It was as if Kurts life had met a light of some sort. A light that made his ambiance brighter and cheerier. The grass was greener, the sky was an even more pleasing blue, the birds soar and embraced their freedom. He even found tolerance for the assholes in McKinley. He could not explain it exactly, but he learned to not question happiness.

His father had been discharged from the hospital and after much assurance on his part, Kurt finally felt at ease going back to school after missing it for two days to care for his father. They negotiated a deal whereby his father had to pick up every hourly clock. Burt wasnt too happy, but he chose that than to be nursed at home by Kurt. He knew his father did not really suffer anything serious, but over exhaustion could have led to much worse. He was thankful his father didnt meet the worst of it.

As Kurt practically flowed down the hallway, turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to the infrequent names he was called by a few cheerleaders and jocks, his eyes set upon one classroom where he knew the boy would be at.

The boy. The boy that has professed his feelings, who has granted him his subconscious desire, who has given him the one thing he yearned for in his otherwise sad and miserable adolescence- somebody who genuinely cared for him. Maybe it was pathetic, to base and surround his life around one guy, but Kurt has never understood the concept of relationships ever. He used to find people who make their relationships their lives to be appalling. Now he understood why they did what they did.

Pushing the door open, there he was. The boy, seated on out of the long benches, donned in a simple black long sleeved t-shirt, his hair in a casual form but no matter how effortless the boy look, his eyes were his best trait that could make any outfit look as if it cost more than it actually did. Beautiful, sun flaked saucers with a canopy of eyelashes over hanging its platform.

"Hey you," greets the boy, his eyes smiling, little wrinkles by the corners. He must have smiled a lot, or was of older age. Definitely not the latter.

"Youre earlier than I am. Nobody is ever earlier than me," says Kurt and he strides towards the bench, all the sudden his self-conscious of his choice of office; a coral shirt tucked into army green trousers and off white suede loafers to complement his shirt. His bracelet was of course his favourite accessory.

"Well, I was hoping I would catch you," says the boy, his simple words sudden a flush of flattery down to Kurts system. It was haywire down there, always feeling warm in his stomach from being constantly swept off his feet.

"Youre lucky then," says Kurt, taking a seat next to the boy. He hasnt seen Lance since the day his fathers false scare. That was two days ago. Not that the boy did not offer a few rendezvous, but he had wanted to focus more on his father and mend everything that was broken.

"Your father doing okay?" ask the boy, eyes intent on Kurt with that same deep concern tone.

"Yes, hes doing fine. A little frustrated that Ive him on bed rest a lot but otherwise fine. Hes going back to work tomorrow, despite mine telling him to take a week," tells Kurt. His father was a workaholic after all. The best he could do was to ensure his father did not work his limit too much. He had called his fathers employees ahead of time to make sure they were on-board to keep Burt in the office more than the mechanics.

"Thats good to hear," tells the boy. He spins in his four legged stool then, facing Kurt and marrying their hands together. "Ive genuinely missed you."

Kurts knees could have buckled if he wasnt seated down. He has surrendered his control to suppress the heat rising on his cheeks. It as no point. Lance just had a blushing affect on him. He wished he was as confident and comfortable with words as the boy was. Every time he uttered something romantic, Kurt found himself tongued tied and its not because he didnt want to reciprocate those feelings but because the boy also had a lost-for-words affect on him.

"Me too," was what Kurt remotely managed to respond. He had the urge to lean in and fall into one of the boys legendary kisses, but he thought otherwise. He was not much of a public display of affection kind of person, then again he did kiss the boy in the a public hospital waiting room.

This was, of course, different because it was McKiney. Nothing was officially stated, but McKinley always had a double standard from the way the teachers treated students who came from affluent families and students who came from working class families, to the way they perceive and accepted student relationships. For example; Puckerman and Quinn could fornicate in front of the entire student body during lunch time and the teachers would simply wave it off because first, they came from well-off families, and two, because they were straight. But the second two guys exchange innocent kisses, they would either suffer the wrath of principal Sue, or be executed-- expelled, actually. Executed was just to make a point.

The story goes back to roughly ten years ago, of Jeremy Gurley and Enniss Meyard. It was one of those school gossips that was passed down by generations. Kurt had heard it being told once, when he was in the boys bathroom and heard one of the jocks talk about it. Jeremy and Enniss were allegedly two gay kids, and were an item. They flaunted their relationship status because they did not care, and because they wanted to rebel against the prejudice the school was infected with. They held hands and exchanged kisses- sometimes even had the cheek to make-out on the bleachers, amongst other students, during Friday night football games.

They threw caution in the wind and acted as if their relationship was so easily accepted by others, until a day came whereby the two boys were making their way home on foot when they were jumped by five football players. The rumour said that one of the boys, Jeremy, was actually killed in the brutal attack, but what was the most scariest factor was that some people heard the school itself had put put those joke up for the job. Nothing was concrete, however, but something as scandalous as that could not be ignored. The rumor suggested that the school did that to protect their family-friendly environment. But to be honest, Kurt wasnt sure why he even believed that story to be true when he heard it from the mouth of a jock, which in the history of McKinley, arent the brightest students.

"Whats wrong?" asked the boy, clearly noticing a switch into Kurts facial expression.

"Nothings wrong, dont worry," tells
Kurt, swallowing his urge to claim those lips. He needed to remember that story. Maybe McKinley was not as ruthless as they were in the rumored past, but the current school system was just as corrupted so it was best to not risk anything. He could kiss the life out of the boy outside the school premises anyway. "I was just thinking when are we going to get this chemistry assignment done. Were close to deadline."

"Oh, yeah. Ive almost forgotten. We cant ignore deadlines, can we? They can be life altering should we miss it," tells the boy, a little vague in Kurts perspective. "When do you wanna get started?"

"How about today? After school of course, and after your little fight club," tells Kurt, a little excited to know that he had after school fighting lessons with Blaine and those bunch of misfits that Kurt has grown fond of.

"Sounds good," curtly says the boy, his attention span still on Kurt, eyes dazzling and lips welcoming. He needed to break away, tear his gaze and stare at something less tempting to kiss.

