Being Blaine Anderson's shiny new friend feels remarkably like not being his friend at all, save for the fact that Blaine sits next to him during Glee rehearsals more often than not. It's weird, though, because he doesn't say much more than ‘hey' or ‘what's up' before he has a lap-full of Rachel Berry. Kurt does receive a few texts from him outside of school, but they're about as lame and pointless as text messages can be.

What's up, Kurt?

Not much.

How was your day?

It was alright. Yours?

Pretty good. Excited about the new number in Glee?

I guess so. Wish we did more Broadway, though.

Yeah, that'd be cool.

Yeah.

Gotta meet Rachel now. Talk to you later!

Okay, have fun.

Will do.

Actually, their text message conversations border on pathetic, and Kurt wonders if Blaine's just doing it out of the kindness of his heart rather than any actual interest in Kurt's life. Either way, something nice and warm settles in his chest whenever he sees Blaine's name pop up on the screen of his phone. For a while, that's enough to keep him sane after their steamy make-out session on Rachel's couch.

Until it's not.

Blaine's kisses greet him in his dreams nearly every night, accurately reconstructed to include sound and the heavy feeling of Blaine's hand on his cheek. First there's the kiss itself, but then there's the moans and groans and the sounds of their lips sliding wetly, followed by the comforting weight of Blaine's hips pressing him down into the sofa. Kurt always jolts awake just as soon as he remembers the taste of Blaine's tongue - and then he finds that he has to change his underwear because they're too sticky-cool to sleep in. The whole process is maddening.

On top of all of that, there's the most peculiar thing:

About once or twice a week, Kurt will look up from his locker or he'll glance over Mercedes' shoulder in the middle of a conversation to find Blaine staring at him from the other end of the hall. As soon as their eyes meet, Blaine offers him this fleeting half-smile before looking back to Rachel and tugging her closer to his side.

Kurt has no idea what the hell is going on. Blaine is straight. He gets that. He knew it the moment their lips first touched during spin the bottle. So why does Blaine feel the need to make that point over and over when they occasionally make eye contact? He understands why Blaine did what he did for him, but the aftermath of it just doesn't make sense in Kurt's head. Some days, he wishes he had someone he could talk to about all of this. He still hasn't told Mercedes about kissing Blaine at the party, and it's a blessing that the other kids were apparently too drunk to remember most of the night, so they don't bring it up either. Finn remembers, of course, but Kurt thinks he's probably a little too weirded out to mention it at all. Plus, Kurt doesn't think he can convince Finn to have a chat just so Kurt can discuss his crush on one of his brother's very straight friends.

Yeah, that's never going to happen.

He's not exactly sure why he doesn't feel comfortable telling Mercedes, though. She's his best friend. She knows every last detail in regards to his crush on Blaine. She'd probably be excited about the fact that he had his first kiss. But she also might be a little bitter, considering she was supposed to attend the party, too. If she'd been able to, she would have gotten the chance to play spin the bottle and maybe she would've had a lip lock with Sam, who she thinks is super-white-boy-cute, if Kurt remembers her exact words. But that didn't happen. So maybe Kurt just doesn't want to rub it in her face.

It's probably better to keep the kiss to himself anyway, Kurt decides. God only knows how fast gossip travels in this school and Kurt will not risk Blaine becoming upset with him over some sort of slip up. Sure, Blaine had seemed okay with kissing Kurt in front of their Glee friends, but that doesn't mean he wants the entire school to know that he locked lips with a fa-

Kurt cuts off his own train of thought.

He won't be self deprecating today.

A month and a half later, Kurt is still reeling from finally knowing what it feels like to kiss Blaine, and he's even more confused than he had been a couple of weeks ago. And he hates it. He hates their pseudo-friendship. He hates the looks and the stupid, meaningless texts that never lead to actual friend things, like hanging out or discussing their lives. He hates that Blaine sits next to him in Glee but never talks to him, and he hates that Blaine winked - actually winked - at him during rehearsal yesterday for no reason at all. What's more is that he hates the fact that he can't get Blaine out of his head, that he can't forget the feel of his lips or his hips, and he hates that this entire venture is pointless because Blaine is straight and he's dating Rachel and Kurt has no chance whatsoever.

