“Hi.”

“Hey, come on in.”

Kurt’s cheeks flush and he tries to walk with more confidence than he feels because really he’s nervous as hell, but he strides past Blaine and into his apartment like he’s done over a dozen times now. When he drops his bag and turns around, he sees that Blaine has already closed the door behind them and he’s leaning back against it with a goofy smile stretched across his lips.

“…What?” Kurt asks, looking down at his clothes, hoping he hasn’t spilled anything on his pants.

“I missed you,” Blaine says simply.

“You just saw me twenty minutes ago in your classroom.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to look at you like this,” Blaine says, emphasizing his point by raking his eyes over Kurt’s body, sighing contently as he steps toward him. “And I didn’t get to do this, either.”

With that sentence, Blaine closes the final gap of space between them and encircles Kurt with his arms. He pulls Kurt to his chest, nuzzling his nose just below Kurt’s ear. Releasing a sweet, warm breath, Kurt relaxes in Blaine’s embrace, hugging him back in kind, and wow it feels sort of really awesome here. Blaine’s all wrapped around him and his hair smells really nice and his hands are gentle on his back. He fits so well against Kurt, just small enough for Kurt to be able to press an unsure kiss against Blaine’s temple.

“I missed you, too,” Kurt finally sighs.

They remain wrapped around each other for a few, long seconds before Blaine finally takes the initiative and pulls away, tilting his head up just the tiniest bit to be able to look into Kurt’s eyes.

“I wish I could kiss you,” he says.

“You – you can kiss my cheek?” Kurt offers.

Blaine huffs out a small chuckle and plants the smallest kiss on Kurt’s still-flushed cheekbone.

“It kind of sucks,” Kurt remarks.

“What does?”

“Technically, I’m old enough to decide who I want to kiss, but I still can’t kiss the one person I’ve decided I want to kiss.”

“Well,” Blaine sighs. “December second isn’t too far away.”

“It’s far enough,” Kurt grumbles, pouting his lips.

“None of that,” Blaine says with a kind smile. “Looking cute isn’t gonna get you what you want, not with this.”

“I know,” Kurt says, stepping away. “A boy can dream.”

“And dreams can’t get your put in prison.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t be going to prison, mister. You would.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Blaine groans, sidestepping Kurt and making his way into the kitchen. “I already have enough reservations about this. I don’t need to be reminded that I’m a – that I’m-”

“Don’t,” Kurt says instantly. “You’re not anything.”

“But you’re-”

“I’m the one who convinced you to do this, Blaine.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a minor and, as such, it’s my responsibility to do the right thing,” Blaine says flatly, reaching into his fridge for a pitcher of something sweet and red. “Juice?”

“Is that…Kool-Aid?”

“What? Yeah,” Blaine says, looking back down at the pitcher in his hand. “What’s wrong with Kool-Aid? I love Kool-Aid.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep his smile at bay. “And I’m the underage one in the relationship.”

“Kool-Aid is delicious. You shut your face.”

“I don’t doubt the deliciousness of your sweet, sugary drink. Just wondering how long you’ve been a ten year old boy.”

“You know, you’re really mean,” Blaine says, pouring a glass of juice.

“I thought you understood and appreciated my wit.”

“…Shut your face,” Blaine says again.

Kurt steps closer and bumps Blaine’s hip with his own. “You’ve got to lighten up about this whole thing, you know? If we’re going to make this work.”

“Is it going to work?” Blaine asks bluntly, turning to face Kurt.

“…Okay, five minutes ago, you were missing me and now you’re doubting everything,” Kurt states. “What is going on?”

Blaine sighs, glancing down at the glass and watching his finger trail along the rim. Kurt watches the way his forehead scrunches in confusion or worry or maybe both. Eventually, when Blaine doesn’t speak, Kurt takes hold of the hand Blaine’s using to touch the glass and laces their fingers together.

“Please talk to me,” he says.

“I just – I don’t know. It’s like – it’s like, every time I think about you, all I want is to be with you and hold you. But when you’re actually here and I can be with you, I just – I feel guilty about wanting anything because you’re so…young. You’re young and beautiful and you should be with someone who you don’t have to hide.”

Nodding his understanding, because he really does understand, Kurt pulls at Blaine’s hand and tugs him toward the couch.

“C’mon,” he says softly. “Sit with me.”

When they’re finally seated, Kurt kicks off his shoes, curls his feet up under him, and snuggles into Blaine’s side. He tucks his head in the crook of Blaine’s neck where things are safe and warm and waits patiently for Blaine to finally wrap his arm around Kurt’s shoulders.

“We don’t have to hide forever,” Kurt whispers. “It’s just for now. And it’s because people wouldn’t understand.”

“It’s because people would lynch me and I’d be ruined if they found out.”

“That too,” Kurt says honestly. “But we won’t let it happen. We’ll be careful.”

“But how careful?” Blaine wonders. “What if we slip up? What if you call me by my first name during class? What if someone sees us together after class?”

“We don’t interact at school,” Kurt reminds him. “And the only time I’m ever in your classroom after school is to help you grade. We could…stop doing that? Would that help?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine sighs in frustration.