"Finals are coming up. Are you as nervous as I am?" ask Kurt. A more general topic to converse about would be safe, but the boy emits a small laughter as if mocking the subject at hand.

"Pretty nervous," tells the boy. He obviously was joking. He was smart at basically all the subjects, particularly American History, though his other subjects did not fall below the grade A.

"I have no idea how Im going to clear chemistry. Its impossible. Who would care to figure out what has does ammonia and calcium oxide emit anyway? Its pointless knowledge," exasperates Kurt.

"A chemist, maybe. Or a scientist," tells the boy, eyes intently at him as if he was pointing something out to Kurt, and he knew or course. His mother found his to be of a jewel knowledge. She branched a career from this.

"Ive said this before, but you would think the son of a chemist would find shit like this fundamental but nope. Its like rocket science to me," tells Kurt. It was a real wonder what exactly did he inherit from his parents. He knew nothing of engineering, which was his fathers profession, nor did he excel in science even though his mother was one of the top research scientist in a prestigious university.

"I can tutor you, if you want. Ill even reward you with kisses if you get the answers correct," tells the boy, a salacious smirk on that handsome face that always has Kurt running to a cave, blushing and grinning like an idiot to himself.

"That idea does sound intriguing," says Kurt, remaining calm despite his monumental urge to succumb to the boy and his unfailing charms.

"Okay then," smiles the boy. The boundary Kurt was setting between them was strained. All he wanted to do was lunge himself for Lance and devoured every last bit of those lips.

What would the modern day McKinley do if he pulled an old Jeremy and Enniss? It was his last year after all. Go out with a bang is what people say, right? But then again, this relationship was too precious for Kurt to simply risk it all. But he wont deny that it wasnt tempting, especially when the boy looked so good with his muscles straining the fibers of his tshirt.

-----------

The day had simply been torturous for Blaine as he used every single cliché in the book to win the boys heart. He knew very well that it would work. The relationship was fresh for the boy, something he always secretly wanted but never had the guts to say it aloud until the opportunity landed on his lap. He knew it would be easy to get as close to the boy as humanly possible, but that was why it was most torturous for Blaine.

Still, at least the day was looking brighter as he stepped into the abandoned garage to find his so-called students awaiting for him already. The small little army sat in a united circle on the center of the gymnastic mat, talking about something that seemed the utmost of interest. It reminded him somehow of the round table meetings they had back in the CIA headquarters, the reminder making him miss being at the highest establishment, being assigned the most complexed missions of the bunch. It always felt gratifying when the other agents would shoot him dirty, envious glares.

"Hey guys, whats going on?" ask Blaine as he walked towards the group, his inquisition getting the attention of the colony.

"We were just discussing about prom," tells the Asian girl, Tina. Shes always dressed in black, which is so depressing. "Marley here was wondering if you had a date yet."

The raven haired girl blushes so red Blaine was momentarily afraid she was going to burst into flames, leaving blood stains on the wall and pieces of flesh scattered over the floor. "No, not really. When is prom, anyway?"

"After term finals. From now, in two weeks," tells Jeremy, the boy with the throbbing boil on his nose. Two weeks- that would mean if Blaine couldnt complete the mission in time, they would be forced to abort and leave it in the hands of the director to make the final call. That would mean he probably wouldnt even be around for prom. The thought scared him for some reason. Has he grown so attached to the school and these students that he was reluctant to leave?

"Thats- really soon. You guys are going?" ask Blaine. It would be best not to include himself in this discussion, considering he wouldnt even be around for the event. He would be back in the agency, and putting this entire thing behind him. It was a scary notion.

"Well, if we can find dates. I tried asking Penelope Geimer earlier, she practically laughed at my face," sullenly tells Jacob, whom is seated next to Marley, elbows resting on his knees and looks absolutely depressed.

"Maybe she isnt the right girl. Try asking someone else maybe-"

"Theres no point sugar coating it, Lance. Face it, were ugly pieces of shit with absolutely no chance of landing prom dates whatsoever," tells Jacob. Judging by the way the other three boys head fall dejection, they all collectively believed the same thing.

It was definitely a pity to watch, how these boys who were geniuses have an immerse depth of insecurity. Its funny, they can program softwares, hack through firewalls and break into the schools security system yet they cannot do something as fundamental as asking a girl to prom. Somehow they remind Blaine of Carl- how he is always two steps ahead of everyone, how hes one of the agencys most trusted researcher but he never seems to have a wife-- or a sex life even.

"Maybe its because of the way you dress," says a familiar voice. All eyes turn to the direction of the door, where Kurt had just walked in and had caught the bit of the conversation. He looked good in his outfit, which explains why he is of standing ground to make such a comment.

"How do I dress?" ask Jacob, eyebrows set in a furrow. Was he really oblivious or was he trying to act clueless? He should know he has bad fashion taste.

"Well, you look like you havent showered in days and your clothes look like you shopped from a thrift shop- not that thats wrong or anything because if youre lucky, there really are nice, vintage pieces at a thrift store but you clearly werent lucky. And dont even get me started on your hair," points out the boy as if he was reading a script.

"I got this for fifty dollars," tells Jacob, emphasizing his polo t-shirt which in no way looks its worth.

"Then you were ripped off," tells Kurt. Blaine could not help but to admire how honest the boy was, putting it in such a direct way. Sometimes hard truth is the best form of healing, right? "If you want to land any girl at all, you should start dressing like the male lead of a movie. Not a geeky sidekick everyone loves just because."

Jacob seemed to take offence, but he does a damn good job at hiding it. His face lights up a crimson red, which was a testament to just how humiliated he was but it was true, wasnt it? Being intelligent only gets you so far. People dont fall for personalities at first sight, they fall for looks. That was the hard truth of society, but was it really fair for Kurt to tell the boy to change the way he was? Blaine was torn.

"How do you suppose we play male leads?" ask Phat Ho, and he looks shy all of a sudden, as if he wanted the same advice.

"By carrying yourself with confidence," says Tina.

"Or simply by being nice," says Marley, her blue eyes flashing at Blaine before she retracts quickly. "But dressing well is the first two to being desirable. Take it from a guys perspective. Would you guys be attracted to a girl who covers all her skin or a girl who wears short skirts and right tank tops?"