But it isn't until he's at the Lima Bean with Mercedes one day when he really snaps. It's almost Thanksgiving, and it's too cold to walk around the outdoor mall like they'd planned, so they're sitting at a table and gossiping over mochas with Rachel, Finn, Quinn, and Santana seated at a table a few feet behind them. It's pretty stupid that Kurt and Mercedes never receive an invitation to join considering they all just got out of Glee rehearsal half an hour ago, but that's the way it is.

Blaine walks in the door and heads straight for the line, not even noticing his own girlfriend because he's too preoccupied with what looks to be the last slice of pumpkin bread. He's dressed to a tee, Kurt notes, dashing in his dark coat and cozy scarf, and his hair doesn't have quite as much gel in it today after they all sweated so much during rehearsal.

            "There he is," Kurt sighs softly, barely loud enough for Mercedes to hear. "Dreamy as ever."

            "You just keep on dreaming," Mercedes says under her breath, sure to give a smile as she does.

Yeah. Kurt has absolutely no problem in that department.

It's hard to tear his eyes away, though. Blaine just looks so good. The loud scratching sound of chair legs sliding across the floor causes him to cringe, and then Rachel's rushing past their table in a hurry to greet her boyfriend.

            "Hey, Rachel, what's going on - mmf," Blaine attempts to say, but his words are cut short because his annoying, attention-seeking girlfriend decides to plant a huge, wet kiss on his lips rather than offering a sweet little hello or a quick peck like most girls would do in public.

Kurt almost gags at the sight. Blaine squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, but when he opens them again, he appears to catch sight of Kurt and his eyebrows nearly shoot up into his hairline. After a second or two of looking like he's just been caught doing something illegal, Blaine shuts his eyes tight once again and cradles Rachel's entire face in his palms. When their lips part, there's that gross, smacking sound that sets Kurt's teeth on edge when it's not happening to him, and Blaine offers Rachel a broad, infectious smile.

            "I missed you," Rachel says, latching onto Blaine's lapel.

            "Babe, you just saw me thirty minutes ago."

            "I know," Rachel replies with a happy shrug. "But I never get enough chances to do that."

            "I guess we'll...have to make more?" Blaine says, clearly hazarding a guess.

            "Correct. Come sit with us."

            "I'll be there in a second. I just - here, take my bag. I gotta run to the restroom."

Rachel takes his bag willingly, and just before Blaine turns around to head to the bathroom, his eyes cut to Kurt once more.

That's it. Kurt is done. He is so tired of being on the end of those glances when Blaine is around Rachel and he is tired of not understanding why it's happening. He's not sure why today is suddenly the day for answers, but he's been driving himself crazy with questions and confusion for over a month now and he's not going to let it happen anymore. Something wild and angry burns hot in his chest, and there's only one way it's going to cease.

            "I'll be right back," he says to Mercedes.

            "Where are you-"

            "Just - my hands are sticky from the danish and I need to wash them. I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

            "O...kay?"

Kurt shuffles quickly to the restroom, hoping none of their other teammates notice him leaving the table, and pushes open the door just behind Blaine.

            "What was that?" Kurt asks bluntly, glad that this isn't a single occupant bathroom.

            "Wha - oh, hey, Kurt," Blaine greets. "I didn't even know you were here."

            "Bullshit," Kurt says, crossing his arms, prepared for a fight. "You saw me. I know you did because you looked right at me when you were kissing her, the same way you do all the time now."

            "I don't - what are you talking about?" Blaine asks, eyes darting around the small space as if looking for another escape route.

            "Don't pretend like you don't know. Every time you see me, you - you kiss her or you pull her closer. I get it, okay? You're straight. I'm not an idiot."

            "But I don't-"

            "I don't know if you're doing it to prove that point to me or to everybody else, but no one is questioning your sexuality. No one at that party even remembers that we kissed. So you can just stop using her as your straight-affirming tool or whatever is you're doing. I knew you were straight from the start so you don't have to worry about me having some - some stupid crush!"

Blaine blanches, face going paler than Kurt has ever seen, and he look properly horrified.

            "I don't know what you're talking about," Blaine replies quickly. "Please stop yelling at me."