“Do you – do you just not want this anymore? I guess we sort of, um, jumped into it or whatever.”

“No that’s not – fuck. I do want you,” Blaine says, tightening his hold on Kurt’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “I’m just freaking out. Because I know I can stop myself from doing something stupid at school. But I can’t – I can’t control another person.”

“Well, I may be new to this whole relationship thing, but…doesn’t trust play a part in all of this? Or do you not trust me because you just, uh, because you just see me as a kid?”

“No, no, it’s not because of that,” Blaine assures. “And I do – I want to trust you.”

“But you don’t.”

“It’s just hard for me, okay? Trust doesn’t come easily.”

Kurt turns his gaze upward, catching sight of Blaine’s closed eyes and the way he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I want to be with you,” Kurt says softly. “And I won’t do anything to jeopardize this. I’m a careful person. I don’t act rashly and I really care about you. I won’t screw this up. I won’t.”

“No one can know,” Blaine says.

“I know. I know. My friends can’t know, my family can’t know, your friends can’t know. No one can know.”

“Isn’t that…hard? Isn’t it hard for you? To finally have someone but not be able to talk about it?” Blaine asks.

“Well, right now it isn’t,” Kurt admits freely. “Right now it’s kind of…fun. The secrets and – I don’t know, the whole forbidden thing, having someone you’re not supposed to have and all that. I’m sure that’ll wear off eventually and it’ll become frustrating, but hopefully by then I’ll be graduating and we won’t have to keep it quiet that much longer.”

“…You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” Blaine asks, sounding fairly impressed.

“I told you,” Kurt reiterates. “I want to be with you. And I’m going to be careful because if things go badly and I – I don’t want to lose you. I won’t risk something stupid because I won’t risk losing you.”

Blaine finally gives a defeated sigh and sinks lower onto the couch, propping his bare feet up on the coffee table.

“I’m going to the special hell,” he groans before dropping a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head.

“Well, I’m going with you. So at least you won’t be alone.”

“You’re a terrible influence.”

“If you buy me a dirty martini, then you’ll be the terrible influence.”

“I’m not buying you alcohol.”

“Blaaaine,” Kurt whines.

“Oh, I see. You’re just using me for my alcoholic connections. Trying to plan a teenager kegger?”

“Definitely. Because all teenager keggers have dirty martinis on the menu.”

“Touché.”

“When I turn twenty-one, I expect a whole slew of martinis.”

“You think you’ll still want me when you’re twenty-one? I’ll be old,” Blaine teases, slipping his hand down Kurt’s side, tickling him through his shirt. “I’ll be almost thirty! I’ll practically be ancient!”

“I’ll buy you Rogaine!” Kurt squeals in delight. “I’ll remind you to clean your dentures every night!”

Blaine gives a mock gasp, pulling away and pressing a hand to his chest. “I resent that! My teeth are perfectly lovely!”

To prove his point, he gives a broad, exaggerated smile and Kurt falls back onto the couch, laughing loudly in the small apartment. Blaine watches him the whole time. When Kurt’s giggles die down, he looks up at Blaine, who is now settled at the opposite end of the couch.

“What?” he asks breathlessly.

“You have a remarkable laugh,” Blaine says through his smile.

Kurt snorts, quite indelicately, and says, “Oh you’re definitely going to have dentures by the time you’re thirty. Especially if you keep saying such cloyingly sweet things to me. Your teeth are going to fall right out of your head.”

“You’re vicious.”

“Only speakin’ truth.”

“I forgot about my Kool-Aid!”

When Blaine jumps up to retrieve his juice from the kitchen, Kurt rolls his eyes, though he can’t help but do so fondly.

After another hour of shameless flirting and sitting too close on the piano bench, Kurt bids farewell to Blaine and heads home for dinner. His cheek still feels warm with Blaine’s goodbye kiss when his dad asks how his day was.

Up in his room, Kurt huffs in annoyance over his open notebook, ignoring his calculus homework in favor or thinking back on their discussion in Blaine’s apartment earlier. Kurt hadn’t been lying; he definitely knows the risks of this whole…affair thing. And he’s going to do his very best not to screw any of this up.

But now, all he can think about is the prospect of things getting screwed up without, uh, their consent. Like, what if someone sees them at Blaine’s or something? Or what if they’re caught staring at each other too long or what if they have to end it for whatever reason? Or what if they just – just break up?

Should they have a contingency plan?

Snapping his spiral shut, Kurt picks up his phone and dials Blaine’s number.

“Hello?”

“We have to talk about a back-up plan,” Kurt says without hesitation.

“…What?”

“Because what if things turn to shit? What if we break up while I’m still at school and you’re still my teacher? What if things get weird? I mean, we can’t know everything that’s going to happen. What if we break up and you hate me and decide to fail me on principle?”

“…It is a possibility,” Blaine finally says.

“What?!”

“No, that’s – I’m saying there is a possibility that things could go south. There’s always a possibility of a relationship ending for whatever reason.”

“And you’d fail me over it?” Kurt wonders in disbelief.

