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Packing for sleep-away camp turns out to be more difficult than Blaine imagined, despite the modest yet functional amount of activewear he does actually own. Asian Camp offers some choices, serviceable sweatshirts and baseball caps and socks with the camp logo splashed across, but after a year of sartorial freedom at McKinley...well, Blaine doesn’t feel the need to go back to uniforms any time soon.
Which is why Kurt is here, rifling through his drawers to help him pick out some appropriate camp-sanctioned choices -- comfort without sacrificing the personal aesthetics he’s grown to relish over the past months. Blaine sits on the edge of his bed, next to a half-full suitcase of approved outfits.
“What about these? I can’t believe you didn’t pack them already.” Kurt holds up a pair of grey sweatpants, the ones that fit snugly around his hips but require cuffing at the ankles.
“They’re too long. They’d just get in the way.”
“Pack ‘em.” Kurt’s tone is firm, though he’s smiling. “Maybe I just want to know you’re wearing them.”
“Okay,” Blaine nods, taking the pants and folding them into a neat square.
Kurt sighs and checks his wristwatch regretfully. “I have to go make dinner for Dad in a few minutes. Will you be okay without me?”
“Never,” Blaine says with a small grin, “but I’ll be okay for today. Call me later?”
”Of course,” Kurt whispers as Blaine pulls him down for a goodbye kiss, when the bedroom door bursts open and --
“Santana!” Kurt’s smile stretches a little too wide at the sight of Santana leaning casually against the door jamb. “How lovely of you to drop by!”
“Mike and Tina are busy, so I asked her to come over after you leave,” Blaine explains. “How’d you get in?”
She shrugs, picking at a fingernail. “I told your mom you ordered a threesome from Lesbians ‘r’ Us.” Blaine really hopes she’s joking. “When my favorite gays ask for my help, I just can’t say no.”
“So you did get my text!”
Kurt raises an eyebrow but says nothing, touching his arm briefly and slipping out the door. “Be nice,” he calls out, and the front door clicks shut.
“Anyway. We’re just...packing for the sleep-away portion of Asian Camp. I’m a counselor this year, remember?”
“Yeah, whatever. Listen. I’ve been going to cheer camp since I was a fetus. Take my advice.” She strides over to his suitcase. “First thing to remember is that you’re going to be sweating. A lot. As flattering as they are for your juicy booty, they’ll be stifling by the end of the afternoon.” She picks up the grey sweats and tosses them aside. “And what the hell are these? Kinky, but not cute.” Her face scrunches up in revulsion.
“My shorts?”
A bright red pair dangles from Santana’s fingertips. “Is your hobbit ass shopping from the Victoria’s Secret catalog? These are practically bikini bottoms.”
With a frown, Blaine crosses his arms. “They’re men’s shorts, and they’re comfortable. Breathable fabric, with a lot of give.”
“Yeah, giving a show. You’d be one high kick away from a serious wardrobe malfunction. Plus, this is the Ohio backwoods. Do you really want to get poison ivy all up on your junk?” She punctuates this sentence with a stretch and snap of the shorts, and Blaine ducks as they fly past his head.
“The campgrounds have been cleared of all poisonous growth!”
The protest falls on deaf ears. “They’re still panties. Unless you’re getting paid extra, leave them at home.”
Santana turns to Blaine’s closet to assess the rest of his wardrobe, and Blaine scowls at her back. She might have some good advice, but he’s keeping the sweats. Kurt likes them.
And the shorts, because he likes them.