            "Why did you even say you wanted to be my friend if you're not going to be my friend?" Kurt continues, because now that he's started, he's finding it too hard to stop. Every little thing that's been scratching away, everything that's been bothering him about Blaine has suddenly decided to make itself known right now. "You sit next to me but you don't talk to me, you smile at me in the hall but you don't ever come up to me, and you text me for no reason at all and it's like you don't even care! I mean, after you were so nice to me I really thought that things might change but it just got weird and I don't understand because I - it's not like the kissing made it weird, at least not to me, it's you that's making it weird and I don't understand why-"

            "Would you - can you just stop?" Blaine practically begs, sounding angrier than Kurt's ever seen. "Would you stop yelling and acting like I'm committing some crime when I have no idea what you're talking about?"

            "I find it really hard to believe that you don't know what I'm talking about when it's been happening for over a month!"

            "Whatever, just stop yelling," Blaine hisses through his teeth, looking pointedly to the door behind Kurt.

            "Oh, right," Kurt drawls, "because your precious friends were too drunk to remember that you kissed me, so you're off the hook if no one brings it up ever again. Your reputation is completely safe, so long as no one talks about how you kissed the school fag."

Blaine's face darkens, something sinister falling about him as he relaxes his stance, crossing his arms in front of him.

            "You know what, if this is how you're going to act about, then yeah, that's exactly why," he states, glaring at Kurt through narrowed eyes.

Feeling as if he's just been shot, Kurt's jaw snaps shut and he takes a timid, terrified step backwards.

            "You - you don't mean that," Kurt whispers because he hadn't meant to say what he did and he'll be crushed if Blaine really thinks that about him.

            "Of course I don't mean that," Blaine snaps. "Christ, do you think I'd volunteer to kiss you a second time if I did? But this is not the place to be having this conversation."

            "I just - I want to understand why-"

            "Kurt," Blaine sighs, combing his hand through his hair in frustration, "have you ever considered the fact that it's not about you?"

With that, Blaine shoves right past Kurt, who feels rooted to the spot, and exits the bathroom without so much as a ‘see you later'. Kurt stares at his reflection in the mirror across the small space, taking in his pallid skin and wide, soulful eyes. For all he's learned about the world, he has no idea what to do or say to make any of this better. He does know that he can't go back out there and sit next to Mercedes while pretending that nothing is wrong, not with Blaine ten feet away with his arm around Rachel's shoulders, but it'll look weird if he just grabs his bag and tells Mercedes that he wants to leave. That might spawn all sorts of questions that he can't answer.

He straightens his coat, attempting to appear somewhat normal when really he's a mess inside, and texts Mercedes to meet him outside with his bag. He leaves the bathroom and heads straight for the door, not allowing himself to spare a glance in Blaine's direction. It only takes a few seconds for Mercedes to meet him by car, his bag in hand, demanding an explanation.

            "I just want to go home," he says tiredly. "I've had a shitty day and all I want to do is change into my pajamas and make myself sick on chocolate ice cream."

            "But we always tell each other about our shitty days," Mercedes says, handing Kurt his bag. "That's what friends are for."

            "I know," Kurt says, offering what he hopes is kind smile. "But I don't feel like talking today."

When Kurt is finally alone in his bedroom, the house is empty and just quiet enough to give him the opportunity to think. He kicks off his shoes, tugs off his coat, and falls onto his bed. Everything in his life feels hopeless right now, and he feels like he's been running in circles with no clear direction ever since Blaine transferred during sophomore year. He's been chasing after a boy who can't love him back - not because he doesn't want to, but because he can't. Kurt understands that Blaine is straight and that he's obviously dealing with...whatever he's dealing with right now. But he has to admit to himself that he has been clinging to some possibility, some fantasy, in hopes that Blaine might just tip toe over to his team and then maybe they could kiss and becomes boyfriends and move out of Ohio and live happily ever after.

Now, though, the more he lingers on the issue, he realizes exactly how stupid he's been to even dream.

Blaine is straight. He has a girlfriend. They probably have very straight sex every chance they get and Blaine doesn't spare Kurt a second thought during their teenage trysts. And while it hurts to admit it to himself, that's the way things are and Kurt can't change that, not even by being Blaine's friend or going to parties or hanging around him during West Side Story rehearsals.