“No,” Blaine says calmly. “I’m saying the possibility always exists. I’m your teacher and it could go that way because I do have that power. But it won’t.”

“But you just said things could-”

“It won’t be like that because I won’t be like that, Kurt,” Blaine explains. “I would never fail you, even if we had the messiest break up in the history of break ups.”

“Do you promise? Because I can’t-”

“I promise. I swear it,” Blaine says softly.

“Okay,” Kurt says, exhaling in relief. “Okay. Good.”

“Maybe we should outline some solid rules here,” Blaine suggests. “So we both know what can and cannot happen.”

“Yeah. That might be good.”

“Okay. First set of rules: nothing beyond holding hands and kisses on the cheek until you’re eighteen. And no sex until you graduate.”

“Right. And no hanging around after school to see you. Because getting caught in school would be like, the worst thing ever.”

“Yes. But I think we should continue the grading sessions on Tuesdays and Thursdays because everyone already knows that you grade for me. I mean, we could just stop them, but we’d have to say it was because I didn’t need your help anymore but I’d end up doing all the grading by myself. I’d have to return essays later than I do now and it wouldn’t make sense.”

“So we’ll keep grading,” Kurt decides. “But no talking about non-school stuff while we grade.”

“Exactly. And maybe it’s best if I don’t bring you coffee in the mornings anymore.”

“Okay,” Kurt agrees. “But what about when we run into each other in the coffee shop? Because you know that happens.”

“Well, we just won’t sit down together anymore. We can talk in line, but only about school-related things. And if we meet each other at a table, one of us should always be standing.”

“…Why?”

“Because then, if someone we recognize walks in, it will always look like one of us is ready to leave. It’ll look like we don’t have plans to have a prolonged conversation, like we just bumped into each other.”

“Oh,” Kurt says. “That actually makes sense. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Very funny,” Blaine mumbles. “As it happens, I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

“Oh. Okay, well, so we just…see each other on Tuesdays and Thursdays? After school, for the lessons.”

“About that,” Blaine says. “Maybe you could have another lesson on Friday afternoons as well. After school.”

“I thought we didn’t want to make anything look, um, abnormal.”

“I think if it’s under the guise of a lesson, it should be fine,” Blaine says. “And I just – I’m selfish and I want to see you more often.”

Kurt blushes to his roots, thankful Blaine can’t see him through the phone.

“I want to see you more, too,” he sighs, climbing onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what Blaine was doing before he called. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you when I called.”

“Not at all,” Blaine says. “I was just about to read a book.”

“What book are you-”

But before he can ask his question, his bedroom door opens with no knock to accompany it, and his dad pokes his head inside.

“Carole wants to know if you wanna watch that ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ show thing with her,” his dad says.

“Yeah,” Kurt says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too suspiciously squeaky. “I’ll be down in a minute. I’m talking to Mercedes.”

His father gives a solid nod before backing out of the room, leaving the door open as he goes. Kurt groans and turns his attention back to Blaine.

“I’ve gotta go,” Kurt says. “I’ll text you before bed.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Enjoy your book.”

“I will. Bye, Kurt.”

“Bye, Blaine.”

Kurt discovers that school actually becomes a bit more bearable, thanks to his English class and the random run-ins he has with Blaine in the hallways. True to their agreement, they never speak of anything that isn’t related to school and they never intentionally see each other out of class when on school grounds, save for their grading sessions. Kurt also notices that, while Blaine’s a pretty happy person in general, he only has one certain smile for Kurt when they see each other. For anyone else, Blaine has a tight-lipped, closed smile, one that reflects tolerance or maybe indifference. He saves his broad smiles, complete with twinkling eyes and a flash of teeth, for Kurt and Kurt alone. That smile makes Kurt’s insides twist up in the best possible way and that smile is almost as good as a kiss in greeting.

“You look happy,” Mercedes comments one day at lunch.

“He looks like he’s glowing,” Santana corrects with a devious grin. “Fess up, Hummel. You finally lost the big V, didn’t you?”

“I’m not sure if I should be repulsed or flattered by your interest in my sexual welfare,” Kurt says. “But to answer your question, no.”

“They’re right, though,” Rachel agrees. “You do seem happier these days.”

Kurt shrugs. “Maybe it’s just because I’m happy that this is my last year in this homophobic hell hole. By this time next year, I’ll be having lunch in Central Park and I won’t be surrounded by idiots.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Rachel says eagerly, holding up a bottle of water.

Clacking his own bottle against hers, they drink to their New York dream. When Kurt sees Blaine – Mr. Anderson – enter the cafeteria to purchase whatever fresh fruit they’re offering today, he smiles to himself.

Two weeks before Kurt’s birthday, he and Blaine are sitting on the sofa, their bare feet propped up on the coffee table. A movie is playing on the television, but Kurt can’t focus on it at all when Blaine’s so close to him, their legs outstretched and pressed together with Blaine’s arm draped over his shoulders.

“This is the first time we’ve totally foregone the piano lesson,” Kurt notes.

“It’s Friday,” Blaine says. “I don’t feel like teaching today.”

