February dawns, bright and windswept, and Kurt adjusts his scarf as he walks into school. Even with the icy wind blasting against his red cheeks, his insides warm at the site of Blaine’s car in the parking lot. They’d missed each other at the coffee shop this morning. But it’s early still and they’ll get to have a few minutes of quiet conversation in the classroom before his English class starts.

Bliss.

That’s probably the one word Kurt could equate to the past couple of months. Their schedule remains the same: they see each other after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays for essay grading and they fall back to Blaine’s apartment, as they also do on Friday, for time alone together under the guise of piano lessons. They had long since given up the actual lessons as Blaine felt that Kurt no longer needed instruction.

Instead, they kiss lazily on Blaine’s sofa. They flirt and giggle and whisper secrets like an honest-to-god couple that might possibly maybe probably be falling in love. Their hands will occasionally explore a smooth expanse of skin and sometimes, fingers dip down beneath denim to wring out soft cries of please and yes and moremoremore.

More, though, that never comes. While they may want more, they can’t have more. They’d known from the beginning that they can only have so much. On his part, Kurt desperately wants to learn more, feel more, touch more. He wants to ask for more. He wants everything.

But he knows Blaine can’t give it, not yet at least, not while he’s still Kurt’s teacher. Even if things did go that far, Kurt’s beginning to wonder why it would matter. It’d happen in secret, same as everything else they’ve done. No one would know. What’s the difference?

The difference is obviously the principle of the thing. To Blaine. Kurt doesn’t give a damn about the principle of the matter at this point, but he does give a damn about Blaine, which is why he hasn’t attempted to press for anything more.

He can’t help it that he wants it, though.

Beyond that, it’s been pure bliss.

“You spend a lot of time with that Mr. Anderson guy.”

Every muscle in Kurt’s body seems to seize up. It takes every ounce of sanity he possesses to not drop his fork onto his dinner plate. He looks over at Finn across the table, who continues eating as if his statement hadn’t just rocked the foundations on which Kurt’s world sits.

“Who’s Mr. Anderson?” Burt asks offhandedly as he slices another piece of grilled chicken on his plate.

The sound of silverware scratching against porcelain, the sound of Carole’s bracelet knocking against her glass of iced tea, the sound of Finn swallowing down a mouthful of food, it’s all too loud and volatile in Kurt’s ringing ears.

“English teacher,” Finn explains. “It’s his first year here.”

“He just gives me piano lessons,” Kurt puts in, hoping he doesn’t sound as terrified as he feels. “I told you I was taking them.”

“Yeah, but I see you in his classroom after school all the time,” Finn states, not even looking up from his food.

“I help him correct essays. In exchange for him giving me lessons, I mark grammar and spelling for his freshman class,” Kurt supplies.

“Does the guy really need that much help?” Finn wonders.

“If you saw the essays, you’d see just how much help he needs.”

“Yeah, but-”

“This has been happening all year,” Kurt erupts. “I don’t know why this is suddenly a topic of conversation now.”

“It’s just weird,” Finn says.

“You spend plenty of time with Mr. Schue. He helps you with your dancing and your solos all the time.”

“But Mr. Schue is – he’s just a dude.”

“To you,” Kurt snaps. “Mr. Schue and I are hardly ever on the same page. You get along with Mr. Schue and I get along with Mr. Anderson. There’s no difference.”

“Mr. Schue could’ve given you lessons if you wanted,” Finn says.

“He plays guitar, he doesn’t play piano. And I wanted piano lessons.”

“Why do you get along so well with Mr. Anderson?” Carole asks politely, genuinely interested in the man.

Kurt swallows, eyes locked on the table as he pushes the remainder of his dinner around on his plate.

“We just do,” Kurt mumbles in response.

“But why?” Finn asks, sounding honestly confused.

“Does it matter?” Kurt snaps once more, finally dropping his fork loudly onto the plate. “I never asked why Mr. Schue was the one you went to whenever that whole pregnancy debacle cropped up. He’s a teacher you respect and a teacher you trust. He’s helped you out.”

“Well yeah,” Finn concedes. “But we’ve known Mr. Schue for years now. You barely know this guy.”

“If you think I can spend three days a week with the man and not know him, then you’re delusional.”

“You’re the only one, though,” Finn says. “At least with Mr. Schue, the whole club is basically like this. But with Mr. Anderson…it’s just you.”

Kurt doesn’t know when Finn suddenly became so perceptive, but he wishes it had never happened. As it is, both his father and Carole are looking at Kurt curiously, as if they’re starting to formulate some of their own questions regarding the matter.

“This is stupid,” Kurt decides, throwing his napkin down on the table as he stands. “I have homework.”

“Now hold on,” Burt says suddenly. “This is startin’ to sound a little fishy to me.”

“No, it’s only sounding fishy because that’s where Finn’s limited knowledge of the situation is leading your thoughts,” Kurt states. “Mr. Anderson is a good teacher. He’s a nice person.”

