It Was Always You

What You Do For Love

Prompt (from otpprompts on Tumblr): Imagine that Person A drops something and shatters glass all over the place while they're barefoot and so are stuck in center of a field of glass shards. Enter Person B, wearing shoes, to carry Person A to safety, care for their feet, and clean up the mess.

Adam groans, muttering a string of curses as he manages to stretch himself out just a tiny bit more. He's leaning heavily against the countertop on tiptoe with one arm reaching for a glass. His wine glass that Blake had to go and stash ever so sneakily in the highest, farthest cabinet in the kitchen.

Good thing Blake's not there with him, he'd be laughing his country ass off.

He edges his weight forward carefully one more time. His fingers finally touch the glass and he uses them to scoot it to the edge, but he taps it a little too hard and sends it flying out of the cabinet. He's too late to save it and it goes crashing to the hardwood floor, sending thousands of glittering pieces everywhere.

He stares down at it and almost laughs. "Nice, real nice," he says to himself. He's barefoot, of fucking course, and as he tries treading around the mess a sliver of glass gets lodged in his foot.  

"Shit," he hisses. He finagles himself into a pose that even his yoga instructor would be impressed with and manages to dislodge it without much bleeding. "Blake! Get in here!"

Blake comes ambling into the room a minute later, appearing calm as always.

"You dyin' or somethin'?" He places a hand on the countertop and his eyes sweep their glass-covered floor before settling back on Adam. "Jesus Christ. You okay?"

"I'm fine." He huffs. "I've told you a million times not to put my glass up there. We're not all Sasquatch, you know."

"It ain't a big deal. If you needed help gettin' it down you could have told me instead of turnin' our kitchen into a war zone."

"This wouldn't have happened if the glass was in a place that people of normal height can get to. You know what? Just...don't put my stuff up there anymore, okay? That was my favorite glass."

A smile is beginning to form on Blake's face. Bastard.

"Is something funny?"

"You're short and you're clumsy."

"And you're a dick." He glances around his feet. There's no safe way out of the kitchen, he's completely surrounded. "Are you gonna stand there laughing or help me out of here?"

"Hold on." Blake bends down, unlaces his shoes, and extends them toward Adam.

He groans behind a laugh. "Fuck you."

"Fine." Blake sets the shoes down and starts to walk away. "Take it or leave it."

"Wait," Adam says. Blake turns around. Not that he was really about to leave anyway.

"You're supposed to come in here and rescue me." Adam stretches out his arms needily towards the other man, giving him his best puppy-dog face. "Please?"

"Only 'cause you asked so nice." Blake puts his shoes back on and walks over. Adam gracefully jumps into his outstretched arms.

"You're heavy," Blake complains.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Adam says as he snuggles into Blake's shoulder, choosing to also ignore the hell of a time they're going to have cleaning up the kitchen.

Instead of putting him down once they're in the clear, Blake trudges up the stairs and into their bedroom. He finally sets him down on the bed and pulls him into a kiss filled with soft stubble and warmth.

"I won't put your stuff up there anymore. Wouldn't want my baby to hurt himself."

Adam smiles, the taste of Blake still on his lips. "On second thought, I think I could get used to it. But on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You get to clean up the mess."