"The latter, obviously," says Jeremy.

"Exactly. Girls will immediately be attracted to guys who dress well, have a certain composure, is well mannered and looks good," says Marley.

"How do we even just transform ourselves into Zac Efrons of the world? In case you girls havent noticed, were repugnant," demoralizing tells Jacob. He sighs heavily and a profound sense of pity rises inside of dead. He knew he was on a deadline to finish the mission, to retrieve the objective, but he has felt too attached to these kids and maybe that was a dangerous thing, but for now he would forgo that.

"I can help," tells Blaine, regretfully or not would be a problem to deal with later. "I can get you guys in a strict exercising regime. Youll be whipped into shape by prom, I can promise you that."

"And I can help with the way you dress," tells Kurt, taking a step forward and joining in to the tight circle. "I wont claim to be a fashion prodigy or whatever, but I do know style."

"He definitely does," tells Blaine, and by the looks of it he unintentionally just swept the boy off his feet again. It was true, however. The boy did dress so well with skinny jeans that wrapped around those long legs of his.

"We can help you guys how to talk to woman. Teach you guys how to sweep a girl off her heels," says Tina, Marley agreeing with a smile.

"You guys would do that?" ask Jacob.

"Of course we would," says Blaine in all sincerity. "Were all friends, right?"

The four boys looked absolutely in awe, or so Blaine assumed. The throbbing red boil on Jeremys nose looked as if it would burst out huge lumps of pus all over the gravel floor. Even though it was morally the greatest thing to do- to help a couple of self-conscious boys feel more confident about themselves, he knew he was straying away from the mission. What feared him was that he liked it, and somehow dreaded it would end. The whole deal of being a teenager was actually really exciting, and new to him.

"We are," smiles Jacob. Blaine wasnt sure what it was- maybe the gratifying feeling of helping out a friend, but he wondered if the evil world outside the doors of McKinley were this simple, where they could resolve problems with the simple notion of being friends, maybe the Central Intelligence Agency wouldnt even exist because there would be no crisis to protect the people from.

"So whats the first order of business?" ask Jacob. He looks perky and excited now, and the energy radiated off the room.

"Haircut, definitely," says Kurt and everyone joins in a unison laughter at the expense of Jacobs large auburn cloud of a hair.

This was what youth is about, isnt it? The feeling of infinity.

----------

What a twist in Kurts final year of McKinley it has been. At the start, he was content with enduring whatever attacks he would receive from the vile royalties of McKinley, but it seems as if he has acquired a few friends a long the one- and a certain hazel eyes boy whom he could kiss at his leisure, even. Not too shabby for someone who used to eat lunch under the bleachers to avoid being called a Faggot.

Kurt had felt a surge of sympathy for that Afro kid in Lances little illicit fight club. He knew, of course, the feeling of being undesired, and maybe after landing himself a handsome guy, he wanted to give back to those less fortunate in the romance department. He wouldnt claim to understand the opposite side because being gay does not mean you have one foot on each side, but he knew of course that looks trumped anything else. It wasnt a shallow thought- it was reality. An unfair judgement, but take the school itself for instance. The students who dominated the rest were those who looked like cut outs from a Sports Fitness magazine. Puckerman is an asshole, but there was no shadow of a doubt that he could be a Harvey Davidson model if he wanted to.

Maybe someday, someone will be the revolution, for now, that is what the world was.

Shortly after the fight club, the two girls had even cornered Kurt and asked him to tag along with them to scout for prom dresses. Apparently they had taken notice to how he looked impeccable on a daily basis. It as flattering, and for a short second he was reluctant to agree, but the girls seemed desperate, and to be honest- Kurt didnt quite mind. Anything for new friends, which is an odd change of character considering he used to be so sheltered and reserved. Did Lances confession actually open himself up to the possibility of having friends, and become sociable? It was odd, indeed.

But for tonight, Kurt was putting all that to the back of his head. The sun had gone down a few minutes ago maybe and it was dark outside, Lance would be here any minute, and the thought made him nervous for some reason. The reason was of course pretty blunt- it was because his father was home, and this would mean he would have to introduce them. He hasnt yet told his father anything about Lance- not the kiss, no twice mutual feelings for each other, not their road to an established relationship- nothing. He was trying to figure just how he was suppose to tell his father, if he would tell him at all.

It wasnt as if his father was clueless about his orientation, but he has never had a boyfriend- or somewhere even along the lines of that- which meant his father never truly had anything to worry about. Now, he had someone who cared for him, someone who desired him. Could this be a game changer, then? For his father to finally be worried because he was gay and everyone knew of the illness gay people transmitted? That was also an unfair judgement. Straight people get STDs too. He was worried out his mind, and when the door bell rang, his whole world could have very well shifted.

"Whos that?" frowns Burt from his single sofa couch, a bowl of Cheetos in his lap, a can of root beer, feet propped onto the coffee table and television playing a football game. His naturally habitat in Kurts eyes.

"Okay, I havent told you yet, but I invited a friend over for studying," says Kurt, being as innocent as he could be before he dropped a bomb on his unprepared father.

"Oh- alright," says Burt, eyes going back to the television. Kurt inhales deeply, needing all the oxygen he could get to brace himself for this.

"And the guy might or might not be someone Im dating," says Kurt. Burts head immediately snaps to his son, eyes riddled with astonishment but good or bad depends on his next few lines.

"The guy youre-- since when do you date?" ask Burt, clearly at a lost for word. The football game lost in some irrelevant void. His attention is now strictly to his son, whom has surprised him with such new information. Has he really been neglecting his son so much that he found the need to seek comfort in another being?

"Since not so long ago. Dad, I know this scares you but trust me- hes a really nice boy. He was there when you were in the hospital but I guess he didnt want to meet you for the first time in such circumstance. Before you start on your compulsory fatherly lecture, can you please give him a chance? Please dad. He means- a lot to me," genuinely tells Kurt, with words he hadnt expected to come out of his mouth, but it was the truth wasnt it? Lance did mean a lot to him, in the short span that they knew each other. The door bell rings again as his father debates what to say.

