If I had you, life would be a party, it'd be ecstasy.

The song continues to blare and beat around them, but Blaine's body becomes rigid in Kurt's arms. He snatches Kurt's hands away from his hips and whirls around, his eyes already wide with fear, but they grow even wider when he sees exactly who had discovered him here. Everyone else continues dancing while Kurt and Blaine remain immobile in the center of the crowd, staring each other down without speaking. Blaine doesn't even look like he's breathing at this point, so Kurt gives his shoulder a solid shake.

            "Wha - Kurt?" Blaine stutters after his shock has passed. "What - what're you doing here?"

            "Well, in case you didn't notice-"

Kurt points to the rainbow flag on the wall. Blaine stares at the thing for a second before his eyes focus once again on Kurt's face. They don't stay there long, though; in fact, Blaine appears to give him the same kind of once over that Luke had, and it stirs equal parts arousal and surprise in Kurt's body.

            "I know Rachel's probably really great when it comes to open-mindedness and experimentation in the sexuality quarter, but I don't know how pleased she'd be to find out that her boyfriend of two years is grinding up against a bunch of strange men in a gay bar," Kurt says flatly.

            "I - I just-" Blaine tries to say, biting his lower lip hard enough to leave an indention behind when he releases it.

Kurt tries not to stare at it for too long.

            "Fuck," Blaine swears.

            "That's exactly what you'll get if you keep dancing like that with all of these guys," Kurt states.

            "I just - I don't-"

For some reason, Blaine is struggling immensely with an explanation. Kurt can only think of two possible routes this could take: one, Blaine is just here for the music, booze, and dancing and doesn't care that it's a gay bar, or two, he's here precisely because it is a gay bar and he's questioning. Either way, he looks scared to death and exceptionally embarrassed and even if they're not the closest of friends, Blaine is still a friend to some degree and Kurt doesn't want the poor boy to suffer.

            "Do you want a drink?" Kurt asks, interrupting Blaine's spluttering.

            "I - what?"

            "A drink," Kurt says again. "You look like you're about to faint. Come on."

He reaches for Blaine's hand, sure to entwine their fingers to reduce the possibility that they might get split up in the small crowd, and drags him away from the dance floor to the bar. Luke is still there, but when he sees Kurt approaching with Blaine in tow, he nods to Gina, winks at Kurt, and slips away to continue dancing.

            "Well damn," Gina says before letting out a low whistle. "Lady Luck was on your side tonight, honey."

            "He's just a friend," Kurt says, attempting to spare Blaine any further embarrassment.

            "Of the tonight variety or the forever variety?" she asks.

He can feel Blaine's palm becoming sweaty in his own.

            "Neither," Kurt clarifies. "Just a friend."

Gina's eyes cut to Blaine, but she smirks when she nods in understanding.

            "Ah. Well, Luke bought you boys a round of drinks," she says, sliding two more shirley temples in front of them. "I left out the kick, though."

            "Thanks, Gina," Kurt says. He'll have to remember to shove a few dollars into her tip jar before he leaves.

            "Enjoy," she calls as she makes her way to the other end of the bar.

When they're finally alone, Kurt releases Blaine's hand and climbs onto a barstool, gesturing for Blaine to do the same. It takes a moment for Blaine to catch on, but by the time Come On Eileen begins to play on the jukebox, he's seated next to Kurt and sipping his drink. Kurt's not quite sure how to begin this conversation, so he just fishes his cherry out of his drink and pops it into his mouth. With a glance to Blaine, he finds that Blaine has been watching his every movement.

            "You look - I mean, you're - just - thanks," Blaine eventually says.

            "It's the least I could do," Kurt returns. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself so I'm sorry I had to drag you away."

            "Right, yeah," Blaine mumbles, lowering his eyes to stare into his drink.

            "...Were you enjoying yourself?"

            "I was just - damnit, I don't know what you want me to say."

            "Well," Kurt says, "there's obviously a story behind all of this, but you seem pretty nervous so I'm not going to make you talk about it if you don't want to. Plus, I was kind of a dick to you at the Lima Bean the other day. I'm sorry, by the way. I didn't mean to corner you like that. Well, okay, I did. But I didn't know it was about - I mean, unless it's not about this. Either way, I'm sorry."

            "It's okay," Blaine says in a somber tone. "I kind of deserved a good bitching out."

            "No, you didn't."

            "It's just been...a rough few weeks," Blaine admits. "And yeah, it's about all of this - why I'm here, I guess."

            "Do you want to talk about it?" Kurt asks slowly.

            "Not really."

            "Oh," Kurt says.

Well that was short lived, he thinks. For one minute, he almost thought that Blaine might open up to him.