Kurt smiles and leans his head on Blaine’s shoulder, scooting an inch or two closer and closing his eyes when he feels Blaine’s hand drop from his shoulder to settle onto his upper arm instead. It’s all they’ve ever done, you see. They sit together, snuggled up on Blaine’s comfortable couch with the occasional hand-holding and the obligatory hello-goodbye kiss on the cheek. It’s nice, it really is.

But it’s almost been a month.

And Kurt just wants…to be closer.

So he decides to ask.

“Can we – can we lie down together?” he asks quietly.

“…Like-”

“Just cuddling,” Kurt promises. “On the sofa. But – can we?”

Blaine seems to consider the idea for a moment, but he eventually releases his hold on Kurt and flops down on his side, legs still on the coffee table at a right angle from his body. Kurt blinks in confusion and looks down at him.

“Well we can’t stretch out if you’re in the way,” Blaine points out.

“Oh, right.”

Kurt stands, allowing Blaine to stretch his legs out down the length of the sofa, one arm outstretched, ready for Kurt to lie in front of him. Oh gosh, he looks taller like this and Kurt can see the stretch of muscles in his arm. Blaine’s jeans are riding low on his hips and an inch of skin peeks through the gap between his jeans and his t-shirt. Kurt swallows his teenage hormones back down where they belong.

“Lay down,” Blaine says, patting the empty space next to him.

Okay, so he might as well have said ‘take off your clothes’, because Kurt’s heart rate starts to stutter. But the whole thing was his idea, so he settles back down on the sofa, resting his head on Blaine’s outstretched arm. He extends his legs, immediately feeling Blaine’s kneecaps press behind his own and they curl into each other. Blaine wraps his other arm around Kurt’s middle, tugging him closer, something that’s probably not the best idea because hello, Kurt can feel Blaine’s denim-covered crotch against his ass.

But he wanted closer and this is definitely closer.

“Is this okay?” Blaine asks, breath ghosting over the back of Kurt’s neck.

“Y-yeah,” Kurt answers, the sensation causing his body to shiver.

“You always smell so good,” Blaine whispers as he nuzzles his nose in Kurt’s hair.

Kurt’s body presses back into Blaine’s, as if it was made to do just that, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself. He might not be mentally ready for anything sexual, but his body really just wants to take and it’s so not okay for that right now.

“If you keep squirming like that, the rules we put in place aren’t going to hold up in the next five minutes,” Blaine says.

Oh great, and now that he knows what Blaine is thinking, it makes it even more difficult and Kurt is trying to fight the erection that’s beginning to press against his zipper.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says in a near groan.

“Hey, shh,” Blaine says, pressing his palm, flat and firm, against Kurt’s belly. “We’re definitely going to have to deal with this more later on when we’re even more comfortable with each other. We can’t exactly do everything we want, so we’ve got to, um, try and control it now.”

“Well, I didn’t think just laying up against you like this would give me a hard on.”

“…You’re hard?”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says again.

“No, no,” Blaine says quickly. “That’s fine, it’s just – well, now that you said it, it’s going to make me hard.”

“This is really difficult.”

“We’ll just talk,” Blaine says, removing his hand from Kurt’s stomach and carding his fingers through Kurt’s hair instead. “We’ll talk and think about other stuff. Have you lived in Lima all your life?”

“What?”

“I’m trying the talking thing,” Blaine explains. “Help me out.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ve lived in Lima all my life. Where were you born?”

“I was born in Columbus. We moved to Lima when I was three and then to Westerville when I was five.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“July. Do you have any pets?”

“No, but Finn wants a dog.”

“Finn?”

“He’s my stepbrother,” Kurt explains, his erection finally dying down. “My dad remarried a woman named Carole last year and with that, I got a stepbrother.”

“Finn,” Blaine says blankly. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

“He’s in your sixth period English class.”

“That Finn? Finn Hudson?”

“One in the same.”

“Wow. And how’s that working out?”

“It’s okay,” Kurt shrugs, leaning into Blaine’s touch where he’s still got his fingers in Kurt’s hair. “It was worse when we had to share a room in our old house. Finn’s not the…cleanest person.”

“Ah,” Blaine replies in understanding. “Are you a neat freak?”

“Not so much a freak,” Kurt says. “I just – leaving your dirty, smell, football practice socks everywhere just doesn’t work for me.”

“Understandable.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I have an older brother,” Blaine informs. “His name is Cooper. He’s a doctor.”

“Oh yeah?” Kurt teases. “Sounds like I went after the wrong Anderson.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

“…Okay, that was supposed to be a joke,” Kurt says, backpedaling. “Is Cooper gay, too?”

“No, Cooper’s straight.”

“Then why would someone who went after you go after him instead?”

“I guess I meant, um, on a more personal level.”

“Yeah…I don’t follow,” Kurt admits.

“Cooper’s straight, good looking, smart, and he’s a doctor. He’s everything a parent could ever hope for,” Blaine explains. “Especially when the second son turns out to be gay with an intense love for musicals.”

Blaine’s voice turns soft and he stops the movement of his fingers in Kurt’s hair. The tension in the air is thick, heavy, and Kurt doesn’t like it at all. He thinks back to the first time Blaine mentioned his father and that’s when it hits him:

He can ask now.