“But-”

Carole interrupts Burt’s indignation by holding a hand up, as if to call a halt to the argument.

“Honey,” she says, looking up at Kurt with pleading eyes, “maybe if you just explained why you admire the man so much.”

Kurt’s gaze darts from Carole’s face, to his father’s suspicious eyes, to Finn’s confused expression.

“He’s gay,” Kurt blurts.

Finn’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“It wasn’t my business to tell,” Kurt argues, viciously eyeing his stepbrother. “He’s out, but not to the student body. It’s a wise choice because he might lose some of the respect he’s gained from his students, if I know this school at all. Which I do, if you recall.”

“But how does he know you’re gay?” Finn asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Really?” Kurt asks flatly.

Finn has the grace to flush under Kurt’s stare.

“If me just being me isn’t enough,” Kurt says, “it might help to know that I told him when school first started. He asked why I never spoke to anyone else in the class and I told him that the majority of them are rude to me based solely on my sexual orientation. He basically said he understood and professed, in confidence, that he was gay as well. So we have a lot in common. I can talk to him about pretty much anything.”

Burt blanches, face going white with horror at his son’s words.

“Not about that, god!” Kurt huffs in exasperation. “I just meant that he knows about being out and being gay in high school! Jesus, your mind goes straight to the gutter, dad.”

“Well you can’t blame me when you say he’s-”

“I think,” Carole speaks over her husband, “what Kurt is trying to say is that Mr. Anderson is a mentor.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says with a grateful nod in her direction.

“So you’re not…um…” Finn trails off, shifting uncomfortable in his chair.

“Finn, not everything is as sordid as your high school career,” Kurt says. “He’s just a teacher that I respect. And he’s a teacher I can talk to, more so than I ever could with Mr. Schue. Just because we’re both gay doesn’t mean – just – no.”

“I wanna meet him,” Burt says gruffly.

“…What?” Kurt asks, blood turning cold in his veins.

“I wanna meet him,” Burt says again. “I didn’t know he had such an – influence over you. And you’re my son. I wanna meet this teacher you look up to so much. I’ve talked with Schuester plenty of times, so now it’s this Mr. – what’s his name?”

“Anderson,” Finn supplies.

“Mr. Anderson’s turn,” Burt finishes.

“He’s – he doesn’t really do student-teacher conferences,” Kurt says.

“So he’ll come over here for dinner,” Burt says in a decisive tone. “It’s not really a school thing, anyway. Just a man my son spends a lot of time with. And I wanna meet him.”

Blaine gawks when Kurt informs him of the previous night’s dinner conversation.

“Your dad wants to meet me?”

“Apparently,” Kurt drawls, letting the cover of the piano keys fall shut. “Seems pretty intent on it.”

“When?”

Kurt whirls around on the piano bench to stare wide-eyed at his boyfriend. “You’re joking, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re actually going to go through with it?”

“It doesn’t really seem like I have a choice, Kurt.”

“I was going to tell him that you were too busy!”

“And he’s going to say that I should come over on one of the days that you have your lessons,” Blaine says. “It’s time that I’ve already set aside for you.”

Kurt stops.

“Shit,” he mutters. “This is going to have to happen, isn’t it?”

“Come here,” Blaine says, patting the cushion of the sofa next to his hip. When Kurt is finally seated next to him, Blaine wraps a comforting arm around his slumped shoulders and plants a kiss into his hair. “It won’t be that bad. It’s not like I’m going to play footsie with you at the dinner table or do anything that might cause them to be suspicious.”

“I don’t think you will,” Kurt sighs. “I just…after the conclusions they nearly jumped to, I can’t help but wonder what kind of questions they’ll ask.”

“I seriously doubt they’re going to straight up ask whether or not we’re sleeping together.”

“Well. At least if they did, we can truthfully say no,” Kurt mumbles.

Blaine falls silent, but Kurt can feel his arm stiffen around his shoulders.

“I thought you understood that,” Blaine says softly, dropping his arm and bringing his hands into his lap.

“I do,” Kurt sighs heavily. “I do. I’m sorry.”

“It’s obviously a sore point.”

“I can’t help it,” Kurt says. “I just – I want everything with you. I want you to be my first in everything and it seems like graduation is like, a decade away. I don’t…want anything to go wrong before then. I don’t want something to happen that might cause me to lose you before I get the chance to experience that with you.”

Blaine nods as if expressing his understanding, but he stands and moves away from Kurt. Even though there’s only a foot or so between them, it feels like a deep, mile-wide chasm.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says again.

“I know,” Blaine whispers in reply. “I don’t think you realize how it sounds, though.”

“What – what do you mean?”

Body tensing, Blaine finally turns to meet Kurt’s eyes. “Do you remember, before we went on our date?” he asks. “You said you didn’t need big declarations. You didn’t need dates, you didn’t need me announcing to the world that we were together because you said you were happy just being with me.”

“I remember.”

“When you say – that, about sex, it feels like that’s all you’re looking forward to.”