"Alright. I havent actually been father of the year lately, so Ill give him a chance," tells Burt. A wave of relief washes through Kurt as he lunges towards his father and goes on an endless mantra of thank yous. It was a big deal for him. He has never brought home a friend to introduce to his father before, let alone a boyfriend- or at least, someone who he was romantically involved with.

Kurt pulls the door open and there stands the boy, Lance, donned in a simple white V neck t-shirt with its sleeve accentuating his biceps. The top was moderately translucent, giving a slight hint of his abdominal muscles, that of course sent shock waves down to Kurts inner vixen. His jeans were tight as well, doing him quite justice considering they were toned. His hair was casual, but with some product keeping it in place. Brows naturally perfect, cheeks slightly flushed from the cold outside but his eyes- calm yet blazing, like a sunset.

"Hey you," greets the boy, a slight cheeky grin on his face. It donned on him, as it has many times, how this boy could possibly have feelings for him.

"Hi. So, this isnt an ambush or anything, but my father is home and hed like to meet you. If thats okay," says Kurt, the blood in his veins turning cold as ice as his nerves settled on him.

"Sure," says the boy. His voice did not quaver one bit. It was a real wonder how he could keep a calm composure, even in circumstance that should intimidate him. This boy was truly one of a kind.

Kurt takes the lead and walks back into the house, Lance on his foot trails. Was this really the wisest of decisions? What if his father did not approve- though what could possibly be a deal breaker about Lance? Handsome, confident, a way with words, adorable smile? He was the whole package. If this was one of those scenes where a girl would bring her boyfriend to meet her parents, he would be the ideal guy. The entrance to the living room awaits like the dictatorship room it was.

Burts eyes quickly shoots to the threshold, with wooden panels on the perimeter as Kurt and Lance walks into the living room. Kurts stomach suddenly felt constricted as he realized he would have to be the bridge here- to introduce them both to each other, to be the object that allows them to meet. What a heavy position to be.

"Dad, Id like you to meet Lance," says Kurt, his voice starting to look any form of volume it has. "Lance, this is my father."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," says Lance as he takes a step forward and extends a formal hand greeting to Burt. He did not look nervous one bit, or maybe he was but he did a fine job at hiding it. "I knew you were in the hospital quite recently. I hope youre doing well?"

Burt was just as overwhelmed by how casual the boy was. He wasnt expecting somebody who would shy away into a cave or anything, but he was definitely expecting some reservation but quite this opposite, from the looks of it. This boy was polite, upfront and confident. Definitely a trait that was the utmost appealing, but Burt wanted to shake him a little. Test his composure.

"Doing fine, thanks. So youre the guy dating my son, huh?" ask Blaine, folding his sports section of the newspaper into halves and nearly placing it onto his lap.

"Well, yes. Im quiet fond of your son, mister Hummel. Hes very- eccentric but in the best possible way," says Lance, in which Kurt needed a fork lift to pick his jaw from the ground. Not only was he confident and polite in introducing himself to his father, but he was straight with how he felt about Kurt. He might as well have been the poster child for ideal-boyfriends-to-introduce-to-parents.

"Are you? Well he is unique, Ill tell you that. What year are you in?"

"Im a senior, just like Kurt. Ive only recently moved into town," tells Lance.

"Really? A little strange to enrol into a new school just weeks away from graduation," says Burt, eyes suspiciously lingering on Lance. It made Kurt nervous, which result in him interjecting.

"Is that really necessary to know, dad?" ask Kurt. He wasnt just going to stand there and allowed his father to interrogate, and possibly chase away, his first chance at a relationship.

"Its okay, Kurt," assures Lance. "Trust me, Mister Hummel, I protested the same thing against my parents but they were content to make the move so I really didnt have a choice. Though if I knew I would meet this wonderful son of yours, I would protest not and moved here sooner."

There he went again, with his innocent words of affection that in no way entailed anything sexually insulting. It was as if he had a script and knew every question that would be thrown his way so he had prepared answers prior to it. But no, he was legitimately good with words, and Kurt was baffled. Maybe he could has just sat by the sideline and allowed Lance to fend for himself considering he was so good at it.

"Your parents are okay with this? You dating- a boy?" ask Burt. If it wasnt for his proper upbringing to never hit a parent, Kurt would have lunge himself like a tiger and clawed his father. Was he just generally nervous that everything his father questioned seemed rude to him or were the questions really unfair?

"Well, like many parents I suppose, theyre werent too happy to learn that I was gay but in time they learnt to accept it. I havent told them about Kurt and I yet, but I will as soon as they come back from their business trip," tells Lance with such ease. Where was the Teleprompter that was helping him, Kurt tried helplessly to find.

"Business trip, huh? What are they like cooperate business people?"

"Thats really none of your business to know, father dearest," says Kurt through gritted teeth, his eyes throwing daggers at his father who raises his hands in surrender.

"Just curious, but thats okay. I dont need to know that. When will they be coming back?"

"In two weeks, give or take," tells Lance, but this time he was a little unsure of himself. He needed to take a couple of seconds to answer that, and though it was ridiculous for Kurt to notice, he couldnt help to.

"And youre left alone then? A great big house for your use?" ask Burt, this time his eyes shooting to Kurt as if accusing him of something. Kurt didnt blame him, actually. If he was a father, that would be his main concern as well.

"Not really. My uncle is staying with me for the time being," tells Lance. This seems to put him at a much greater sense of relief- to know that his son hasnt been rolling in bed sheets in an empty house with his boyfriend.

"Well I think thats all the time that we have here on Question Lance Until He Breaks. Tune in next week for more. We better get crackin on those books," interjects Kurt. This little meeting has soared beyond his expectations, but it was better not to push his luck. He would congratulate Lance later, with a kiss- one hes been wanting to plant since the start of the day- for tolerating his fathers invasive questions.

"I hope your intentions are pure, son. Kurt means a great deal to me," concludes Burt.

"I assure you, Mister Hummel. My intentions are nothing but pure," smiles Lance.

