CHAPTER 17

Kurt didn't sleep well that night, his dreams plagued by entirely too vivid images from Blaine's story, enveloped in a vague sense of dread, and really, he'd rather not sleep at all. His boyfriend bloody and unconscious was not a picture he'd ever wanted to see.

The morning rose bleak and rainy, but Kurt was already up, showered and dressed down for comfort, toiling over the most elaborate recipe for fancy breakfast rolls he could find. Kneading and rolling kept him anchored in reality and safe from succumbing to the horrifying lure of the what if. With his hands busy, he could think and process without getting lost or overwhelmed by emotions. And he had plenty to think about.

He had endured his share of bullying throughout his school career. He wasn't one to whine about it, but he'd always thought that he had it hard – harder than most, especially when Karofsky's abuse had escalated. And he knew that Blaine shared at least some of the experience – it was one of the first things he'd told Kurt about himself, after all. But only now did Kurt realize how much he'd marginalized it.

Blaine's calm, simple confession back in November didn't sound like anything truly bad had happened. I let bullies chase me away, he said – which was nowhere close to I was beaten so bad I had to have brain surgery, or I almost died because someone didn't like me going to a dance with a boy. And now, kneading the dough with furious force, Kurt felt the weight of shame settle heavy in his stomach.

He should have asked instead of assuming. He should have paid more attention, cared better, noticed more. He felt dizzy just thinking how close Blaine had come to not being here now, to never being a part of Kurt's life.

But mostly, he felt like he'd failed.

They'd known each other for eight months, and during all that time Kurt had no idea that his best friend – and then boyfriend – had anxiety problems. He barely knew anything specific about his past or his family, didn't know his fears or his plans for the future besides what they'd dreamed up together. Until yesterday, Kurt hadn't even known his damn age. Blaine looked and acted more mature than most sophomores Kurt knew, but he'd always assumed it was just the way Blaine was, older than his years. He hadn't thought to ask – why would he?

He needed to get his shit together. What kind of a boyfriend was he?

Blaine just didn't talk about those things, ever – Kurt realized, washing his hands after he'd laid the rolls out on the baking sheet and left them to raise. He kept his issues and his problems close to his chest in an attempt to keep Kurt and everyone else from worrying. And that may be fine with casual friends and relative strangers in Blaine's life, but between the two of them, it couldn't be like this.

How were they supposed to be together if they didn't communicate openly? How would they survive if they ever hit a rough patch or any relationship trouble – which was bound to happen sooner or later – without really talking with each other? Something had to be done, they had to work it out.

Operation: Talk To Me started that afternoon.

It was still raining, so they were in Kurt's room (door open, family downstairs). Kurt was going through his closet, trying on clothes and weeding out those that didn't fit anymore after his recent growth spurt, while Blaine sat cross-legged on the bed, ogling him shamelessly and offering opinions that were mostly useless but very good for Kurt's ego. It felt nice, the easy companionship with a promise of a light make-out later, before Kurt's dad inevitably looked in on them – but Kurt had plans.

"What happened to your friend? After Sadie Hawkins?"

The adoring smile faded on Blaine's face.

"Andy? I... don't really know." Kurt looked at him alarmed, and Blaine rushed to correct. "I mean, he's fine, I just never talked to him again. I tried calling him a month after the dance, but he'd already changed his number. He didn't answer my emails, and deleted his Facebook account. I saw him once at the mall last summer. He was with a girl, holding hands, and when he noticed me, he turned away and hid in the closest store. Victoria's Secret, incidentally."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Blaine shrugged. "It's okay. It's not like we were best friends, and I guess everyone has their way of dealing with stuff. It stung back then, but I'm fine."

Kurt wondered just how many things Blaine made himself to be fine with.

"Okay, another thing – your mom said something about me wanting to have you at my school. What was that about? When have I ever done anything to make you come to McKinley? I mean, you pick me up sometimes, or drop by for a performance, but I'm not forcing you, am I?"

Suddenly, Blaine couldn't meet his eyes, his cheeks turning pink. "No, that's... something else entirely. I may have... ah... told my parents that I want to transfer. To your school."

Kurt's eyes grew wide. "You did what? When?"

"Um. A few weeks after you transferred back? It didn't work, obviously. And I already told my mom it wasn't your idea, I'm sorry she yelled at you."

Kurt waved his hand dismissively, still stunned. "It's okay. But... you wanted to transfer to be with me? Really?"

Blaine nodded, the tips of his ears bright red now. "Yeah."

"But what about Dalton? And the Warblers?"

Blaine shrugged and looked away. "Dalton isn't the same without you. Nothing is the same. Not even the Warblers."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. His instincts were tingling. "What aren't you telling me?"