With this realization in mind, Kurt turns in Blaine’s arms, shuffling around until their knees bump and they’re face to face. Blaine looks over at him, eyes a little distant and the expression on his face almost breaks Kurt’s heart.

“Remember when I said I wanted to know everything about you?” Kurt whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Will you tell me about your parents?”

Blaine sighs, resigned to the fact that he needs to tell his story.

“My parents were fine,” Blaine begins. “I mean, they raised us well. But when I came out as a teenager, things became a bit…strained. My mother accepted it, I guess. Or at least, she never really spoke of it. When we talk on the phone, occasionally she’ll ask if I’m seeing someone. But I think she still hopes that I’ll settle down with a nice girl and father a few of that girl’s children. My dad was – was a little more outspoken against it. Like, even after I came out, he tried to set me up with some girl from my old school because he knew her parents. And once, we built a car in the garage together over the summer. That sounds like good father-son bonding, in theory, but I think he did it because he thought doing some real manly work might suddenly make me straight or something. Every time he looked at me, I feel like he just…disapproved of everything I did. And so, instead of going to New York to do what I loved, I settled for becoming a teacher, which wasn’t something I loved, but it was something I liked.”

“What – how did your brother react when you came out?”

“Oh, Cooper was all for it. He was already in his second year of college when it happened. He came home over break and hung a giant rainbow flag on the outside of my bedroom door.”

“Wow, I bet your parents were really happy with that.”

“They tore it down when he stopped coming home for breaks,” Blaine says. “But I found it and hung it in my dorm at college. I think I still have it somewhere in a box or something. Cooper’s a really great brother. He just doesn’t realize how much…my parents prefer him to me.”

“Will I ever get to meet him?” Kurt asks. “You know, like, later? If we’re still together?”

“Well, if you end up in New York, you just might. He practices out of Manhattan.”

He says it like it’s supposed to be a perk, but Kurt wonders if Blaine harbors a little jealousy because Cooper actually got out of Ohio and into the same city where Blaine wishes he could be.

“Maybe I’ll let myself get hit by a cab or something so I can run into him,” Kurt says with a small smile.

“I’ll be sure to call and give him a heads up.”

Kurt’s smile widens and he leans closer, just enough to where he can plant a small kiss on the tip of Blaine’s nose.

“I like hearing things about your life,” Kurt says when he pulls back. “It reminds that you’re – I don’t know, that you’re real or something. That you’re more than just the teacher I see every day.”

“I’m just glad you’re as smart as you are,” Blaine says, resting his hand on Kurt’s waist. “Because it would be so unfair of me to give you an A just because you’re so pretty.”

“Are you always so cheesy?”

“Pretty much. Do you like it?”

“I do, actually,” Kurt says with a sparkle in his eyes. “I’m definitely someone who appreciates cheesy romanticism.”

“Good, because I’ve saved up a lot of cheesy lines,” Blaine says, pulling Kurt closer and pressing their foreheads together. “Just for you.”

Closing his eyes, Kurt sighs softly against Blaine’s lips. They’re so close, Kurt thinks, and he could just tilt his chin down and they could finally kiss. It wouldn’t even have to be a long, passionate kiss. It could just be a brief, chaste one. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

But it would. Because they had made a deal and Kurt’s still seventeen and he won’t put Blaine in that position.

“Two weeks,” Blaine whispers, as if he can read Kurt’s mind. “Just two weeks.”

“I know,” Kurt replies quietly. “And for the record, I help fix cars in my dad’s shop sometimes. And I’m still just as gay as I’ve always been. So if your dad was trying to make you straight, he definitely went about that the wrong way.”

“You fix cars? Do you have coveralls?”

“Of course. And I bedazzled all the buttons.”

“I have got to see this.”

“Not even a chance.”

Two weeks can’t come soon enough. Those two weeks turn out to be Kurt’s own, special brand of torture because now all he sees are Blaine’s lips. That following Monday, Kurt is sitting in English while Blaine – Mr. Anderson – is lecturing and Kurt can’t hear a damn thing he says.

Because lips.

Lips forming around sounds and making words that mean nothing to him because Kurt just remembers how close those lips had been to his a few days ago. Two weeks from now, those lips will finally be on his and he’ll know how those lips taste, he’ll know how they feel and holy shit.

How is he ever going to get through the rest of this year?

He might have to ask Blaine for some lecture notes tomorrow because he really just can’t pay attention right now.

“You were drooling in class today.”

“I was not!” Kurt squeaks indignantly over the phone later that same Monday.

“I saw you wipe it away with your sleeve.”

“You saw no such thing.”

“Oh, but I did,” Blaine says lowly. “Anything in particular you were thinking about?”

“No!”

“I’m so sure.”

The day before Kurt’s birthday happens to fall on a Thursday, and currently Kurt is stretched out on Blaine’s sofa with his legs in Blaine’s lap and a popcorn bucket on his crotch.

“You’re not going to do one of those dicks-in-the-popcorn bucket tricks, are you?”