---------

Through his years of being a federal agent of the CIA, Blaine has had to undergo diffusing a ticking time bomb placed in the busy streets of New York, has had to go undercover as a cooperate business man to stop a wired transfer to a very lethal con man, even saved the president from a bomb placed in his breakfast soup. Point is, he has had to go through a lot of strained, bold missions but nothing could have prepared him for to meet Kurts mighty father.

The entire ordeal of nerve wrecking, but because he was trained to keep calm and adapt during tight positions, he reckoned he did pretty well. It wasnt as if Burt Hummel had held him on gunpoint to make sure he would treat Kurt right or anything, but just the way those green eyes burned into his flesh. It was as if the man was watching a short clip of his entire life. It was unnerving to be under that scrutiny which is saying something considering he has been in more violet interrogations before. Maybe it was his guilty conscience that made him more conscious of the situation, but he felt as though the man had a keen sense when he was being lied to.

Despite his insufficient grooming- a faded old baseball cap, a stained t-shirt and a greased flannel with distressed jeans, he still was pretty intimidating.

Still, Blaine understood Burts wide eyed suspicion. He was looking out for his son, making sure nobody was out to use him or anything- which, in retrospect, Blaine knew he was doing exactly that. It was a noble thing for a father to do. He couldnt help but to wonder if his own father would have been that bothered to grill every person he brought over. He wouldnt know now, even if he wanted to.

"Thank you," says Kurt as he falls to his bed and exasperate what must have been a long breath held. "It could have gone worse, right?"

"Fairly well, actually. What were you scared about?" ask Blaine as he falls beside the boy.

"Well, I was afraid hed grab the shotgun from under his bed and aim it at you, for one. Ive never brought over anyone to introduce him to before. Not a friend, let alone someone Im dating so I guess I thought he would put on his best fatherly defence but I think he was pretty lenient, and you were great. Seriously, did you plan what to say before hand or does charming somebody come naturally to you?"

"Naturally, I guess," says Blaine, shying away at the boys compliment. "Your father has a shotgun?" For some reason this made Blaine nervous. What did the man have to protect himself from?

"Yeah, he got in a few months back. God knows why, but I rather no question my fathers methods. Im sure he just wants to keep a precaution or something," says Kurt. You get a dog to protect yourself from possibly burglars, but a shotgun sounds deadly extreme- as if he was preparing to be attack, as if he knew or something but that would be preposterous.

"Well Im glad I met your father. He seems like an extremely humble guy," tells Blaine in all honesty. He resembled what any suburban father would look like, and doing the mundane activities that fit that character- football, sports section, a beer, the whole deal.

Kurt sits up then and crosses his leg on the mattress. He looks nervous for some reason, cheeks blushing red and biting his lower lip that for some reason comes across as so attractive in Blaines eyes. He knew it was coming before it did, the guilt in the pit of his stomach falling into a cold abyss. He wondered if he would ever stop feeling guilty for doing what he was doing- pretending, to be closer to the boy- but what was more confusing is that he enjoyed it, just as much as how guilty it felt. Was this the norm of doing something wrong? The rush, the adrenaline? Or was it something much more than just excitement?

"Youre the first boy Ive ever introduced to my father. Thats a big deal," grins Kurt, before he leans forward and catches Blaines lips. He loses himself for that short second, and he found this to be a constant occurrence when the he kisses Kurt. For the seconds that linger as their lips meet, everything is obliterated into ash and it felt real, until they part and the dreadful reminder settles back. "Ive been wanting to kiss you all day."

"Have you?" says Blaine, blushing slightly. His subconscious wanted to respond the same thing, but he knew otherwise. No matter how true it was, he needed to push it down. Focus, Blaine, would be his mantra throughout this mission, because a simple touch could derail that.

"Yes," says the boy. "You didnt tell me your parents were out of town."

"Didnt come up I guess," says Blaine, thanking God this actually would be something easier as compared to sharing punishing kisses with the boy. Not that Kurt was a bad kisser- he was amazing especially for someone who has never been kissed before- but every kiss sets down a grenade down to Blaines system.

"I wish I could meet them. How are they like?" ask Kurt. Throughout his years, not many people have asked about his parents because normally, people in the CIA do not have families, which is why they can go out and risk their lives on a daily basis- because they had no one waiting back home, but for some reason, this question makes him forget all of that and simply want to reminisce about his parents.

"Theyre great. My mothers a baker. She makes the best cinnamon rolls in the whole wide world, to me at least. It never really was my alarm clock that woke me up in the morning. It was always the smell of her cooking breakfast that sends me straight to the shower and down to the kitchen. Shes the kindest woman, ever, too. Donates often, actually bothers to get to know our neighbours. My dad he owns an antique shop, or at least. He says the old things are not thrash, theyre rich with history. When I was a kid, Id spend every Saturday at the store with him. He would explain to me the history of each item from jewellery, to clothes to furnitures-"

"That would explain why you excel in American History," says the boy, a smile on his face. "Go on," he encourages.

"They werent exactly- affluent or anything, you know? They didnt really get me the best toys on the shelves or whatever but the thing was, I never felt that I was missing out on anything. They were there, they were present..practically my best friends, to be honest. We did this thing where would be go to the beach every Friday evening and watch the sunset together. I think that was my favourite part of my childhood," tells Blaine, pouring himself out before he could stop himself. This was probably the first time in his life that he had let anyone see a glimpse of his childhood, and the boy didnt even make an effort to pry it out of Blaine. It just came naturally to him to share, and affect not quite ordinary people would have on Blaine.

"Sounds like you had a beautiful childhood," says Kurt, resting his hand over Blaines. Maybe he could see the way Blaines eyes had withdrew and were wandering in his past. He wondered if the sadness registered in his face, but when he realized he was vulnerable, he pulled himself together because the CIA has thought him well enough never to be vulnerable. What he did not understand was how could the boy make him drop his guard without even trying, erasing every training he got from the CIA with just the comfort of his words.

"Yeah, that was in the past of course. Things change," says Blaine, putting an end to the subject because he wondered how far he could dig through his memories until one that will actually break him. He was relieved when the boy picked up on the sudden reservation.

"Lets get started on chemistry then," says the boy as he pulls out his textbook.