"They've been... pretty cold towards me lately. At least some of them." Blaine admitted quietly. "There might have been a discussion about not having one main lead next year, too, about preferential treatment and some such. But it's not just that, Kurt, it's not the reason – I just... I think I'm ready to brave public school again. With you. Except my parents don't agree, so–"

"Blaine." It was overwhelming, the amount of love Kurt felt for this boy, so trusting and ready to uproot his whole life, leave his safe haven to be with him. He couldn't find the words, not yet, so he just flew into Blaine's arms and let his lips speak in feverish presses until the sound of a door slamming shut downstairs broke them apart. Panting and flushed, they moved away from each other, glancing guiltily at the open door and straightening their clothes.

"Um, so... any more questions?" Blaine flashed him a bashful smile, and oh, Kurt just wanted to kiss him again – kiss him forever, if only they could find some place to be really alone–

He cleared his throat.

"Why didn't you tell me we are the same age?"

It wasn't an accusation, Kurt made sure not to make it sound like one. Still, Blaine looked uncomfortable as he answered.

"You never asked."

"How could I–" Kurt could feel his voice raising – exasperation, not anger, but he tamped it down quickly anyway. "Blaine, I shouldn't have to ask. I don't want to have to ask, I want us to talk about things, big things and little things and difficult things, and what we feel and why. It's important. I want to know when you have trouble with your parents, or your anxiety, or anything. Please don't make me guess. I love you, I care."

"But it's embarrassing." Blaine pulled his knees up to his chest. "I don't want you to look at me like I'm weak or needy or like I have... issues. I can be strong for you."

Kurt knelt on the bed and put his hand on Blaine's leg. "You are strong. You are also human. So am I. We both have our weaker moments. You've seen mine more than once, does it mean you see me as weak?"

"God no, Kurt–"

"See? I don't, either – you're my amazing, brave boyfriend, and I want to know all the sides of you. It doesn't make me think any less of you when you open up, it just makes me love you more. I have to know when you need me, and what you need. Please, we have to put on enough fronts for the rest of the world, don't you think? Let's not put up walls between us, too."

Blaine was looking at him with his big puppy eyes, so earnest and soft. "Okay. I'll try, I promise. But... I'm not used to it, sharing my problems, so you may need to remind me sometimes?"

"I can do that." Kurt's hand slid under Blaine's t-shirt and over to his hipbone. "Thank you."

So for the next few weeks, they talked – really talked, about everything: their pasts and families, early crushes and childhood memories, phobias and quirks and medical facts ("You never know when we might need to know each other's blood type, or allergies." Kurt said when Blaine looked at him funny. "I hope we never will, but I'd rather be prepared."). When Blaine left for a week-long stint at Six Flags where he subbed for their regular entertainer, they talked on the phone for hours every night, staving off the separation sickness and the longing. And when they were finally back together, they still talked, not just because it felt good, but because they could hardly do the other things they so desperately wanted.

It was ridiculous how little time alone they could get. For the last few weeks of school Kurt had been fantasizing about the freedom that summer would bring – long hours together every day in empty houses while their parents worked. But the reality turned out to be quite different.

They did have a lot of time together, which was amazing, but empty houses? Not so much. There were always people anywhere they ended up. Carole worked shifts at the hospital, so she was often home during the day even when Kurt's dad wasn't. Finn was always around, too, and where there was Finn, there was usually also Rachel, or Puck, or any number of the Glee guys, and it was noisy and fun, but not exactly what the two of them hoped for. At Blaine's house they could close the door at least, but his mom didn't work and was always around, even if she wasn't quite so hostile anymore, so it only meant they could make out without straining their ears for steps on the stairs.

Going any further under these circumstances was out of the question – neither of them was comfortable with clothes coming off when there were other people in the house, and no matter how desperate they were, walking around with drying come in their pants, especially when interacting with the other's family, was a prospect that helped them cool off more than once.

But it wasn't easy. Hormones simmering in the summer heat, clothes that revealed more than they covered, kisses that ignited the want instead of sating it even a fraction – by the last week of July, Kurt was a hot mess, almost ready to forget about the risk and find a quiet spot to get some privacy in a car, if nothing else worked. Something had to change and soon, or he would surely explode.

***

"Blaine... please tell me you two are being safe at least."

Blaine glanced up at his mom from the passenger's seat. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her face set in grim determination, but at least she was talking to him. Apart from the "Get dressed, we're going to get groceries " earlier, this was the first time she had actually spoken to him since she'd walked in on him saying goodbye to Kurt last night. Pressed against the front door. With Blaine's hands high under Kurt's shirt (he was just reaching to stroke his mark, honestly) and his thigh kind of... slotted between Kurt's legs (but only for a second). And okay, there might have been that little moan he'd made into their kiss, but–

Really, she'd chosen the worst possible moment to come in from the backyard.

