CHAPTER 10

"Bee? Get up sleepyhead, breakfast is ready."

The sharp knocking on the bedroom door would be enough to give a dead man a heart attack, so it was fortunate that Blaine was long awake. He'd been lying in bed, dreamy-eyed and grinning with different levels of intensity, for hours. Even with the buffer of the night behind him, he didn't trust himself, so he was waiting for the familiar soft click of the apartment door closing behind Coop. But now it seemed that his brother decided to deviate from his usual Saturday routine of going to work "just for a couple of hours" in the morning.

Oh well, Blaine would have to mind his mouth and pretend not to be crazily, ridiculously in love, that's all. He could do this, he wasn't in his school's theater club just for credits, after all. And he didn't want to get Kurt – well, both of them – in trouble, so that was the best motivation of all.

"Give me five minutes," he called out. He needed a moment to get in character, at least.

"Oh come on, it's just me, you don't have to get all presentable. We're having an Anderson Brothers Lazy Weekend Extravaganza here. PJs and male bonding on the menu. Come out."

"Okay, okay. I'll be right there."

Cooper sounded way too enthusiastic for it to bode well, but Blaine knew better than to argue. True, all he wanted was to see Kurt as soon as humanly possible without waking him up and earning the Glare of Doom, but he couldn't just dismiss Coop's plans. Especially when he'd normally jump at the chance to spend more time with his brother without his job getting in the way for once.

He knew that by PJs Cooper meant "just enough to cover the naughty bits", but he pulled on his old Batman pants and a t-shirt anyway. Somehow the thought of being half-naked with his brother in the room felt less natural now than it had ten years ago.

There was proper breakfast on the table when Blaine got to the kitchen, complete with eggs, bacon, a heap of toast and a pot of fresh coffee. Cooper grinned, already seated in his usual spot.

"So tell me about last night. How was the play, and the party? You looked pretty happy when you came home."

Oh, okay. The play was a safe territory where Blaine could meander for hours. The party? Not so much. His enthusiasm unleashed, he started talking between bites of food.

"It was spectacular! The play was breathtaking; the music, the actors, the costumes – I've seen rehearsals, but it really feels different when seen properly, as a finished product, you know?" Sure, he'd been distracted for most of it – but the atmosphere was definitely magical.

"You saw rehearsals?"

"Yeah, I told you, remember? Kurt got me a pass so I could go to the theater and observe whenever I wanted."

Cooper nodded. "Oh, right, you might have mentioned something. I'm glad you two clicked together so well." Blaine almost choked on his coffee before Coop finished. "I'd be worried with you being alone all the time if he didn't agree to keep an eye on you. Kurt's a good guy."

"He really is." God, if Cooper only knew... It was nearly impossible to keep his face neutral, but Blaine couldn't resist asking from behind his coffee cup. "I don't get why he's single. I mean, as much as I can tell, he should be quite a catch, right? Handsome, nice, talented –" He actually bit his tongue not to let the avalanche of other adjectives out.

Coop's smile disappeared as he shook his head. "He is a catch, he just doesn't want to be caught. Kurt is... you could say he's been burned, time and time again. Used, cheated on, dumped. After James broke up their engagement... I'd never seen Kurt so broken before, Bee. He seemed like he'd shatter with the slightest touch. And then his dad's surgery on top of that. He was gone for a month, staying with his family, and when he came back, he was... different. More guarded, less emotional. I guess it will take a hell of a guy to break through his walls and get his trust now."

Suddenly choked up, Blaine searched blindly for something to say without letting out too much. Distraction. Right.

"How about you? You're not half bad either and yet I haven't seen you with a girl since I came here. Or is that what all the extra time at work really is?"

Cooper laughed but it sounded off somehow. He took his time finishing up his eggs before he answered.

"Nah, it's just work. I'm not sure I'm a long-time relationship kind of guy."

Blaine frowned.

"Really? But it must be lonely, all by yourself. You can't just work all the time, it's not healthy, you know?"

Coop snorted mirthlessly and stood up to put dishes in the sink.

"Shut up and come watch Die Hard with me before I'm forced to use the you're too young to understand it argument."