“Blaine, no, that’s not-”

“And I get that, I do. I know you’re looking forward to it because you want to experience all the things you haven’t, at least on that level. I want to give that to you,” Blaine says emphatically. “I do. And I will. But maybe I’m just…I don’t know. Maybe I’m jaded or I take it for granted because I’ve had sex before. Not that I think it won’t be more special because it’ll be with you, but-”

He falls unexpectedly quiet. Kurt stands as well, shuffling over to Blaine near the end of the sofa. He reaches down and takes Blaine’s hands in his own.

“But what?” he prompts in a near whisper.

“You want the sex because you’ve never had it before,” Blaine continues slowly. “But I…just want you. This – this thing with you, between us, I’ve never had this before. I’ve never had someone I felt like sharing every detail of my life with. I’ve never had someone whose company I enjoyed so much. Even when we’re just sitting here in the same room, even if we’re not out on the town or going out to dinner, I’m here with you. I know we put a lot of stress on the physical stuff in the beginning because we couldn’t allow it to happen while you were underage, but…it’s different now. I just want you. But it feels like that’s not enough for you.”

Kurt’s breath leaves him in a rush. He’s never seen Blaine look so broken hearted before. He’s never seen him look so lost, so helpless, not even on that afternoon when he was briefly under the misapprehension that Kurt didn’t want to go to Columbus with him.

It hurts to see.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt breathes. “I am. That was never my intention.”

“I know,” Blaine says with a nod. “It just – things like that remind me of how I used to feel in the beginning, how I thought you deserved to be with someone else. Someone your own age, I mean, where you didn’t have so many restrictions.”

“Don’t,” Kurt says immediately, angling his head down to press his forehead against Blaine’s. “I don’t want you to think like that. It makes it sound like you think you’re worth less than someone else and that’s very far from true.”

Blaine says nothing. He only lowers his eyes to the floor.

“I just thought that…you know, intimacy was supposed to be one of those things in a relationship. It’s supposed to be another way to express how you feel about someone. And I want that with you. I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was some selfish, hormonal virgin that just wanted to rid myself of my innocence.”

Huffing out a slight laugh, Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hands tighter.

“But I feel the same way, you know, about just being around you. Even when we’re not talking, I’m happier with you than I am with anyone else. But I like…touching you. I can’t help that. You make me feel…I don’t know. I can’t really describe it. I’m sorry, though. For making you feel that way. I really am.”

“Don’t be,” Blaine breathes, lifting his head and capturing Kurt’s lips in a swift, fierce kiss.

Kurt’s heart nearly stops at the intensity of it. It’s raw and passionate, like maybe Blaine is trying to breathe him in or claim him. Blaine’s hands slide down Kurt’s chest and Kurt can feel his nails through the material of his shirt. He gasps against Blaine’s lips, immediately twining one hair into Blaine’s gel-thick hair while the other sneaks around to press against the small of his back, effectively forcing him closer.

“Bedroom,” Blaine murmurs.

“But we’ve never – not here-”

“We are today,” Blaine groans, dragging Kurt down the hall in the direction of his bedroom, only to stop and shove him against a wall before they reach the door. “Christ, you don’t even know.”

He forces any possible reply from Kurt’s mind by attaching his lips to the long column of Kurt’s neck, kissing and sucking at the pale, pristine skin there. Kurt could lose himself like this, he realizes. Blaine’s lips alone are enough to drive him mad with need. He feels the very tip of Blaine’s tongue trail from his chin straight to the collar of his shirt, the cool air left behind causing his skin to prickle.

“Please,” he whines, but Blaine is already busy tugging Kurt’s sweater over his head

This is a new development, Kurt thinks, because they’ve never undressed each other before. In fact, they’ve never been properly naked together. Usually their brief, sexual escapades transpire of the safety of Blaine’s couch, as if the living room was a warning in itself to keep things safe and partially chaste. This here, with Blaine unbuttoning the warm blue shirt he had underneath his sweater, this is not going to be partially chaste.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” Blaine says, words muffled as he sucks at a spot below Kurt’s ear, as if continuing his previous train of thought. “I want it all with you, too, you gorgeous – ugh.”

With that, he finally finishes with the buttons on Kurt’s shirt and drags it off his shoulders. He drops it somewhere on the floor, but Kurt can hardly see where and it doesn’t matter if the thing is ripped to shreds because Blaine’s lips are sucking on his newly exposed collarbone, moving further south to lick at his naked chest.

Kurt whimpers deep in his throat. He shivers as the air cools his skin and clutches at Blaine’s shoulders in an attempt to ground himself while Blaine’s tongue explores his chest. His head lands with a dull thud against the wall behind him, gasping into the darkened hallway.

Quick as a shot, Blaine stands, stares into Kurt’s lust-blown eyes, and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

Kurt can’t breathe. He doesn’t know why, but he’s suddenly lost the ability to drag air into his young lungs. Blaine’s gazing at him like he’s seeing Kurt for the first time, or maybe through a new set of eyes. It’s intense, almost too intense. Only when Blaine leans in to kiss him once more does Kurt finally regain control of his breath, like he needs Blaine to breathe, needs him to live.