To her credit, she'd left immediately. But then she was cold and silent all evening, refusing to listen to Blaine when he tried – awkwardly – to explain, and Kurt was frantic on the phone later that night, convinced that he could never, ever show his face at Blaine's house again, and it was all a terrible mess.

And now this. Blaine shook his head a little, confused.

"Of course we are safe. It's not like we wander around the bad parts of town or anything. We don't go out late at night, we don't have suspicious friends or–"

"Blaine." She still wasn't looking at him, her eyes set firmly on the road, but even her profile betrayed discomfort. "That's not what I mean. Are you... do you use condoms?"

Air escaped from Blaine's lungs as if he'd been punched. Oh. He could feel his face burn with a furious blush when he finally found his voice.

"Well, I'm sure we will one day, but mom, we've only been together four months, it's a long way until we need condoms."

Where did that question even come from? Did she really think they'd been having sex behind the closed door to Blaine's room all that time? Sure, they'd been doing things, but apart from that one hurried repeat of prom night back at Kurt's house (after which Blaine was unable to look Burt in the eye for a week), and Kurt's hand one glorious, unforgettable day two weeks ago when Blaine's mom had gone out to the store for ten minutes, they hadn't moved past make-outs, no matter how much they wanted.

And even if they had the chance, neither of them was ready to go that far, not anytime soon.

His mom looked at him fully for the first time since last night. Luckily, the road in front of them was empty.

"Oh."

That was it. No more comments, and in the store she acted as if nothing had happened, asking him about dinner preferences and ice cream flavors, and even buying his favorite fancy coffee blend, and Blaine breathed out a relieved sigh. The drop in tension was palpable. Now he could go to Kurt's and assure him that he didn't have to move to Alaska to avoid meeting his mom ever again.

But the biggest surprise came the next morning, when Blaine was sitting at the kitchen table, sleepily buttering his toast. His father was already at the office, and his mom came in, clicking her high heels, light summer jacket on and her keys in hand. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Morning. Is Kurt coming over today?"

Blaine frowned. "Maybe? I don't know yet, why?" He said cautiously. They hadn't decided what they would do this afternoon when Kurt was done with his shift at the garage, both still a little apprehensive after the other day.

"Because I'm going to dinner with your father tonight after the spa, but if you boys want to eat in, there's stew in the fridge. We should be back around ten." She smiled at his bewildered face and added softly. "I guess I should trust you a little more. Just... be smart, okay?"

She left with a kiss to Blaine's forehead, leaving him with an open mouth and a suspicious feeling he must be still dreaming.

Kurt did come over that afternoon, of course. There was no way they could pass up the opportunity to be completely, perfectly alone for the whole... oh, six hours.

It felt unreal, a dream come true, and now that they were here, he was at a loss for a moment – so many possibilities, so much time, just for them, undisturbed. Blaine didn't know where to start, his hands flailing a little as he stood in the middle of his room, the door closed and the whole house empty and quiet around them.

Thankfully, he had Kurt there – Kurt, who simply took him by the hand and led him to the bed, and they fell into each other like they'd done so many times before, kissing and touching and there. Except this time they didn't have to stop when the kisses turned needy and fierce, didn't have to swallow their moans when Kurt rolled onto his back, pulling Blaine on top of him, their hips pressing together. He could freely explore the sensitive skin on Kurt's neck without worrying that the breathless whimpers his tongue and teeth evoked would be heard through the door.

And most importantly, they could undress each other, as slowly and as far as they wanted.

They hadn't seen each other naked yet – and once they passed the relatively familiar boundary of shirtlessness, once they touched and kissed every inch of skin they could reach, returning to their marks over and over again, there was a pause. They looked at each other, flushed and expectant, on the precipice of new territory. Blaine stroked his finger along the waistband of Kurt's jeans, raising goosebumps on his stomach.

"May I?"

Kurt nodded, his eyes wide and never leaving Blaine's. The belt, the button, the slow slide of the zipper. Kurt's hips raised to let him slide the pants down. And then there he was, naked save for the black boxer briefs hugging him so perfectly, enveloping the bulge of his erection that Blaine had felt before but never saw like this, close and clear and unmistakable. He did this. He made Kurt feel this way, arch his hips upward, straining for contact when he stroked his thigh.

"God, Blaine. You too, please, now."

It was a bit of a surprise how self-conscious he felt pulling off his pants, considering that Kurt had seen him without them already, after the prom. But the lights had been off then and they'd been in bed most of the time, and now Kurt's eyes were huge and dark and trained on him, his tongue flicking out unconsciously to lick his lips. Blaine blushed his way through the process, sliding off the bed to step out of his pants.

He was just about to get back to his boyfriend, the acres of milky skin begging him to touch, when Kurt jumped off the bed. The press of his almost naked body made Blaine sway on his feet, and then Kurt's hands were smoothing down his back until his thumbs dipped just under the waistband of Blaine's red briefs, stealing his breath away.