They were on the fourth movie and Blaine definitely felt lazy now, full of pizza and popcorn and coke, and resigned to not seeing Kurt until Monday, when Cooper's phone chirped. Used to his brother's long business conversations at all hours, Blaine took the opportunity for a bathroom-and-text break (I wish I could drop by to thank you for last night, but Cooper is keeping me chained to John McClane. Help?). By the time he got a response (Rescue mission initiated. Brace for impact.) and came back into the room, Cooper had finished talking and was waiting with a remote in his hand.

"We're going out for karaoke with the guys later," he announced and pressed play.

"Wait, what?" Blaine took the remote from him and stopped the movie again.

"Karaoke bar. Tonight. Sebastian called, he wants to go sing and drink, and Kurt's in, so we're joining them. Obviously, you won't drink. Much. Unless you don't want to go?"

"And miss hearing you three? No way."

"Cool. Now come on, unpause. This is the best scene."

The bar – one that Cooper and his friends frequented regularly, apparently – was dimly lit and crowded on Saturday night, but Blaine saw Kurt immediately, as if he was illuminated by an invisible spotlight. His heart skipped in a way that told him he'd have to be very careful with his glances and words tonight, when all he wanted was to take Kurt's hand and kiss him, no matter who would see it and what they may have to say about it.

Kurt didn't seem to have any problems with pretending that they weren't... dating? Boyfriends? Lovers? He greeted both him and Cooper like dear friends; there was no telltale blush on his cheeks, not the tiniest change in his eyes when he looked at Blaine. Just his usual beautiful smile – a smile that morphed into tender and knowing, and laden with emotions the second Cooper and Sebastian turned away for a moment.

It only lasted a heartbeat, that private smile brightening Kurt's face, but it was enough for Blaine to know: he wasn't the only one who enjoyed last night and itched to be closer. Just that one smile sufficed to calm down Blaine's restlessness and charm his hummingbird of a heart into serene contentment. Kurt was here. He was close, he was smiling, and – to whatever tiny degree – he was Blaine's. That was enough for tonight. They would talk and sing, and listen to other people perform, and have a good time. And soon, there would be time and space for them again, a little pocket of existence where they could be honest and open together. He could wait.

The bar seemed to be really popular ("The widest selection of songs in town," Kurt explained. "All kinds, that's why we come here.") and soon the karaoke was going full force, with people coming and going, voices and songs and vocal skills varying widely. The four of them were drinking and chatting, not yet ready to join the fun – Coop even bought a beer for Blaine ("Just one and if you tell our parents I let you drink I'll deny everything").

Soon Sebastian rubbed his hands together, though, and smirked. "Let's start this show."

The moment he stood and moved towards the stage, tall and skinny and kind of intimidating even out of his designer suit, Kurt leaned over to Blaine. "We're sort of known here, the three of us. Most of these people are regulars and... you'll see."

Blaine turned to the stage with increased interest.

He recognized the song instantly and watched with amazement as the man he learned to associate with slightly contemptuous grins, snark and brutal honesty did a brilliant rendition of Michael Jackson's Bad, complete with every exhale of a sound, his hips snapping and circling, his voice strong and clear. Wow. Clearly Coop only befriended talented people.

Speaking of which, his brother was next to claim the mic. Blaine had listened to him and sung with him countless times when he was a child, but now it felt different, with the perspective that time and distance had given him. He could really appreciate now, through older ears – a musician's ears – how effortlessly good Cooper was while rocking Aerosmith's old classic, Cryin', of all things. How easily he pulled the audience in, people swaying and singing with him, all eyes trained on him.

Suddenly, as if a forgotten drawer snapped open, Blaine remembered how back in high school, before he moved out and went to college, Coop had dreamed of being an actor, a singer, a famous star. How he'd rehearsed his dance moves in front of the big mirror in their parents' huge closet when he'd thought no one saw him. Blaine wondered now just how big those dreams had been; how much it had taken to bury them and go into finance instead, using the analytical talents their father always praised Cooper for. How many of his brother's obvious daddy issues dated back to that period of loud conversations Blaine had understood little of? Back then, he'd been bored with all the arguments, and just wanted his big brother to play with him.