His world tilts. Something crashes into his heart at full speed. He doesn’t know what it is or what it means, but he does know that Blaine is the only reason he’s able to stand right now.

“Come on,” Blaine whispers against Kurt’s cheek, tugging on his hand and leading him into the bedroom.

Kurt follows, of course, though he does so on weak legs while his heart thumps erratically in his chest. Blaine leads him to the bed. He’s only ever been on there once, long before they ever officially became a couple, but when Blaine eases him onto it, he doesn’t know why he’s surprised to find that it’s just a soft and wonderful as it had been months ago.

“I can’t – I can’t give you everything, not yet,” Blaine says, voice having lost its strength. “But I can still give you something new.”

Nodding his head frantically, the jerky movement of the action causing a dizzying effect in his mind, he allows his eyes to fall shut when Blaine kisses at the soft skin of his belly. He feels the vibration of a hum from Blaine’s lips as he makes to unbutton Kurt’s pants, dragging the zipper down slowly.

Kurt sighs when the pressure against his erection is lessened, but gasps when he feels Blaine’s palm press, heavy and warm against him through his underwear.

All at once, he knows exactly where this is going.

His suspicions are confirmed when Blaine hooks his fingers into the hem of Kurt’s jeans and underwear, dragging them slowly over his hips, down, down, down his legs to finally drop on the floor at the edge of the bed. As an afterthought, he rids Kurt of his socks as well and plants a gentle kiss to Kurt’s ankle. His lips move up Kurt’s calf, and so, too, do his hands. Blaine’s palms and fingertips graze softly against skin on their journey upwards, his tongue peeking out to tickle at that sensitive spot just behind Kurt’s knee.

Kurt’s body wracks with shivers. By the time Blaine is kissing at his inner thigh with his thumbs caressing his hip bones, Kurt feels like he’s falling apart.

“P-please,” Kurt stutters.

“Patience, darling,” Blaine says in a low voice. “You want me to give you all your firsts. I want to make it special.”

Kurt doesn’t really care if they’re nestled up in some cozy cabin in the Swiss Alps or lazing on a beach in Maui or basking in the glory of their damn honeymoon, he just needs Blaine’s mouth on him now or he’s going to come completely undone.

Instead, Blaine nuzzles his nose in the crook of Kurt’s hip and sighs, like he’s in ecstasy by simple being allowed this opportunity. He wraps one hand around the base of Kurt’s erection before dragging his hand up, ever so fucking slowly until his thumb is tracing the head.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” Blaine says.

And those are his last words before his mouth is finally there, sucking and licking in this gloriously erotic fashion. Kurt moans, long and low into the room at the sensation of wet heat surrounding him. He didn’t think anything could ever feel as good as Blaine’s hands on him, but good god, he was so very, very wrong.

“I – oh, god,” he whimpers, fingers twisting into Blaine’s hair because he isn’t quite sure what else to do with his hands.

Blaine moans around him when he does, so he figures he’s doing something right. But – but the heat and the suction and the perfect twist of Blaine’s wrist as his hand continues to pump him in time with the motion of his mouth – it’s too good.

Kurt is suddenly very aware that he won’t last long at all.

He vainly attempts to tug Blaine off of him, if only so he can kiss him and last a bit longer than two minutes but Blaine just won’t allow it. Instead, he moves his free hand from its spot on Kurt’s hip to press firmly down on Kurt’s chest, as if to tell him that it’s okay, that he understands. At a loss, Kurt disentangles one of his hands from Blaine’s hair and grasps Blaine’s hand on his chest. Blaine squeezes his fingers in reassurance, lips and tongue never faltering during the exchange.

Kurt finds he can’t stop the sounds in the back of his throat, the soft little whimpers that escape in time with the motion of Blaine’s head moving over the length of Kurt’s dick. Blaine’s tongue begins to flick in an effortless rhythm against the underside and Kurt teeters on the edge. He squeezes Blaine’s hand so tightly, muscles constricting in his arm to the point where it begins to tremble. Heat coils furiously in his belly, sensation stretching his limbs taut and with one final twist of Blaine’s wrist, Kurt comes.

He comes on Blaine’s tongue, crying out loudly into the room as tears begin to pool in the corners of his eyes. It’s so fucking intense, dragging on for what seems like hours in the span of a few seconds, and his hips jerk up at their own accord. Kurt pants, throat dry and scratchy, until he can’t help but whine at the last lick Blaine gives him before crawling up to lay on the bed.

Blaine promptly tucks Kurt against him, wrapping Kurt’s shuddering body up in his warm arms. He presses soft kisses into Kurt’s hair as he comes down from the high, waiting patiently for Kurt to come back to himself.

On Kurt’s part, his mind is reeling from the intensity of his orgasm. He’s pretty sure he’s never come so hard in his life, not even by his own hand.