Fantasies are for children, Kurt decides, and he's not a little boy anymore. Having a crush doesn't automatically mean he'll get a boyfriend, and chasing after a straight guy won't get him one either. It's time to grow up. It's time to end the pity party and put himself out there. He's never going to find a boyfriend if he sits at home all the time or by hiding behind Mercedes or a gallon of chocolate ice cream. He could wait until college to actively seek out a partner, but now that he's had a kiss and now that he knows what it can feel like, he doesn't want to wait. He's lonely. He loves Mercedes to death, and she'll always be his best friend, but she can't fill the boyfriend-shaped hole in his heart. And he wants that experience. He wants to hold hands and go on dates and make out in the back row of the movie theater. He wants the shy looks and the nervous giggles and even though he wants it all with Blaine, he can't have Blaine.

So maybe it's time to start looking elsewhere. And maybe Blaine will get over whatever's going on in his head and they can share some type of platonic friendship, even if Kurt will always remember that Blaine holds his first kiss.

Scandals is nothing like Kurt had imagined.

For one, there's far less glitter than he'd expected, and two, everyone just seems kind of...old.

He has no idea how his fake ID had gotten him through the door, considering he'd only paid Puck fifty dollars to find him one, plus an extra twenty to keep the transaction a secret. Kurt doesn't think he looks like a Chaz and he certainly doesn't look like he's from Hawaii, but the thing had served its purpose and now he's standing here, completely out of his element, in a gay bar. An outsider probably wouldn't even be able to tell that it was a gay bar if it wasn't for the massive rainbow flag on the wall and the two guys practically dry humping in the corner.

Kurt feels his cheeks warm at the sight, and he quickly averts his gaze, keeping his head down as he makes a beeline for the bar. He's kind of disappointed to find that there's no menu or anything to pick a drink from because he has no clue what to order. Just as well, he probably shouldn't drink at all. But like the shot Santana had given him at the party, he thinks he might be able to relax a bit if he has something alcoholic flowing through his bloodstream.

            "What can I get you?" the bartender, a fifty something woman with bright red hair asks him.

            "Uh..."

The woman chuckles at what must be Kurt's lost expression before tossing him a wink and a nod.

            "First timer?" she asks.

            "That easy to tell?"

            "I get kids like you in here all the time," she explains. "Barely legal and totally clueless. They usually only come back once or twice before they realize this isn't exactly their demographic."

            "There's not much of a choice in Lima," Kurt says.

            "Sadly, very fucking true," she says and Kurt can't help but laugh. If nothing else, he can just spend an hour talking to the bartender. "You ever had a shirley temple? You look like a shirley temple kinda guy. I'll give you one with a kick."

            "Thank you," Kurt says, feeling very grateful for the fact that she seems to be able to read him so well.

While the bartender turns away to make his drink, Kurt looks over his shoulder to take in his surroundings. There's not exactly a crowd, but there are quite a few people on the dance floor. He thinks the jukebox is playing disco, and even though it wouldn't be his first choice of music, it seems to appease the clientele. And while he's slightly disappointed that he doesn't see anyone even close to his age, it's still nice to be in a place where he's less of an outcast.

            "Lookin' for the man of your dreams to take home tonight?" the bartender asks, pushing a drink in front of him.

            "Just looking in general, I guess," Kurt says with a sigh. "I don't really want someone for just the night."

            "Ah," the woman replies. "You're lookin' for a forever fellow."

            "Is that stupid?" Kurt asks, biting his lip.

            "Not stupid," she says. "I just don't think you're gonna find what you're lookin' for here. You'd probably have more luck in a big city bar - they've got more people your age. We get a few, though. Some are like you, but we've got a couple of regulars from around the area that are more your type."

            "Not sure if that sounds promising," Kurt mutters before taking a sip of his drink. It's sweet on his tongue, but there is definitely a kick to it.

            "Don't get down on yourself just yet," the bartender says, giving his elbow a nudge. "You're here, I just gave you a free drink, and there's music to dance to. And you've got plenty of admirers, babydoll."

            "I - what?"

            "Didn't do much lookin' when you were lookin', did ya?" she teases. "End of the bar on your right - he's been staring at you since you sat down. End of the bar on the left - he's been staring since you walked in. And over there by the jukebox - that guy's been practically drooling since he saw your ass in those pants."

Blushing fiercely, Kurt's eyes dart around to glance at the men in question.

Holy shit.

They're checking him out. A man - more than one man - is checking him out and giving him the once over. The guy to his left offers a smile before calling the bartender over to him. He's...not unattractive, Kurt thinks. He's wearing a dark pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, but he's blonde and extremely tall. Kurt's not really into tall, blonde, and handsome.