He'd have to ask him. Not tonight, though.

Now, Cooper was back, sweaty and exhilarated, promising Blaine to perform a killer brother duet later, even as he dropped on his chair and downed the rest of his drink. And sure, Blaine would indulge him, why not. He'd never really had stage fright and the one person whose opinion he cared about in this room had already heard him sing anyway, while he played the piano in his living room.

For now, though, they left the stage for other people, chatting about Coop's promotion and Kurt's musical, and it felt good. Blaine felt good – relaxed and accepted here, where he wasn't labeled or compared to other people's standards. Where he could be shamelessly, unapologetically himself.

The beer, even though sipped slowly, was affecting him already; creating a gentle, pleasant buzz and making the world a happy, amusing place. The other three were getting looser too, louder and giggly, and then Kurt was up with a mischievous grin, Cooper and Sebastian cheering him on.

"Have you heard our gay diva yet?" Sebastian's voice was close to Blaine's ear all of a sudden, startling him out of his reverie as he watched Kurt's ass in his tight, tight jeans. Blaine shook his head and the man chuckled. "Oh, this is going to be grand. Hold onto your pants, baby Anderson."

The music started and Blaine was sure there had to be a mistake because there was no way anyone would attempt this song at a karaoke bar – not just like that, without warming up, not in the original key and surely not a man. He looked around – half the crowd seemed to share his doubts, the other half waited expectantly, excitedly even.

And then Kurt sang.

[share my life, take me for what I am]

Every note pure and perfect, shooting right to Blaine's heart, his soul, until there was nothing else there, no bar, no people, no world, just Kurt, Kurt, Kurt...

[I don't really need to look very much further
 I don't want to have to go where you don't follow]

Kurt's eyes were closed, his hands moving gently with the music as he focused on the song and the song alone, and Blaine wished – prayed – to one day deserve these words to be directed to him, to earn them, to be the one to show Kurt how loved he could be, how cherished and wanted and adored.

[don't make me close one more door
I don't wanna hurt anymore
stay in my arms if you dare
or must I imagine you there]

The song wasn't for him, he knew. But right then, he promised to himself that he'd do everything in his power to be the man it could be for, one day.

***

Kurt got off the stage dazed and breathless, the standing ovation and the lights too much after the moment in dark seclusion of the song where only emotions reigned. A moment that always felt like eternity until it ended. He made his way to their table amidst praises and awed looks from strangers. His heart was pounding, excited, thrilled, and fuck, what had he been thinking to chose I Have Nothing, the lyrics resonating through him so strong that they were setting his feelings aflutter?

He hadn't been thinking, that was the problem – he'd chosen on instinct, a song he felt like singing tonight. Which was fine, his instinctive decisions were usually the best ones, but now, here, he couldn't trust himself and his instincts. He had to be rational, reasonable.

Blaine's wide eyes and half-open mouth, and Seb's amused expression as he watched the boy only confirmed what Kurt already knew. He had to control himself better – had to step back from the edge before he threw himself off it blindly, in the spur of a moment. He knew how easily he could do this, how much he would enjoy it.

Until he crashed full force onto the jagged rocks on the bottom.

No. He had too many scars and patches already; he'd shattered one time too many. He couldn't afford another try. Especially when there was no chance for a happy ending.

He didn't drink anymore that night – he kept ordering for the others, but stuck to Coke himself. It didn't keep him from having fun once he shook off the temporary dread.

He immensely enjoyed the Anderson brothers' performance of Rio. He managed to chuckle at Sebastian’s half-drunk teasing when Blaine sang, ridiculously tipsy and looking right at Kurt with hooded eyes, When I Get You Alone. The desperately hard press of the heel of his hand against his fly under the table went unnoticed, and he thanked all the gods for the fact that Cooper took his sweet time in the bathroom right then.

By the time his two very drunk friends forced him back on the stage with them to perform Friday, the song Kurt hated with all his might, he'd had enough and wanted to go home. But Sebastian insisted on one last round and Blaine, flushed and adorably silly even though he'd finished his single beer ages ago, got a crazy idea, and Kurt simply couldn't say no to him.