“Jesus Christ,” Kurt states, though his throat is so dry that he nearly coughs.

He can feel the low rumble of laughter in Blaine’s chest as he chuckles above him.

“I take it you enjoyed that, then?” Blaine asks innocently.

Kurt only snorts in reply.

“I’m glad,” Blaine says, pressing another kiss to the top of Kurt’s head.

“If I had the energy, I’d repay the favor.”

“We have plenty of time for you to try your hand at blowjobs,” Blaine quips.

Kurt doesn’t make the obvious vulgar joke he could there, instead deciding to curl up more against Blaine’s side.

“I’m still stealing your bed,” Kurt says. “Don’t think your magical mouth can dissuade me.”

“And I’m still going to meet your dad.”

“Shit.”

Later that night, Blaine tries not to think about how close he’d been to giving Kurt the everything he had mentioned previously. For a scant few seconds, as he looked into Kurt’s eyes in that darkened hallway, the words very nearly tumbled out of his mouth.

Because he hasn’t forgotten that this is all he’ll ever have with Kurt. He hasn’t forgotten that, soon after graduation, Kurt will move on and find someone new. He knows that he’ll probably only have the one chance to show him the last bit of everything before Kurt’s away in New York, living his life.

Blaine feels selfish. He doesn’t want just once.

He wants to give Kurt everything for as long as possible.

Maybe, he thinks dangerously, maybe he wants to give Kurt everything forever.

What if they don’t like me?

They’ll like you just fine.

What if they say I can’t give you lessons anymore?

They won’t.

What if your dad thinks I’m a bad influence instead of a good one? What if he tries to kill me?

Ummm

KURT!

I’m kidding. Stop worrying. You’re worrying more than I was when he first told me he wanted to meet you.

That was before I realized that he could actually forbid me from seeing you!

He won’t. Just be your usual charming self.

…You think I’m charming?

Don’t push your luck, Mr. Anderson.

I’m leaving my apartment now. Hide the guns and sharp objects.

Kurt slips his phone back into his pocket and rolls his eyes at the empty kitchen.

Forcibly stopping himself from racing to the door the moment the bell rings, Kurt strides through the living room with as much grace and calm as he can muster. When he wrenches open the door, he finds Blaine standing on his doorstep looking thoroughly shaken.

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about, remember?” Kurt whispers. “You’re just my teacher. That’s all they know.”

Giving a shaky nod, Blaine inhales deeply several times before nodding, a small smile on his lips.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt says in an easy voice. “I know you must have been busy.”

“It’s not a problem, Kurt. I’ll be glad to finally meet your father.”

Kurt shoots Blaine a look as he ushers him inside and closes the doors. It’s a look that says, “Don’t try so hard.” Blaine shrugs in an attempt to respond, “What else was I supposed to say?”

“Hey, Mr. Anderson,” Finn greets, the first of the family to see them.

“Hey, Finn,” Blaine replies with a smile. “I always forget you two are brothers.”

“Just step brothers,” Finn says, shrugging and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Otherwise the past couple of years with Kurt would have been really wei-”

“Can we not?” Kurt snaps with a warning glare to his brother.

A flush rises to Finn’s cheeks.

“Come on, dad and Carole are in the living room,” Kurt says, leading them all away from the door and further into the house. He clears his throat and waits for his dad to mute the television. “Dad, Carole, this is Mr. Anderson.”

Oh, god. Kurt didn’t even think about the height difference. Carole’s just taller than Blaine, but only barely, meaning that his dad nearly towers over him. Not exactly in the way that Finn does, but still. Kurt can see the knob in Blaine’s throat bob as he swallows his fear.

“It’s wonderful to meet you both,” Blaine says graciously, holding out his hand to Carole first.

Kurt knows that Blaine does it with a sense of propriety, that whole ladies first business, but he doesn’t like the look his dad gives his teacher when he doesn’t shake his hand first.

“Same to you,” Burt says brusquely when they finally shake hands.

“Thank you so much for coming over,” Carole gushes with a smile. “We hope you weren’t too busy.”

“Not at all,” Blaine says, returning her grin. “Kurt’s to thank for that. If he didn’t help me with the freshmen essays, I’d be drowning in grammar corrections right now.”

Kurt blushes pink. Hoping to take the focus off him for a few minutes, he announces that dinner is waiting on the table and that they should probably eat before everything gets cold.

Only once they’re settled at the table with food on their plates does Burt finally speak up again.

“So you look kinda young to be a teacher, Anderson.”

“I get that a lot,” Blaine informs. “I graduated from Ashland University when I was twenty-two and taught eighth grade for two years before I started teaching at McKinley. I’m twenty-five now. I’ll be twenty-six in July.”

“Looks like you’re blessed with youth,” Carole says in good humor.

“Guess so,” Blaine says. “Wish I were a bit taller, though.”

Kurt grins. He’ll have to tease Blaine about his height more often. After a long moment of silence, Burt finally speaks up again.