            "Dance with me," Blaine blurts.

            "What?"

            "I want to dance," Blaine says again. "It's - it's why I'm here. I like to - to come here and dance and feel, I don't know, normal I guess."

            "...You feel normal dancing with random guys at a gay bar?"

            "I don't know, maybe," Blaine says, waving away Kurt's question. "But I don't want to dance with them. I want to dance with you. Please?"

Blaine looks desperate to forget himself for a little while, and Kurt can't turn down a chance to dance with Blaine without physically slapping himself for such stupidity. Because of that, Kurt downs his drink in one go and gestures for Blaine to do the same. Kurt slides off of his stool and holds out his hand. He's pretty sure the smile that appears on Blaine's lips means he's eternally grateful for Kurt accepting his offer, because Blaine finishes his drink and slips his hand into Kurt's.

They slink onto the dance floor just as a new song begins to play and Kurt has to wonder exactly how many genres and eras that damn jukebox has hidden up its sleeves.

            "Oh my god," Blaine groans, his forehead colliding with Kurt's shoulder.

            "Appropriate, don't you think?" Kurt asks as he slides his arms around Blaine's shoulders.

            "A bit too on point, I'd say," Blaine replies. "But it's definitely something I can dance to."

As if to prove his point, Blaine drags his fingers down Kurt's chest, twisting his hips all the while in time with the song.

My first kiss went a little like this - and twist - - and twist.

Blaine's fingers curl around Kurt's hips, digging his thumbs into that soft, sweet dip of flesh on the inside of hipbones. Kurt's head lolls back of its own accord and he can't even control his movements; he just allows Blaine to guide them together in time to the beat, thrusting and grinding in a dance he's sure the devil designed. They're so close, it's so fucking hot, and Kurt can feel the gyration of other men's bodies against his back.

In the back of a car, on the way to a bar, I got you on my lips, I got you on my lips.

And fuck, this song. Of all the damn songs to play right now, it has to be about first kisses and lips and hands in hair and everything Kurt has been dreaming about for over a month now. He feels completely drunk in a way that has nothing to do with the kick in his previous drinks, and he'll never be able to forget the way Blaine feels against him like this - all hot and rhythmic and sweaty, with heavy, talented hands and his breath against Kurt's bared neck.

            "Look at me," Blaine demands, voice a little raw.

Dear god, Kurt's mind shouts as his body screams at him to give Blaine what he wants. He tilts his head down and stares directly into Blaine's eyes to find them darker than he's ever seen, pupil blown, long lashes almost shimmering in the flash of lights from over their heads. As he stares, the other men in the bar seem to fall away and all that remains is the music and Blaine's hands, Blaine's arms, Blaine's hips, lips, and eyes.

All of that comes to an abrupt halt the moment Blaine spins him around, twisting Kurt until his ass is pressed firmly against Blaine's crotch. It almost knocks the breath out of him. But then Blaine's hands are back, roaming his chest as he grinds into Kurt's ass and nuzzles his nose against Kurt's ear, his lips dragging across Kurt's now-sweaty skin.

And Blaine is hard.

Jesus fucking Christ, Kurt is pretty sure he died and drifted off into some sort of gay heaven because there's no way any of this is actually happening to him.

The song ends. Kurt's stomach drops to his feet. It's over, he knows. The spell is broken and Blaine is going to step away and walk right out of those doors and forget that this ever happened.

Except...he doesn't.

He clings to Kurt, chest heaving against Kurt's back and says:

            "Please don't stop."

So they don't. They dance through the next song and even though Kurt has never heard it before, Blaine's capable hips lead Kurt straight to the depths of hell because he feels like he's on fire. He thinks he sees starbursts behind his eyes when Blaine decides to claw his fingers up Kurt's thigh. Since when can Blaine even move like this? Kurt has seen him dance in Glee and at a party, but he never imagined Blaine had such raw power on the dance floor.

They dance through another song, and another, and another, until Kurt's mouth feels too dry and he can't catch his breath.

But he never wants to stop. He never wants Blaine to leave, doesn't want him to take his hands with him when he goes. Kurt is positive that those hands have a secret ability to make him sing in a way that has nothing to do with show choir. His breath comes in sharp, stuttering gasps when Blaine spins him around and his hard-on presses against Kurt's own through their too-tight jeans, and he thinks he might pass out when Blaine burrows his sweaty head into the crook of Kurt's neck. They're both panting and desperate for a full breath, but it doesn't matter because this matters - movement and skin and loud, pulsing beats that Kurt can feel in his bones.

After what feels like an eternity, but is really ten or so songs, Kurt feels like he's going to die, but not from lack of air.

            "I - I need-"

            "One more drink," Blaine says.

