoid the Anderson parents altogether. Monday will no doubt be full of drama and crying—he’s sure at least one couple will have had some sort of ‘significant event’ that will lead to yelling and tears and the possible song—and Tuesday he has a calculus test and Kurt hates calculus with a fiery passion he usually reserved for Rachel’s pant-suits when their rivalry was at its finest. Right now, though, right now he can just listen to the sound of Blaine’s soft breath in his ear, the way it tickles the hairs at the nape of his neck, and feel Blaine’s arms wrapped around his stomach, the way his knee is slotted between Kurt’s legs and their feet tangled together. They don’t need sex, they don’t need words, they don’t need anything but this, and Kurt could do this for the rest of his life.
He plans to.