“Hear you’ve gotten pretty close to my son,” he says.

Scowling, Kurt eyes his father with contempt. He had said the phrase ‘my son’ with too much of a possessive air.

“I like to think we’ve become friendly,” Blaine replies slowly, his words carefully chosen.

“‘Cause he’s gay, too?” Burt presumes.

“It’s…more than that, I think,” Blaine says.

Kurt immediately panics, staring openly at Blaine from across the table. What the hell are you doing, Kurt thinks. His grip on his fork tightens in terrified anticipation of Blaine’s next words.

“We can relate on a certain level,” Blaine explains, “when it comes to school. I remember what it was like to be out in high school. I didn’t have the…easiest time with it either.”

Of course, Kurt recalls them sharing tales of their pasts one afternoon on a rainy day. It had been early on, before it was cold enough to snow outside, and Kurt had confessed to the bullying he had suffered in previous years. Blaine knew about the dumpster tossing and the myriad of outfit changes due to the repeated slushie tosses. He knew how every subtle, scathing comment had dented Kurt’s hardened exterior. He knew about the incidents with Karofsky, who, to this day, remains at McKinley, and how Kurt nearly transferred schools during his junior year due to a death threat that never came to fruition.

In return, Blaine had shared his secrets as well.

“I spent three years in private school after my freshman year at a public school turned disastrous,” Blaine admits quietly.

Burt and Carole exchange glances, but it’s Carole who reaches a hand over to touch Blaine’s shoulder in a show of sympathy.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she says, as if Blaine is just another one of Kurt’s troubled teenage friends. “You don’t have to talk about it, not here.”

“But I do,” Blaine says in determination. “I get the feeling you wanted to meet me in order to make sure that I wasn’t taking advantage of your son or doing anything…untoward. So I think my retelling of my past might help you understand why we gravitate toward each other.”

Carole smiles, doing her best to emphasize her supportive nature as she drops her hand. On Kurt’s part, he worries his lower lip between his teeth. It isn’t a habit he’s proud of, or one he indulges in often. He knows how difficult it had been for Blaine to broach this topic months ago, so the fact that Blaine is willing to discuss this with his parents in order to give them a valid, somewhat honest reason as to their frequent meetings is really quite moving in Kurt’s eyes. He’s doing this to protect what they really have behind closed doors, to give the illusion that they’re simply two young men with similar pasts and a need for a shoulder to lean on.

“I came out at the beginning of my freshman year, oblivious to the repercussions I might incur,” Blaine begins. “There was an immediate backlash. I was ridiculed, people would spit on me in the hallways, trip me when I was just trying to get to class with my head down. I was harassed and shoved around, much like Kurt. At the end of the year, my only friend, the only other gay guy in the school, agreed to go to this Sadie Hawkins dance with me. Nothing happened at the dance, really. We just had a good time and looked like idiots along with the rest of the school. Later that night, though, when we were waiting for his dad to pick us up, a bunch of guys caught us off guard and jumped us.”

Even though Blaine doesn’t look at anyone in particular as he tells his story, Kurt still gives him a sad, understanding smile. He hears Carole’s sharp intake of breath as the imagery of the memory settles into her mind. Even Burt looks uncomfortable, like maybe he’s sorry he brought all this on in the first place, though none of this is really his doing. Finn’s not looking at anybody; in fact, he’s just frowning down at his dinner.

“They essentially beat us both within an inch of our lives,” Blaine continues. “After that, my friend and his parents moved to a different state. When I was in the hospital, I had to beg my parents to let me transfer schools because I couldn’t handle another three years there.”

“They shoulda done something about it before then,” Burt pipes up. “It ain’t right to sit by and watch your kid suffer.”

Blaine nods. “I agree. And that’s the thing.” He looks to Burt with something like despair in his wide, honey eyes. “Kurt’s told me a lot about you, sir. I envy your relationship with him a great deal. I wish to god my father had been as understanding and supportive as you have to your son. Because, maybe if he had, I’d have had half the strength Kurt has. He’s a good person. He’s a wonderful young man and I respect him more than you probably know. While I may be a few years older, Kurt has more courage in one finger than I think I ever had in me entire body and it astounds me. Being around him, I think, makes me a better person. I only hope I can help him half as much.”

Kurt brushes away a stray tear that escapes from the corner of his eye. Burt Hummel swallows thickly.

“Courage comes in all shapes and sizes, Anderson,” Burt states in a soft voice, one that Kurt knows he reserves for his very serious discussions. He looks to Kurt, an apology plain on his face. “And I gotta thank you. I do what I can for Kurt, but I know can’t, uh, relate to everything he’s goin’ through. So…thanks. For being there for my kid when I can’t.”

Quite suddenly, Kurt wishes he could tell everything to his dad. He wishes he could tell him just how very happy Blaine makes him, he wish he could tell him that it’s more than just respect, more than just understanding between them. Because, while he’s sure everything Blaine had just told his father is completely true, he’s terrified of this all unraveling and revealing the true nature of their relationship, only to incur his father’s wrath after Blaine has worked so very hard and practically spilled his heart out to keep them both safe.