He's more of a...small, dark, and adorable type.

            "From Luke," the bartender says, shoving another shirley temple in front of him as she gestures her head toward the blonde man Kurt had been looking at. "Don't worry, though. I told him you were a virgin."

            "What?!" Kurt sputters, almost choking on the last bit of his first drink. "Why would you - how do you know I-"

            "I didn't until now," she says with a grin. "But now he knows that you're not lookin' for a hook up. So if he asks you to dance, you should dance. Luke's a nice guy, though, and he won't push you into anything you don't want."

            "Oh. Well, um, thanks for that."

            "Anytime, honey. I gotta get back to work. Let me know if you need anything else."

The bartender flits away to tend to other customers and Kurt stares down into his second drink. He's a little scared to look up because he doesn't know how long he can hold eye contact with someone before they get the wrong idea, and because he's not sure if he wants to dance with Luke-Nice-Guy before he's had more liquid courage.

But this is why he came here. Sure, he's not going to find a boyfriend when the majority of the guys here are at least thirty, but there's no harm in dancing with someone who isn't a girl and who might find him attractive.

            "Nice vest, blue eyes."

Kurt jerks his head up to find Luke now sitting in the seat right next to him, angling himself toward Kurt so that there's no confusion as to who he's talking to.

            "Um, thank you," Kurt says, glancing down at the vest he's wearing. "I - I just got it the other day."

            "It looks good on you," Luke says before tilting his head and looking up at Kurt with hooded eyes. "Or maybe you just make it look good."

Kurt blushes, cheeks staining with so much red that he can feel in when the warmth spreads below his shirt collar.

            "Thanks for the drink," Kurt says softly because he really doesn't know how to respond to such a compliment. Kurt doesn't ever get compliments.

            "Sure thing," Like says with an easy smile. "You looked like you needed it, honestly. Gina says it's your first time here."

            "Yeah, I - um, I don't go to bars much."

            "Or ever?" Luke guesses.

            "Or ever. Am I really that easy to read?"

            "You are," Luke says, though he laughs as he does and already Kurt feels more accepted here than he does at school. "But it's cute, so don't worry about it."

            "I hope you don't mind me asking but I was just - I mean, can I ask how old you are?"

At that, Luke tosses his head back, his laughter bright and loud over the music in the bar.

            "Oh, I'm too old for you," he says after he composes himself. "But that doesn't mean we can't have a dance or two. "

            "I'm...not sure if I really know how to dance to this kind of music," Kurt says, nodding to the speakers as if to demonstrate the fact that hello, they're playing disco, and that's not exactly Kurt's style.

            "This music's for everyone," Luke argues kindly, "but I think I can find something you might like."

He stands, sure to give Kurt a wink as he does, and walks over to the jukebox to scan the selection. As he bends over, Kurt can't help but stare at the man's ass because damn. Just - damn. Luke-Nice-Guy has a nice ass, even if he is over a decade older than Kurt. Of course, Blaine has him beat by a mile, but it's still a very nice ass.

A new song begins to play overhead, and the majority of the patrons cheer when they recognize it.

            "Oh my god," Kurt mumbles, shaking his head to himself.

            "Shut up, you know you love it!" Luke shouts at him from the dance floor. "Now get your cute little ass over here and shake it!"

Kurt squeaks in surprise when a hand shoves him off of his barstool, only to turn around and find that it was Gina, the bartender. He downs the rest of his drink in one go, hoping she didn't put too much liquor in what he knows isn't normally an alcoholic drink, and shuffles out to meet Luke on the dance floor.

            "Really?" Kurt asks, trying not to let his smile spread too wide. "I'm Coming Out?"

            "Diana Ross is tried and true," Luke says, taking Kurt's hands and giving him a twirl. "Damn, you are so cute."

            "You know," Kurt says as they begin to step and shimmy together, "you're a pretty good flirt, I'll give you that. But you haven't even asked me my name."

Luke gives a mock gasp, as if he's made some horrible, embarrassing blunder.

            "How remiss of me! My apologies, sweetheart. My name is Luke. What might yours be?"

            "It's Kurt," he replies as they swing around the dance floor amongst the crowd. "And thank you."

            "What for?"

            "For being so nice when I thought this entire night might make me feel even more pathetic," Kurt says plainly. "I wasn't really sure what to expect."