For the next two hours or so, they spend working on the assignment for chemistry. It took a lot of explaining on Blaines part because chemistry science definitely was not the boys forte. He understood the fundamentals of course, but bearly. It was actually fine with Blaine, having to walk the boy through the contents. He never had the pleasure of learning simple things like this. The second he joined the CIA at a very young age, he was exposed to content much too heavy for the young mind but the Agency was careful to recruit people who were not only smart, but efficient. The things he was studying in McKinley were practically alphabets compare to what he studied during the CIA training.

Aside from that, he loved watching the boy looking all delirious. He was growing weary by the hour but he persisted on, which was a very admirable trait. He also looked adorable when his eyebrows were furrowed together, and when he catches his lower lip with his teeth. Blaine would settle it as innocent notices, but he could not admit-- every time that lower lip is caught between his teeth, all Blaine wanted to do was press his own lips on the boy. Of course, this took extraterrestrial level of resistance. Finally, when the clock strikes 11PM, Kurt sighs aloud and lies on his back.

"I can honestly die from this," says the boy. He looked drained and exhausted, and the very subtle growl from his stomach told Blaine that he must be starving.

"Youd get it soon," assures Blaine.

"If I wake up tomorrow as Albert Einstein maybe. Or my mother, but I dont have a vast knowledge on science. The only thing I know is that what I breathe in is something called O Two," says Kurt.

"Its always hard when you dont have interest in something. What do you have interest in then?" ask Blaine. The boy seems withdrawn, as if nervous to tell. He gulps hard, and very noticeable as the lump of saliva goes down his throat.

"If I tell you Id have to kill you," says Kurt, a slight playful grin on his adorable face. Beautiful feminine features constructed on that plane.

"Id take my chances," says Blaine because he knew, and the boy also knew that if it came down to either one killing the other, Blaine had a much more higher chance of killing Kurt. Not that he would ever kill Kurt of course. Just in the sense of skills, he definitely dominated.

The boy does seen uncomfortable though, as if he was afraid that let this part of him be known. Maybe this was the last segment of the bridge he hasnt crossed yet. Maybe he wasnt on the other side after all and there was still a long way to go before the boy could feel utmost comfortable sharing anything with him, and so to put the boy at ease, Blaine resolved.

"Its okay if you dont wanna tell me," says Blaine. "Youre allowed some secrets."

"Am I not an open book already?" he ask, turning over so he is lying on his stomach instead.

"Youre far from an open book, Kurt. Youre like- a vintage comic book, always sealed until one fine day maybe youll feel its okay to be out of that security plastic."

"Comic books? I would think youd use something more substantial as a metaphor," grins the boy, emitting a small laughter.

"What would you like then, Kurt?" ask Blaine as he flops on his stomach and stares straight into those unique cyan eyes that hold a take of mysteries.

"Something more substantial in the world of literature," says the boy, his eyes with a slight gleam and a shy smile. Blaine knew he was border lining the danger zone, having been so close in proximity with the boy, but he couldnt help himself.

"How about- a timeless Shakespeare book? A little confusing and hard to comprehend at the start, but when you do- its one the absolute most brilliant literature youve ever read?" says Blaine.

"Thats better," says Kurt as he leans forward and catches Blaines lips with his own. Those lips were like a portal, taking him to another place, a place of no worries whatsoever and that whatever this pretence was in this dimension, was genuine in the other, but as soon as they part, the reality sinks in and Blaine has to dreadfully remind himself that this is all false, for him. He hopes. "You have to go soon, dont you?"

"Unfortunately, yes," says Blaine, though in truth, was it really unfortunate? His moral conscience would agree, but his subconscious was screaming to stay and allowed to the boy to fly him to a different dimension, where this was not wrong.

"Sucks," sighs the boy as he lays his head on Blaines lap. He couldnt help but to begin stroking the boys hair, and though it had ton of products in it to keep its style intact, it didnt change how soft and fine it was. "I have to follow Marley and Tina to the mall tomorrow, after school. They claimed that getting a look pass me is like getting two nods from Miranda Priestly."

"Whos that?" frowns Blaine.

"That dragon lady from Devils Wears Prada. Its a great movie. Havent you watched it?" ask the boy as if Blaine was lagging in the fundamentals of life.

"Havent had the time I guess," vaguely tells Blaine because he couldnt possibly tell the boy that as he was munching on salty popcorns, fixed in front of a movie screen screening the latest box office shows, he was difusing bombs in the freaking White House.

"Well, well watch it together soon," assures the boy and somehow, even that small gesture made the heat rush in his cheeks. He never truly had something like this- a friend, at least. In the Agency, most of the operatives will either kill you and kidnap and hide you away to get the missions from you, which is odd considering the CIAs main goal is to protect the country from any form of threat. Instead, the real threat can sometimes lie within the agency itself.

"Deal," smiles Blaine as he leans forward and plants a conservative kiss on the boys forehead. He could do that, right? It wasnt crossing boundaries or anything of the sort. It was an innocent gesture, but he had to tell himself that in order to get through this mission. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," nonchalantly responds the boy.

"Your mother was a scientist, right? You told me," says Blaine, inching towards the topic because who knew how the boy would react, though for some reason he felt as though he had a claming affect on the boy.

"Yeah," responds the boy, unsuspecting which is like a gem to Blaine.

"Did she ever worked on projects or anything like that, or was she a professor and taught a bunch of kids in a lecture?" ask Blaine. He did not understand what gave him the courage to ask, because he has been creeping around, but he couldnt waste any more time. He needed a lead, and if he could convey his words in an innocent manner, maybe he could just get it out of the boy.

"A scientist. A research scientist. She spent most of her time in the lab, doing test and whatever. I think she was working on something, but she never told me anything about it. Maybe my dad, but not me. When she comes home, and if she does have to do some work, shed do it in her office upstairs. Why do you ask?" tells the boy. So there were two possible leads after all. Burt, and the enigmatic, mysterious office he never got to enter because there wasnt enough time before. He needed to gain entry, but how?