"Can I... underwear, too? Or is it too much?"

Blaine drew a sharp breath. Definitely not too much, he just wanted skin, no layers left between them. He braced his palms on Kurt's hips and nodded.

"Can I take yours off, too?"

"Yes."

Kurt was flushed pink and breathing fast, his hands warm as they slid down to Blaine's ass, and the next moment they were both naked – completely bare against each other, kissing and moaning and there were hands everywhere and so much skin and thank god the bed was just there because Blaine was fairly certain he would just fold down to the floor otherwise, and he wouldn't even care as long as Kurt was there with him.

He had thought about this moment before, imagined it dozens of times – all the options that opened with the more that they both wanted. Handjobs. Blowjobs. Mutual masturbation. Grinding together until they came. Rimming if they got bold. He was a walking, dreaming encyclopedia of sex acts that could happen – that had happened in his fantasies so many times Kurt would probably think he was a pervert if he knew.

But now, tangled with Kurt on his bed, Blaine didn't think of any of those. All that mattered was how perfectly close they were without any clothes between them, Kurt hot and soft-over-hard, and so so beautiful Blaine's heart was breaking a little, and his hands wanted to learn every inch of that skin, everywhere. The warm hollow behind Kurt's knee, the planes of his back, the tickly sides of his ribs. The vulnerable crease of his thigh. His cock, thick and solid and pink, that Blaine only had a chance to glance at before Kurt rolled them and pulled him into his arms. Because Kurt wanted to touch him too, just as much, it seemed, and they both wanted to kiss all through this frenzy of skin and sensations. Never stop kissing.

Kurt coming was a surprise – a strangled moan and a bite to Blaine's lip, and the pulsing wet heat against his thigh. Blaine's hand had just slid down to Kurt's ass, his fingers skimming along the cleft, and he only had time to realize how close he was himself before his hips were bucking into Kurt's abdomen, his back arching and whoa, Kurt's skin was like silk, hot, firm silk with just enough friction from the soft hair running down his belly, and hey, what a brilliant idea not to do this with anyone around because Blaine had not known how loud he could apparently get. 

And then they were catching their breath and smiling, and touching – always touching, hands and foreheads and tangled legs, and it wasn't weird or embarrassing in the slightest like Blaine had feared the aftermath might be. It was hot in the room so they stayed on top of the sheets, unabashedly naked, and the quick cleanup with the tissues was enough for now because the shower, though tempting, was too far away in their sated, loose state. Kurt rolled them over so that he could lie with his head on Blaine's shoulder, tracing the brown letters of his own name with his fingertip until the delicious tingling made Blaine stir and fill again, and then Kurt's curious fingertips moved, exploring and enticing.

Slower, less desperate now, they fell into each other again.

"Don't you think we could tell your parents about the marks now that they are more or less okay with us?"

They were sitting at the edge of the swimming pool at the back of Blaine's house, their feet lazily treading water in a vain attempt to combat the early August heat. It was the weekend and both of Blaine's parents were around, so actually dipping into the pool was out of the question – or it was for Kurt at least. Swimming in his shirt would look weird and he had no way of going shirtless without revealing the mark under his collarbone, all too obvious in the bright sun. Blaine was being a good boyfriend and suffering along even though the name on his hip was easier to hide if he simply hiked up his swimming trunks.

He startled at the question and glanced guiltily at Kurt.

"No. I'm sorry, I just don't want to stir the pot. I'm afraid if I give them this to accept on top of everything else right now, it will be too much. They both hate all kinds of mysteries, and this is still new and weird and something they've never even heard of. I don't think they would just take it at face value like your parents did."

Kurt nodded, looking intently at the water. "What if you snuck them an article or two to read? It's not some mumbo jumbo after all, scientists are working on it, so there should be some kind of development soon."

Blaine bit his lip, torn between giving Kurt anything he wanted and holding onto this new and wonderful peace treaty between him and his parents.

"It won't help. Not unless everyone has those, unless it's a normal thing. Otherwise I'll be just a freak in yet another way, especially to my father. It doesn't matter that I didn't choose this, just like I didn't choose my sexuality. I stick out, and not in a way to be proud of. That's what counts. They just want me to be normal. I'm afraid they might want me to remove it or something."

Kurt gasped. "They wouldn't!"

"I don't know." Blaine shrugged. "I bet they'd make me remove the gay if it was possible."

Kurt took his hand and squeezed it in silence, and Blaine managed a small smile. Yes, things were much better now, especially with his mom. But there'd been enough harsh words in his past, enough cutting comments that still hurt to this day, to know that he was stepping on thin ice. No, the marks would have to stay a secret. His parents didn't need to know. They didn't even know that such a thing existed, and that was just fine with Blaine.

Except it was about to change very soon.