He’s stuck, Kurt realizes, between a very heavy rock and an equally hard place. He can tell his father everything, and pray to a being he doesn’t believe in, in hopes of his father possibly understanding the situation and supporting them wholeheartedly, or he can tell his father everything, only to have him explode and bring down the justice of the school board and the legal system on Blaine in an instant.

However, as Kurt looks to Blaine, he knows he can’t take the risk. Beyond Blaine meaning so much to him, personally, he’s a fantastic teacher. He’s one of the best teachers they have at McKinley, one of those teachers who can really help a teenager understand the material.

He’s too remarkable a person to put in danger.

So Kurt keeps his mouth shut.

“What did you and my dad talk about after dinner?” Kurt asks through the phone receiver, sure to be as quiet as possible during a last minute, late night conversation with his boyfriend. He huddles underneath his sheets, breathing in the inky dark of midnight.

“Not much,” Blaine replies. “I did…ask his permission to remain in contact with you after you graduate.”

Oh. That makes sense, actually. If they gave the impression that they were still just friends in contact with one another, it might not be such a big issue when their relationship eventually came to light in the future. Of course, they’d have to pretend that it was a new development and they couldn’t give away the fact that they’d begun dating while Kurt was still Blaine’s student.

“What’d he say?” Kurt wonders.

“He basically said that you were pretty much an adult now and you had the right to choose your friends, that it wasn’t his place to get in the middle of something that was beneficial to both of us. He sort if, in his own way, I guess, said he appreciated the fact that I’d asked, though.”

“Sounds like my dad,” Kurt agrees with a muffled giggle.

“You’re very lucky to have him.”

“Did you – I mean, all that stuff you said about me at dinner…you really meant it.”

“Of course I meant it,” Blaine admits softly.

“My dad was right,” Kurt tells him. “Courage comes in all shapes and sizes. I stayed at McKinley because I needed to be near my friends. You left your old school because you needed the chance at a new beginning. That takes a lot of courage too, you know, to just up and leave everything you know for something you don’t.”

The scratchy sounds of sniffling greets Kurt’s ear through the phone. He never meant to make this night an emotional one, just like he never meant Blaine to offer up such raw emotions at dinner in front of his family.

“I wanted to tell him,” Kurt whispers. “I wanted to tell him everything about us.”

“I know,” Blaine says, surprising Kurt. “I could see it written all over your face.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“No,” Blaine laughs, though Kurt can still hear the tears in his voice. “To me, probably, because I’m part of the whole situation. But not to anyone else.”

“Sorry.”

“I wanted to tell him, too.”

“You did?”

“He’s a good man, your dad. I felt like some type of cunning chess master, playing on his emotions that way. He stopped focusing on the potential harm I could be causing and thought only of the good I might bring to your life. Which is what we needed to convey, I know. But it’s…hard. It’s hard now, knowing how much trust he’s given me.” There’s a long pause and short, frustrated sigh on Blaine’s end of the call. “Christ, if he knew what I’d done to you-”

“Stop it,” Kurt snaps, keeping his voice quiet. “You haven’t done anything to me. I don’t want you thinking like that anymore. Ever again. It takes two to tango, remember?”

“It was easy enough to forget about it,” Blaine states. “Meeting your family and manipulating them into thinking I’m nothing but good for you turns the tables.”

“Stop it,” Kurt says again, voice wavering as a sob clogs his throat and tears threaten to fall. “Stop – stop making yourself sound like something evil.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine weeps openly now. “I can’t – I can’t help it. I’m just this – and you – but you’ll forget me and I can’t-”

“Blaine, what’re you talking about?” Kurt begs to know. “What-”

“You’ll leave,” Blaine cries, wrecked and broken. “You’ll leave me and I’ll never-”

“I’m not leaving you,” Kurt states. “I don’t know where you got that idea, but I’m not leaving you.”

“But you will. You’ll graduate and you’ll run away to New York and I’ll never see you again, Kurt. I’ll never see you again because you’ll have this shiny, new life with all these new friends and you won’t think twice about the stupid teacher that stole your firsts and-”

“I’m coming over,” Kurt says, not caring a whit about the time or the fact that they both have to be at school in the morning.

“Don’t you dare!” Blaine hisses. “If your dad catches you sneaking out-”

“Everyone’s dead asleep,” Kurt says. “They won’t even know I’m gone. I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes.”

“Kurt-”

Kurt ends the call. He refuses to let Blaine think this way. How long has he been in this mindset? How long has he thought that Kurt is just going to up and abandon him? How long has he thought so little of himself, thought that Kurt cared so little that he’d –

No.

This ends tonight.

Kurt hasn’t even bothered to pull on proper clothes. By the time he whips into a parking space at Blaine’s apartment complex, he’s still in a pair of thin pajamas covered by the nearest winter coat he could grab. He stomps up the stairs in his snow boots to Blaine’s front door, knocking only twice.