"Just curious, I guess. I dont know many scientist in my life and was just wondering what kind of jobs scientist do on a daily basis," shrugs Blaine, hoping the boy would take his words for it and not suspect anything and when the boy nods, she discreetly heaves a sigh of relief. "I better go, and you better get some rest."

"If I seem exhausted, its only because you forced chemistry knowledge in my brain," teases the boy as they get to their feet and Blaine hurries all his books into his satchel. He glances up at the ceiling light and still notices the hint of the sticky camera he placed still untouched.

They emerge back up to the house and walks to the living room, where the television is still turned on and some stupid shampoo commercial is taking screen, but Kurts father is long gone, his mouthed open with a slight drool on the corners of his lips, dead in slumber. He really did embody a suburban father.

"Ill see you tomorrow?" ask Kurt, his head titled slight, as he grabs hold of the door knob but never opening it yet, as if he dreaded the time they would have to part, which to be honest, even Blaine was not too fond off.

"Yes, definitely," smiles Blaine. He leans forward and plants an innocent kiss instead on the boys cheek, in which he caves and blushes like the adorable person he is. No affection was followed afters, but even that virtuous kiss was as sensual as..whatever.

Blaine arrives back to the CIA temporary headquarters. He walks through the threshold and Carl is the first to greet his presence, which is always a delight with his daily interrogations and reminding Blaine of their deadline. He understood it was Carls job to make sure they were on course. In terms of sailing, that they would dock in time, but Blaine couldnt be bothered to endure it tonight because he had one thing on his mind, and one thing only. After allowed himself to be just a little vulnerable earlier tonight, with telling the boy about his parents-- in every detail he could remember, he felt a desperate sense of urge to see them, and tonight..he would allow himself to.

He strides into the room, shuts the door behind him, ensuring to lock it before he climbed up to the top bunk, ensuring maximised discretion. It was definitely beyond CIA rules to do this, because once you were declared there was no turning back, but just this once, much like everything else in this mission, he would slip pass those rules, risk it because he needed to burst the huge bubble forming inside himself, threatening to burst and kill him in its wake. Just this once, he would allow himself to see them, before he closed the chest, locked and chained it and swore never to look back.

Pulling out his phone with trembling fingers, Blaine scans through the selection of sticky cameras to view from. He comes to one, labelled Private with an icon of a lock beside it, but he keyed in the password anyway despite the words of caution. He wasnt sure if the agency was monitoring his phone they he was doing this, nor did he care because at this moment, he wouldnt care. The small inch screen comes to life, and the camera first shows a picture of a small little cabin house. The panels are wooden, but the chimney is a black coloured brick with smoke coming out from it. The lights were turned on, but nobody is outside, probably because it was night time as well. He scrolls to the next camera, and it shows the front porch, with the dim and flickering orange light swaying therapeutically in the slight breeze.

How he miss the front porch of which he would sit and watch the sunset, with the aroma of dinner fleeting from the house and his father reading one of his favourite books beside him on the small sofa placed outside for peace and tranquillity. Blaine scrolls to the next screen and it shows the living room now. It is small and tight, but very comforting. The couch is still its old self with the cloths stitched to cover the flaw. It was always a battle between his parents to toss it to the curb because his mother hated it, but his father would go on and on about the sentimentality of it. His father always won of course, but memories will always trump anything new.

There were only four cameras placed around the house. He knew because he had assigned somebody to do it, somebody with no attachment to the CIA whatsoever, because this was strictly prohibited in the eyes of the Agency. Not even frowned upon, but strictly prohibited. The next screen would hold what might break him, but he chose to go onward and scrolled to the next screen, and small delighted gasp escaping from him

The camera only showed the dining table, and there were two people seated on it, one across the other. The woman, who has dark hair tied in a messy bun, which square shaped spectacles sitting on the crook of her nose, looks compelled as she tries to sew what looks to be a floral dress. Though Blaines mother was a genius baker, sewing was one of her passions as well. Simply looking at how his mother has grown, still the same but with frown lines her and there on her face makes him smile. The man, sitting across from the woman is holding a napkin with a squirt tube of polishing gel, looks equally in a trance as he cleans some vintage looking coins. He was dark hair as well, though as Blaine remembered clearly, a lighter shade of brown as compared to the woman. He has a receding hairline, but that only spoke volumes of his age. This was his fathers natural state in the house. Both Blaines parents looked peaceful as they went on with their activities, but how he long to be seated on that one empty chair that used to be his. There was always only three chairs placed at the dining table, except when there were guest and they would pull out more chairs from the basement.

But that was where he used to sat while his parents went about their things, listening to him talk, or sing, or sometimes even allowed Blaine to watch them, or participate even. That was his chair, and that was where he should be sitting. A part of him was expecting a little boy, with hazel eyes to bounce into the kitchen and join those two, but the boy never came, but the chair still sat there, as if time hadnt passed at all.

-------------------

"Nothing fits me!" exclaims Marley as she stumbles out of the dressing room, a look cross from sorrow and anguish on her pretty face. Her long raven hair was practically a blazing trail as he walks out. "I feel like I weigh a ton!"

"Are you crazy?" ask Kurt as he raises at an eyebrow at the girl who has such a slender body, practically no chest at all with long spidery legs. He is donned in a lilac dress that touches the door, sleeveless and with a trail of sequence on the lining of the chest. She looks absolutely stunning. "You might even need to singe the waist a little! Marley, youre fine, trust me. You look gorgeous in that dress."

"Really? I was thinking something more navy but I really like how soft it feels," says the girl, running her fingers down the skirt to feel its texture.

"Honey, fashion is not about comfortability. Its about looking stunning. Lets see you in this," tells Kurt as he picks up a knee length ocean blue dress with a corseted top that no doubt will hug the thin girl like fur on a bear.

It had been a dreadful day in school. They had only started with the final exams, with a few subjects to go. It was scary to know graduation was amidst them. Kurt had always long for the day he would be able to kiss principal Sylvester, the jocks and cheerleaders and the hallowed hallways goodbye but something was making him dread the day. Maybe its because he actually has sort-of friends now, or maybe its because leaving his father would be painful, college applications were to be submitted by the end of this week, and the simple thought scared him, but the real reason he was not as excited for graduation was because of Lance.