            "You're just lucky I saw you first," Luke says, giving Kurt another twirl before pulling him closer, but not quite snug against him. "You never know what kinds of guys are lurking around here. Tonight's pretty tame, so I think you're safe. Watch out next time, though; if you keep wearing jeans that tight, you have no idea what kind of trouble you'll cause."

            "What? Why would I cause trouble?"

            "Because you're clearly a boy who thinks he looks boring when, in reality, you're the hottest guy in this bar right now," Luke says. "Now quit your worrying and dance with me!"

After that, Kurt allows himself to relax just a fraction and realizes, just like at Rachel's party, no one seems to be paying attention to how he dances. It's really just about giving a little shake of his hips and small shimmy of his shoulders and out of nowhere, three other guys are dancing alongside them. Luke keeps him close, though, sure to keep his hands above the waist. Kurt is touched at his consideration and offers a grateful smile. They dance through three songs like that, just close and friendly, until they both decide they're thirsty and head back to the bar.

            "So, do you think you'll come back here?" Luke asks when they seat themselves on their stools and Gina hands them two more drinks.

            "Undetermined," Kurt says. "It's nice dancing with you because I know you won't - well, you know. But then if I can't find someone my age, what's the point? On the other hand, I've never been to a place with so many gay guys in one room - except for show choir competitions - and it's nice to feel like I belong somewhere, even if I'm too young to date anyone in here. But then again-"

            "Whoa, sweetheart," Luke says, placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Hold those horses. I think you're over-thinking things here."

            "Yeah," Kurt sighs, sipping listlessly on his drink. "I do that a lot."

            "The majority of guys that flock here are older, I'll give you that. But it's not just older guys. I've seen a fair amount of boys your age walk through those doors in the past few weeks. Don't give up hope. If anything, you can come here to dance and unwind. There's nothing wrong with that."

            "I guess."

            "Don't look so sad," Luke says. "You'll find someone."

Kurt gives a nod, though he's not too sure if he believes any of it. They fall into silence for a few minutes, both of them nursing their drinks as Kurt continues to weigh his options. Well, he only has two, really: come to scandals again and hope or don't come at all and wait until college.

            "Look at that," Luke says, nudging Kurt as he grins. "Guess you're not out of luck tonight."

            "What?"

            "Behind you," Luke adds. "Sexy little thing. Tight black button up and dark blue jeans. I've seen him in here a couple of times, he's almost a regular."

Kurt quirks an eyebrow in confusion, but he does chance a glance over his shoulder to see exactly who Luke is talking about. The first time he scans the crowd, he doesn't see any black-button-up-hotties, but when he looks again, he catches sight of small guy with a head of dark, gelled hair. He stares in shock.

That ass in those jeans looks far too familiar.

            "Oh my god," Kurt breathes.

            "Guessing he's definitely your type, then?"

            "I - I think he's - I'll be right back," Kurt says, already clambering off of his stool.

            "Take your time," Luke says, offering a small wave and a smile in parting.

Kurt moves slowly through the crowd, sure to keep himself hidden behind a few larger men until he's able to get a better view.

Holy shit, it is him.

Blaine is right in front of him with his back to Kurt, dancing in between two tall guys who have absolutely no fashion sense. An Adam Lambert song plays loudly overhead and, while Blaine is one hundred percent fine-as-fuck in that shirt with his collar popped, Kurt is about two thousand percent turned on because apparently Blaine can dance. He's not jumping around like an idiot at a teenage kegger dancing, but really dancing. He's grinding his hips against one guy while looping his arms around someone else's neck, baring his throat as sweat clings to his skin and how did Kurt not see him walk in? How long has he been here? What is he doing here?

Well, he's clearly enjoying himself.

With a bit of alcoholic courage in his blood and his heart pounding in time to the music, Kurt slides up behind Blaine, effectively shoving the other guy out of the way and replacing the stranger's hands with his own. Blaine tilts his head back on Kurt's shoulder, eyes shut tight in a way that keeps Kurt's identity a secret for just a few more seconds. Kurt allows himself that moment to drag his hands down Blaine's sides, feeling the way Blaine's muscles jerk and glide beneath his skin. When his hands reach Blaine's hips, he gives a tight squeeze, tilts his head until his lips are brushing against Blaine's ear, and says:

            "Now what would your girlfriend say about this, Blaine?"