“You idiot,” Blaine says in a near shriek, yanking Kurt inside and slamming the door behind them. “It’s almost one in the morning!”

“I don’t care,” Kurt bites out, pulling off his coat and tossing it on the ground before doing the same to his heavy boots.

“You need to go home right n-”

“I’m not going anywhere until I make you believe that you’re not some monster who’s ripping away my innocence! I’m not going anywhere until I make you believe that I’m not going to abandon you for some – some stupid little boy the first chance I get!”

“You should!” Blaine grinds out. “You should get the chance to live your life and experience everything!”

“I want to experience it with you, you ass!”

Blaine takes a step back.

“And I don’t just mean sex,” Kurt says. “I want to experience life with you, Blaine. I want to get my first apartment in New York and I want you to be with me. I want to get a fish or a stupid, potted plant that we become way too attached to and I want us to shop for furniture together. I want to go to class and get a job and I want to come home to you trying to cook dinner even though I know you can’t cook anything more than spaghetti at this point. But I want to teach you to cook and I want you to tell me it’s okay when I don’t get the lead in a musical or when I don’t get some job at this big fashion editorial magazine. I want you to go back to school so you can teach music and then I want you to come home and complain about all the jerks in your classes and praise all the stars you’ll help make and I want to bring you coffee in the middle of the day and I want it all with you!”

Blaine falls speechless, eyes glistening and brimming with unshed tears. Kurt feels like he’s made Blaine cry far too much today.

But he has to make him understand. So Kurt steps toward Blaine and frames his face with his freezing hands.

“I may be young,” he breathes. “I maybe be young and stupid and naïve and too full of hope but I’m old enough to know how I feel. And I know what I feel for you is real. I’m old enough to know that I’m in love with you and I don’t care – I don’t care about the rules and I don’t care what anyone else thinks! I care about you.”

“K-Kurt-”

“But I’ll follow the stupid rules because we have to. We’ll keep this a secret because I don’t want to ruin your life or see you tossed in jail because someone thinks I can’t make up my own mind. But I won’t let you think this way anymore! I won’t!”

Blaine stumbles forward, crashing their lips together in a kiss that causes all of the previous ones to splinter and become part of a distant, warm memory that Kurt will cherish forever. Because this, this moment, the way they cling to each other, the way Kurt rips Blaine’s t-shirt over his head, the way Blaine pries Kurt’s pajama top open so hastily that the buttons scatter across the floor, this is now, this is real, and this is what they’re about. This is what it’s always been about.

It’s always only ever been a love story.

“I’ll come with you,” Blaine gasps between the kisses he presses to Kurt’s jaw. “I will, I’ll come with you.” He drags his fingers down Kurt’s smooth back. “Let me come with you.”

“Yes,” Kurt exhales, “please.”

Blaine drags his lips away, arms still wrapped around Kurt’s thin waist. He gazes up at Kurt and his emotions flit across his glassy eyes but Kurt can recognize each and every single one; there’s adoration and lust, followed by too much fear and a brief, fleeting glimmer of hope behind a screen of – of something Kurt’s never seen before.

“I love you, too, Kurt.”

Of course that’s what it is.

Kurt smiles brightly and angles his head down to capture Blaine’s lips in another kiss. An unspoken agreement passes between them. Those rules they were so wary of, they don’t exist here anymore. Beyond that door, just outside the windows, that’s where the rules belong. But not in here, not where two warm bodies stumble into a bedroom and lay flush against a cool set of clean sheets. No laws against love, not here. There’s no jury, no judge, no school board, no outraged parents.

It’s just naked skin on skin, writhing in sweat despite the slightest crack of an open window where chilly, winter air tips inside to bite at their toes. It’s just messy kisses and eager hands and curious fingers. It’s just pleasepleaseplease and shhh I’ve got you and the steady stretch of a first time and the harsh gasp of ohgod this is what it’s like and morepleaseyes.

It’s the ache and burn and pleasure of I Love You that translates from words to motion.

It’s the last bit of something new and the beginning of what’s left of everything.

“I should make you go home,” Blaine whispers as he cards his fingers through Kurt’s sweaty hair.

“But you won’t,” Kurt teases, his naked body curling into Blaine’s amidst the sweaty sheets.

“No. I won’t.”

Kurt sighs happily when Blaine tugs the comforter over them, protecting them against the cold breeze through the cracked window.

“I have clothes in my car,” Kurt mumbles when his eyes refuse to stay open any longer. “I’ll get ‘em in the morning.”

“It’s morning already,” Blaine informs as he snuggles deeper under the covers.

“Not morning ‘till I wake up next to you.”

With that, Kurt allows sleep to take him, safely held and entirely at ease with his ear to Blaine’s heart.

He sleeps without fear of being seen when he rushes to his car to gather his spare clothes. He dreams without knowing that he’ll be seen by someone who doesn’t understand them at all. He has no idea, not yet, that the morning sun might destroy everything he holds dear.