Never in his life did Kurt ever think he would find somebody who meant a lot to him, in a sense of romance. He never had to consider either losing a relationship, or taking it to long distance, but now he had to. Did he want to let go of Lance? Absolutely not, but what about the boy itself? Was he dreading to let Kurt go as well, or was he longing for the day? He hoped not the latter, though he couldnt be sure. He definitely needed to have a conversation with him soon, and that was something he wasnt excited about.

Still, for right now- everything just felt normal. A feeling that used to be abstract to him. He was at the mall, with friends, giving them opinions on their prom dresses, he had a boyfriend..that lonely boy who sat quietly in his room, sketching fashion illustrations seemed lost in a distant now, and though he would almost remember how bad it felt to be lonely to make him more humble and appreciative, he couldnt help but to love his life right now. He doubted anything could go wrong, at least, anything in his control.

"Okay, how about this?" ask Tina, the Asian girl, as she steps out in a neon yellow dress, with a sickly green coloured sleeves. She looked pretty ecstatic for someone who is dressed like a rotten banana.

"Try something else. Something teal. It would bring out your hair colour, make it look more expensive," tells Kurt, in which Tina glares at him but she knew very well that her hair color came from a box, and so she retreats back into the dressing room.

After visiting as many department stores as their legs could carry them, the three finally settled on having some coffee to rejuvenate them, before they went on with their shopping spree. Kurt was glad he was here. Maybe he had judge McKinleys population too quickly. These girls werent that bad, but the Asian girl did irk him from time to time. The things spilling out of her mouth were sometimes a little self-centric Kurt had to fight the urge to slap the sushi out of her.

"I need the perfect dress! It was to look both elegant and sultry, innocent, yet slutty. The librarian, and the stripper-" says Marley as she takes a sip of her chocolate frappe.

"A stripper? Why dont you just slip into a G-string with fishnets then?" jokes Kurt. "Whos the guy?"

Marley blushes crimson all of a sudden. Kurt knew that look. It was a look he would get every time he was even in close proximity with Lance, or when he kissed Lance. Her cheeks were practically blazing until he summoned her dignity and began talking. "Ryder Lynn."

"That guy in the hockey team?" shrieks Tina. "Hes so hot!"

"I have no idea who is that," says Kurt, because hockey players in the school were neutral. They werent geeks, no were they part of the upper hierarchy. They were average, and though Kurt would never in his life wish to be a hockey player, he does wish he had their stance in the school ground. Neutral people did not get slushied, nor were they hated. They were just...neutral.

"Hes the guy I got paired up with for chemistry assignments. We kinda bonded, and he asked if I would go with him and obviously I died," tells Marley, not bothering to by coy. It made Kurt wonder, did everybody bond with their chemistry partners the way Marley and Ryder, and Kurt and Lance did? "He was cute, being all shy about it and asking me if I was going with anyone and whatnot, until he just sort of shouted it at my face."

"He shouted asking if you would go to prom with him?" frowns Kurt. Love truly is questionable. "What about you, Tina?"

"Im going with Artie. I figured with his chair, maybe well get sympathy votes and be crowned king and queen," says the girl, as if there was nothing even remotely reductive and self-centric about what she said. Again, Kurt fought the urge to slap the shit out of her.

"Thats- fortunate," says Marley, obviously at a lost for words too. "Kurt, what about you? Any special guy in your life?"

He wanted to scream on the rooftops that yes, yes he did have a guy in his life, a very sweet, attentive, compassionate and witty guy who professed his feelings first, not the other way around. He wanted to scream that yes he had a guy he could kiss and hold hands with and spend the night flirting with each other in his room during study time, but he knew otherwise. Discretion, because he wasnt sure if the boy was comfortable about people knowing about their relationship.

"I see that look in your eyes," speculates Marley, a suspicious gleam in her blue optics. "There is a guy and youre going to tell us, and Ill treat you some cheese cake."

It was definitely odd that they werent judging him, or spraying him with Holy water and asking him to repent. That was his first expectation when he had told them he was gay- or rather, them just assuming. It wasnt as if Kurt ever hid it, but he barely knew these girls until Blaines fight club, but it seems as though they knew about him long before they got together.

"Yeah Kurt, tell us!" urges the self-centric, reductive Asian girl.

Though Kurt knew he did not want to tell anyone of their relationship, not yet at least, he did wanted to flaunt just a little but. It was rare he got the opportunity at all, but maybe he could be discreet and coy and not say that it was Lance. After all, how will their trust on Lance be in terms of their fighting lessons if Kurt had told them? But the boy did say he wasnt hiding in the closet, then again he never publicly announced. Maybe he really did stay true to his slogan in life, to not put labels on anything or anyone.

"Well, now that youve asked, yes- there is somebody. Somebody cute, smart, funny, makes me feel good, but I wont tell you his name," says Kurt, in which the girls squeal in excitement.

"Does he go to our school? So far youre the only gay kid out of the closet," says Tina.

"I wont tell you that either," cheekily smiles Kurt. Girls are desperate for gossip because the way these two were acting all aggravated and desperate to know it was, hungry for just the little bit of irrelevant information was crazy. He never understood the minds of girls, and probably nobody does.

"Okay, answer one question at least?" urges Marley, as if answering this question would be like taking cocaine for her drug addict brain. "Is he taking you to prom?"

The question struck a cord in his brain. Theyve never discussed it before. They only things they do talk about was general topics, but not about prom. Would he even go to something so cliché and sappy like prom? He loved the decorations, and the time it takes to shop for clothes because Kurt loved shopping as much as the next gay, but prom is definitely the ultimate cliché in the book. It was sick just looking at the popular girls hanging up their Vote For Me posters. With ever step down the hallway, Quinn Fabrays stupid face haunts him.

"I dont know," honestly tells Kurt.

"Well, do you want him to take you to prom?" ask Tina.

Prom, with all the revolting clichés, was still a rite of passage for high school students. Maybe he never had the opportunity to live out those clichés, which will explain where his bitterness stemmed from, but digging into his honestly, and his secret desires, he knew the answer.

"Yes, I hope he does, and make it a night Ill never forget," smiles Kurt.