He just hoped his friends were already too far gone to remember.

[Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends]

Blaine's opening line curled around Kurt's heart and pulled him into the song, the headspace he could never resist even after he'd decided to pursue fashion instead of musical theater. The stage still felt like home, right and addictive, and sharing it with Blaine was just as good as he thought, hoped –feared – it would be. Their voices were perfect together, as if the song was written for them and Kurt felt himself slipping, drawing closer and closer to the tempting cliff of sweet, deadly surrender.

No, he definitely wouldn't sleep tonight.

***

Sunday dragged like molasses, like tar that hadn't been heated enough or a sticky toffee. By noon Blaine stopped looking for new similes and resigned himself to the fact that there was no escaping Cooper's company today. They were... bonding. Again. Grocery shopping, going to the movies, and making dinner together. Scratch that, attempting to make dinner together – in the end Blaine grilled the chicken and vegetables himself and sent Coop to nurse his burned hand on the sofa. It turned out his brother was a klutz when hung-over, and grumpy. Figures.

In the last few days they finally got to the point where they stopped walking around on eggshells and started talking again – or maybe for the first time, really, since the last time they were so comfortable and open around each other Blaine was still a kid. It really felt nice, having an older brother again. Still, a big part of Blaine's thoughts were somewhere else entirely the whole day. In another apartment, just a block away, to be exact.

Then Monday finally came and Blaine had to force himself not to go to Kurt's the minute the door closed behind Cooper in the early morning. He cleaned his room instead, wrote emails to a few of his Dalton friends, did laundry. When he looked at the clock again, it was barely eight. Kurt wouldn't be awake for hours. He went to the gym, came back, showered and changed. Drank coffee. Eleven.

Unable to wait any longer, Blaine went anyway. He bought a bunch of wildly colorful flowers from an old lady on a street corner; then a box of raspberries at a small produce stall. They were ripe and fresh, their color making him think of Kurt's lips when thoroughly kissed.

He slipped into Kurt's apartment quietly, barely breathing, though his heart already hammered a happy staccato beat just from being here at last.

"Blaine, is that you?"

Kurt's voice came muffled through the closed bedroom door just as Blaine toed off his shoes. "It's me. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No. Come in here."

Elbowing the door open was a bit of a challenge, his hands still full of flowers and fruit, but he managed and suddenly he was standing in the doorway looking at Kurt stretched on the bed, barely covered by a thin sheet that didn't hide anything, and it was a miracle Blaine didn't just drop everything he carried. He forced his mouth shut and his brain to work again, and shrugged, gesturing to his colorful cargo.

"Hi, I just... I'll take these to the kitchen."

"Mm, no, put them on the bedside table and come join me. I missed you."

And really, who was he to refuse when the adorably sleepy, unbearably sexy, almost certainly naked Kurt Hummel invited him to bed?

Blaine had missed him too.

***

Kurt expected... No, actually, he didn't expect anything; with the practiced openness of someone who'd had it good and bad and simply boring, and sometimes – rarely – spectacular; who'd learned that you never really know how good of a lover anyone was until you tried, he had no expectations. Still, he wanted, yearned, and he knew that Blaine had to feel similar desire. So he was pretty sure  there was an orgasm in his immediate future, one way or another.

But the slow kisses that started at his lips and moved towards his temples and jaw, neck, throat, only became deeper and bolder, not progressing towards hands or grinding or anything other than more touches. Kisses and caresses so tender they stirred something long forgotten in him. It couldn't have even been called exploration, a short scouting mission of sorts that some guys attempted to serve as foreplay. No, this was just – Kurt couldn't even name it. It was as if Blaine wanted to say hello to every millimeter of his skin, be it with the touch of his warm hands or his soft lips, a slide of his tongue, a gentle graze of teeth – everywhere. Literally everywhere, and Kurt just lay back, surrendered to it, helpless because here he was – experienced and so certain there was nothing left that could surprise him, sexually – coming undone in the most innocent, beautiful of ways, at the hands of a 17-year-old boy.