Kurt snorts, holding the bowl in place so it doesn’t fall off.

“The bowl is plastic. I’d have to cut the hole and I don’t think my penis wants to be shoved through that.”

“Okay, good. Because I’m trying to be an upstanding gentleman here.”

“You know, I think people are going to be suspicious about the whole piano lesson thing when they realize I’m not getting any better at playing,” Kurt says with a quick look toward the piano in question. “You haven’t given me an actual lesson in two weeks.”

“Hey, you can play if you want to. There’s only so much I know how to teach. And you play very well.”

“You’d just rather snuggle,” Kurt says.

He tosses a piece of popcorn at Blaine’s face, hitting him square on the side of the head.

Blaine blinks rapidly, not turning his head.

“…You did not.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“You realize you’re starting a war, right? A war that I’m sure to win because I’ve had practice.”

“You have popcorn wars with all of your boyfriends?” Kurt asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, but I did have them with my brother. He taught me his ways.”

“I bet he kicked your ass.”

Saying nothing else, Blaine doesn’t even turn his head as he snatches the popcorn bowl away from Kurt and dumps its entire contents in Kurt’s face. He tosses the bucket on the floor and returns his hands to Kurt’s legs.

Kurt remains still, buried under a mound of popcorn.

“I will never doubt you again,” Kurt grumbles through the sickening, buttery snack destroying his pores.

“Happy birthday!”

Kurt groans into his pillow. The sun mocks him with its too bright rays and he peers up at his father through sleepy eyes.

“It’s too early for birthdays,” Kurt states, covering his face with a pillow. “Leave me to sleep.”

“Not a chance. Carole’s making you breakfast and we’re all going to sit down and eat before you and Finn have to go to school.”

“Technically, Finn’s the only one who has to be at school soon. I have an off per-”

“Up!” his dad shouts, wrenching away the pillow covering Kurt’s eyes. “C’mon, kid, you’re legal! That’s something to celebrate!”

Kurt sits up reluctantly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and says, “I have the rest of my life to be legal.”

“Well today’s the day to enjoy it,” Burt says with a nod. “Hurry up. Carole’s making crepes with apricot glaze.”

Immediately brightening at that thought, Kurt leaps out of bed and tugs on his robe. Just as he seats himself in front of his mirror, ready to apply his morning facial cream, his phone buzzes on his bedside table.

A text from Blaine.

Happy Birthday, Kurt! Can’t wait to give you your present later ;)

A winky face. A winky face!

That’s when it hits him:

Kurt Hummel is going to get kissed today.

Glancing in the mirror one last time, Kurt tugs at the hem of his nearly sheer, white sweater over his green blouse and smoothes down the front of his snug, khaki trousers, fitted perfectly around his long legs. He looks pretty good, he has to say, and he’s actually excited for the day. With his belly full of sweet crepes and grapefruit juice, Kurt snatches up his bag and trots downstairs.

“Oh, honey, you look dashing,” Carole says, patting down his collar.

“You think so?” he asks timidly.

“Yes!” she says emphatically. “Trying to look good for anyone special?”

“Just myself,” Kurt says weakly.

“Well, you look great. Have a good day at school. Your dad had to leave for work, but he said to tell you he loves you.”

“Thanks, Carole.”

“Happy birthday, sweetie!” she calls once more as he walks out the front door.

Kurt climbs into his car, checking his hair in the mirror again before finally heading toward the coffee shop. He’s running a little later than he’d like, but Blaine’s car is still in the parking lot so it’s a good sign.

When he walks inside, wallet open and ready to place his order, he sees Blaine standing off to side, waiting for his coffee.

“Kurt, hey!” his teacher greets and Kurt hopes he doesn’t blush too hard.

“Hey, Mr. Anderson.”

“You look great,” Blaine says softly. Then, as if he doesn’t already know the answer, he asks, “Anything special about today?”

“It’s my birthday,” Kurt says, as if he’s mentioning it for the first time. “I’m finally eighteen.”

“Wow,” Blaine says with this sort of half-grin. “Finally legal. I hope someone gives you something special.”

“I hope so, too,” Kurt says, not really knowing where his sudden shyness has come from.

“I’ll see you at school.” Blaine pats Kurt’s shoulder with a firm hand and, as he passes, coffee in hand, Kurt can feel a soft brush of that same hand on his lower back.

A few minutes later, when Kurt is ready to head to school as well, he receives another text message.

I might have to assign a study period.

Why’s that? Kurt responds.

Because I might not be able to focus on the lecture when you look so hot.

Kurt smiles so hard he can feel his dimples threatening to take over the rest of his face.

The day goes by slowly, much to Kurt’s frustration. English seems to last forever because he’s sitting right there, right across from Blaine and he could just jump over their desks and kiss him if he wanted to.

Which, of course, he can’t.

But that’s not the point.

The fact is Kurt has to wait all damn day for the present that he wants. His friends seem to ignore the way he fidgets in his chair at lunch or the way he wrings his hands all through Glee club. He assumes they think he’s just excited because it’s his birthday, which he is, but with this birthday brings all new excitement.

He’s going to get his first kiss.

Well, okay. So technically, he’s been kissed before. He had quite a make out session with Brittany back in sophomore year, but he doesn’t count that because she’s a girl. He also had a one time, never going to happen again, surprise-I-hate-you-but-I’m-gay kiss from Karofsky, but he doesn’t count that because it wasn’t something he ever wanted.

This will be his first kiss with a boy he likes. Actually, with a man he likes. However, the more Kurt comes to know Blaine, he definitely thinks he’s still a bit of a boy at heart.

And that suits Kurt just fine.

After buying Puck a pack of cigarettes (Just because you can now, dude) from a nearby gas station (I’ll take a pack of the ones with the green on the front, yes, the menthols), Kurt finally parks his car in front of Blaine’s apartment. He double checks his hair again in his rearview mirror and makes sure there’s nothing in his teeth. Popping a breath mint in his mouth, he finally climbs out of the car, chewing as fast as he can, and makes his way to Blaine’s apartment door.

Before he can knock, Blaine wrenches open the door and greets him with an overly-bright smile.

“Come in, come in!” he urges, tugging Kurt inside.

“Wha-”

“Happy birthday!”

“Thank you,” Kurt says calmly, staring while Blaine almost bounces on his feet. “Why are you so jittery?”

“I made you cupcakes last night,” Blaine explains. “And I kind of already ate three today. So I might be on a sugar high.”

“I didn’t know twenty-five year olds were susceptible to sugar highs.”

“I’m small,” Blaine says. “Sugar has a lot of effect on me. Sit!”

“Okay…”

“Not there.” Blaine stops him from sitting on the sofa. “Next to me. Here.”

With a gentle hand on Kurt’s shoulder blade, Blaine leads him over to the piano and forces him onto the bench. Kurt sits gracefully, folding his hands in his lap.

“So your present comes in five parts.”

“Five?!”

“Well, one’s the cupcakes. We can eat those later. Two, here.”

Blaine plucks a brand new book of sheet music from atop the piano and presses it into Kurt’s hands.

“I know how much you love The Sound of Music,” Blaine says, gesturing to the cover. “You might already have it, but it made me think of you.”

“I don’t have this one, actually,” Kurt replies. “I guess people assume it’s the obvious choice, so they never get it. Thank you.”

“Three, open it.”

Kurt shoots Blaine a curious look, but does as he’s told. Tucked in between the cover and the very first page is a picture.

Of Blaine.

From high school.

“Oh my god,” Kurt gasps. “You really do look good in the blazer.”

“I told you,” Blaine says with a cocky grin. “That’s yours to keep. I was a senior. I wanted to give you a more, um, updated one. But I think if anyone found it, they’d wonder why you had a picture of your English teacher hidden away and I promised I’d let you see one of these so yeah.”

“You’re adorable,” Kurt says, thumb stroking over Blaine’s younger face in the picture. “I would have dated you then, too.”

“It’s too bad, really. I knew all the secret little hidey holes at Dalton. We could’ve had some great times skipping class.”

“We’ll skip together one day,” Kurt says like a promise. “No one will suspect. Teachers and students miss days all the time. And we can spend all day here in your apartment watching movies and eating food that’s absolutely horrible for us.”

“It’s a date.” Blaine nods. “Now, four. Scoot back a little.”

Kurt scoots back a bit on the bench and watches Blaine lift open the panel to reveal the ivory keys on the piano.

“I didn’t write this song,” Blaine begins. “But I heard it a while ago and it made me think of you. I changed up a few of the, um, pronouns to make it fit. So I just – I hope you like it. Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

As if he’d practiced that little speech, Blaine takes a deep breath when he finishes talking and begins to play something particularly exquisite and beautiful on the keys, the tune sounding vaguely familiar to Kurt’s ears.

And he sings.

If I don't say this now I will surely break
As I'm leaving the one I want to take
Forgive the urgency but hurry up and wait
My heart has started to separate

Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Be my baby
Oh, oh

Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Be my baby
I’ll look after you

Kurt sits, his hands clutching at each other just beneath his chin. He certainly didn’t expect such a romantic gesture, not after Blaine’s jittery, child-like excitement a few minutes ago.

When I'm losing my control, the city spins around
You're the only one who knows, you slow it down

Blaine plays with passion, hands flying over the keys and Kurt wonders how long Blaine has been rehearsing this song, just so he could perform it here in the sanctity of his home.

If ever there was a doubt
My love he leans into me

Forcing back tears he never expected would surface, Kurt clutches the book of music and the picture Blaine had gifted him, listening and holding himself still as a stone. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this. He’s never been on the receiving end of a serenade before.

What's mine is yours to leave or take
What's mine is yours to make your own

Oh, oh
Be my baby
Oh, oh

Oh, oh
Be my baby
Oh, oh

Blaine continues to sing, repeating the chorus over and over again like maybe he needs Kurt to know that he really means it, really wants this, and Kurt does, too.

He does want it. He wants Blaine and everything he has to offer, even if they’re a little insane for letting this happen in the first place.