It wasn't the steady slide towards getting off, slow or hurried, but sure. It was... a serene warm sea of pleasure, lapping at him with gentle waves kissing his skin, and soon he stopped wondering and analyzing, and just let go, fell into Blaine's care, content to not hold back. It was as if his body was a new instrument that Blaine wanted to get to know – every plane and angle, every nook and cranny, tender and curious, fascinated by the sounds he managed to provoke.

There were spots on Kurt's body he was pretty sure no one else had ever bothered to pay attention to, and the warm waves echoed through him, evoking sounds and reactions beyond his control. He never knew the hollow by his ankle was a sensitive spot that sent him into arching pleasure with one sweep of a searching tongue. No one ever cared to explore his ribs and sides with such careful focus, discovering a whole spectrum of sensations, from ohmygodyes to uncontrollable giggles.

Every inch of his back, one giant erogenous zone that could bring him to his knees when used properly, but was always ignored after a short while, was now played on perfectly, languidly, as if they had all the time in the world. Blunt, calloused fingers raking down the sensitive skin with just a hint of nails; soft kisses down the valley of his spine; warm tongue lapping unexpectedly here and there, and before long Kurt was panting, moaning, whimpering, unable to stop. He was this close to begging when Blaine's hands slid down to his ass, stroking and kneading lightly. And when his lips followed, wet and hot, nipping and sucking on the muscle, nowhere near where he really needed it now, Kurt broke.

"Blaine please, please –"

"Turn over."

Blaine's voice was low and hoarse, his breathing labored, and Kurt groaned when he twisted to lay on his back and saw his face – eyes dark with want, lips ruby red. God, he couldn't remember the last time he wanted anyone so much; he was on the edge already, this close, aching and leaking, precome smeared generously around his navel.

"What do you want me to do?" Blaine was still fully dressed, his hand cupping the straining denim of his fly for a fleeting moment, and this was ridiculous, and ridiculously hot, and Kurt didn't know why he felt so much but he would surely die if he didn't get off soon.

"Anything, everything. Whatever you want. Just, please. I need you."

Blaine took his sweet time getting up from the bed and stripping off his clothes, his eyes never leaving Kurt's face, pink tongue peeking out once, twice, to wet those lips that looked raw from kissing. And then he was naked and gorgeous, and Kurt whined, his hips stuttering, seeking friction where there was none.

"Come here." Blaine was dropping to his knees by the bed and Kurt understood instantly, moving to sit on the edge, then laying back down when his arms refused to support him. That mouth, god, these lips on him, there was nothing he wanted more now. He nearly cried when Blaine kissed his thigh instead, his hip, teasing. Until he wasn't.

Blaine's mouth was just... everything. Shy and bold; inexperienced and enthusiastic. Gentle and passionate, quick to try and learn. Stretched wide around Kurt's considerable girth, vibrating with the steady stream of humming and moans as Blaine sunk over him slowly, deliberately, over and over again, and Kurt's eyes rolled back, his last coherent thoughts scrambling and sizzling to nothing. His fingers tangled in Blaine's hair, he barely remembered to tug weakly and then he was arching and singing his release in some crazy scale, broken roughly on a high note.

When he opened his eyes and blinked dazedly, it took him a moment just to catalogue his surroundings. Blaine's head was leaning heavily against his knee and Kurt sat up wobbly, to check on him and because he really, really needed to see his face now. Blaine's smile was dazzling, come smeared around his lips and chin, and Kurt pulled him up on the bed and into a sticky, salty kiss while his hand sneaked down to try and take care of him in turn.

Except there was nothing to take care of anymore, his fingers sliding through warm mess. Blaine chuckled self-consciously.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't... I didn't even... You’re just really hot when you come, okay?"

And really, the only thing Kurt could do was pull this adorable, amazing boy into another deep kiss.

But then Blaine stretched away a little and the next instant there was a ripe, juicy raspberry in Kurt's mouth and god, this was the best Monday morning imaginable. Naked in bed with a beautiful man, after sex that left him satiated in more ways than one; kissing and feeding each other raspberries, and cuddling a little, until they decided to get up. Delicious hot coffee followed, and then pancakes made and eaten together among talking and laughter. Piano notes and soft songs and more kisses, and it was just...

It was perfect.