The song ends. Blaine drops his hands into his lap, looking somewhat embarrassed and partially lost. Kurt places the photograph and the music on top of the piano.

“What’s part five?” Kurt asks, voice soft in the room.

“Part five is when I kiss you,” Blaine admits, finally looking back up at Kurt.

Of course it is.

Kurt reaches over to lace his fingers with Blaine’s, forcing his hand away from his lap and positioning it on Kurt’s face.

“So kiss me.”

And he does. He leans over and presses his lips to Kurt’s in a wisp of a kiss, skin barely touching, a ghost of what’s really between them. It’s gentle, sweet, unassuming, everything Blaine is but Kurt needs more, he needs it all, so he cards his fingers into Blaine’s hair and takes note of the soft, pleased sigh against his mouth.

“Please,” Kurt begs. It’s a breath, just a breath of a word and just like that, Blaine comes unhinged.

The hand on Kurt’s cheek holds him firmly in place while Blaine’s other hand snakes around Kurt’s waist, pulling him closer on the piano bench. Blaine turns Kurt toward him, angling his head to deepen the kiss and ohgodohgod, a tongue is on his lips and it’s Blaine’s tongue, tasting like icing and a bit of espresso when Kurt responds in kind because he wants to experience every aspect of kissing he can, right here and right now. Blaine groans when Kurt’s hands in his hair turn to fists, gripping tightly and attempting to force him even closer.

Blaine breaks away.

“C-couch,” he says, panting harshly against Kurt’s cheek.

Kurt needs no further encouragement and follows Blaine over to the couch in question, giving a small squeak in shock when Blaine tugs Kurt down to straddle his lap.

“Yes,” Blaine says, quite nearly in a moan as his palms drift down Kurt’s sides to grip his hips. “Like this.”

Like this, yes, like this, Kurt agrees inside his head, ducking down to capture Blaine’s lips once more. He drapes his arms over Blaine’s shoulders, hands braced on the back of the couch for leverage and he kisses Blaine like his life depends on it. It’s all he’s ever wanted, really, to be in Blaine’s arms, to be wanted and touched and kissed like he matters, like he’s worth something. He never wants to stop. He wants Blaine’s lips, Blaine’s tongue, the clack of his teeth, and the little noises sounding in the back of Blaine’s throat. He wants it all forever.

And good lord, Blaine Anderson sure knows how to kiss. There’s a twist of the tongue and Blaine’s lower lip drags across Kurt’s top, damp with mingled spit and Kurt never thought he’d find spit to be hot, but fuck if it isn’t one of the single hottest things he’s ever experienced. He whimpers when those lips begin to trail, hot and wet down his chin and Blaine’s tongue darts out to brush against his adam’s apple.

“Oh, god,” Kurt breathes, hips lurching on their own in Blaine’s lap.

“You like that?” Blaine asks, voice deep and husky in way Kurt has never heard.

“Y-yeah,” Kurt tells him, one of his hands returning to its rightful place, tangled in Blaine’s hair.

Blaine hums against his skin, sending vibrations into Kurt’s throat, causing his hips to rut again.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Blaine whispers. His hands glide up from Kurt’s hips to tickle up under his shirt and drag over his smooth, sensitive skin.

Kurt thinks he might be suffering from complete sensory overload because all at once, the lips, the hands, that bite along his collarbone, it’s all happening so fast and heat is already swirling low in his belly.

“I – I’m – we should-”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine hisses instantly, hands stilling on Kurt’s back, yet still gripping his skin with an extreme intensity. He’s panting harshly against Kurt’s damp neck, nuzzling his forehead against Kurt’s chin.

“God, don’t be sorry,” Kurt tells him, chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. He plants a kiss on the nearest part of Blaine’s head he can reach. “We just – we made a deal. Thing.”

“I know.”

Blaine places one last, soft kiss against the hollow of Kurt’s throat before he finally slips his hands out from under Kurt’s shirt.

“You just make these sounds,” Blaine tries to explain. “I wasn’t expecting you to – just – wow. I think I almost just came in my pants like a teenager.”

“I think I almost came in my pants like a – me.”

Tossing his head back, Blaine can’t help but laugh at Kurt’s statement. Kurt’s just glad they had enough blood left in their brains to call a halt before a first kiss turned into a first orgasm. Which wouldn’t have been bad, not necessarily, but they did have an agreement.

Now, though, Kurt is wondering what ‘no sex while you’re my student’ really means.

“You never said,” Blaine says, tracing innocuous patterns on Kurt’s clothed thighs with his fingertips. “Did you like the song?”

“I loved it,” Kurt says, honest in every way. “It was perfect.”

“Good,” Blaine says softly, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.” Kurt cranes his neck to place a single, chaste kiss against Blaine’s lips, giddy at the thought of being able to do that whenever he wants now. Well, whenever they’re not in or around school. “So where are my cupcakes?”

“Oh my god, just wait until you taste one. I think I really outdid myself.”

Kurt slides off Blaine’s lap onto the sofa, watching as his boyfriend stands and saunters into the kitchen.

Yeah, you did, Kurt thinks to himself, eyes glued to the outline of Blaine’s ass in his jeans.