Well, that's not what Kurt was going to say, but it'll definitely give him a chance to cool down. He nods and Blaine drags him back to the bar, not nearly as timid as he had been less than an hour ago. Gina's there, looking pleased as fucking punch, drinks already on the bar for them. Kurt slides her forty dollars.

They're still trying to catch their breath as they drink. The liquid feels like heaven as it glides down Kurt's throat, and he feels Blaine's knee bumping against his.

            "You two put on quite a show."

Kurt turns to see Luke at his side, looking slightly more rumpled than he did when he left them alone earlier. His white shirt is soaked with sweat, his hair is mussed, and he certainly doesn't smell like the cologne he was wearing earlier.

            "Seems like you had some fun yourself," Kurt points out.

            "Watching you boys move is enough to get anyone going, gay or straight," Luke says, clearly unashamed. "Guess your night's turning out better than you planned?"

            "You could...say that," Kurt says, eyes cutting to Blaine.

Who looks utterly debauched.

Christ, and Kurt thought he could cool down for a few minutes.

            "Good," Luke says with a kind smile before thumping Kurt lightly on the back. "Well, I'm off for the night. I have a feeling I'll see you two around some other time."

He offers a wave and then he's gone, leaving Kurt alone to admire Blaine in peace. They continue to drink in silence, and Kurt knows they're going to have to talk about all of this soon. Really, he just wants to dance with Blaine until he physically can't anymore, but that's not exactly practical. He also knows that he can't be the one to start this conversation.

            "Let's get some air," Blaine says simply, already sliding off of his stool.

            "Okay."

It's stupidly cold outside, but they walk around to the side of the bar where the wind is less harsh and the cool air on Kurt's cheeks is a blessing after so much heat on the dance floor. Blaine sinks to the ground with his back against the wall, knees coming up to his chest. He looks far more relaxed than Kurt had been expecting, so Kurt joins him, mentally preparing himself for whatever Blaine might say.

            "This is the fifth time I've been here in the past three weeks," Blaine says, eyes focused on the ground. He gives a soft, strange laugh. "I'd never even heard of it. I had to search for gay bars in Lima, Ohio on the internet."

            "So you did know it was a gay bar?"

            "Well, yeah," Blaine says. "Kinda what I was aiming for."

            "I just - I don't understand," Kurt says. "You're - you're dating Rachel. You're straight."

            "I thought I was," Blaine says with a shrug. "I guess I was wrong."

            "But you've been dating her for two years."

            "And during those two years, I never once felt for her what I felt for you when we kissed."

Kurt stares back in stunned silence. Is Blaine talking about him, specifically, or is he talking about kissing a boy in general? Either way, this bodes well for him, but he's going to have to let Blaine explain before he jumps to any conclusions. He's been hoping and dreaming too much lately; he won't let himself get caught in that trap again.

            "Maybe I should just start from the beginning," Blaine says.

            "Probably," Kurt replies weakly.

Blaine heaves a sigh and gives a quick comb through his hair with unsteady hands.

            "I never had a girlfriend before Rachel," Blaine begins. "So when I transferred here and she, well, threw herself at me, it was a little weird at first. But then we started hanging out, you know? We went to lunch on the weekends and sometimes dinner, and she took me to some revival theater thing and we dressed up as the characters. It was...fun. It was really fun and I had a great time with her. We had a lot in common with singing and theater and just performing in general. And we got along well. So when she asked me to be her boyfriend, I thought it was the next, logical step, I guess. Like, I thought that's how it happened. You find someone, you have fun with them, and you have things in common, so why not date? I thought the...other stuff would come later."

            "So you weren't attracted to her in the beginning?" Kurt asks.

            "I thought I was," Blaine says. "I mean, I thought she was pretty the first time I saw her. She's beautiful, there's no mistaking that. But I've never been a fan of the short skirts and the tight tops that she wears. I asked her once why she never wore jeans and she said they didn't make her feel feminine enough, which I thought was silly. We got into a fight about it, actually. But I apologize because I didn't want to be one of those creepy, controlling boyfriends and that was that. We were okay. And then you bent over during warms ups at dance rehearsal one day and I think I almost lost my mind."

"W-What?" Kurt splutters, unable to believe what he's hearing.

            "It's like this," Blaine attempts to explain. "For the longest time after I started dating her, I didn't let myself look at anybody else. Because that's not exactly polite, you know? She's my girlfriend and I thought I should only want to look at her. So I kind of ignored everyone else and didn't let myself think along those lines. I was happy with Rachel; we had fun and I liked spending so much time with her. But then - Christ, then you had to wear those damn yoga pants and bend over when you were stretching and - god, this is embarrassing to admit. I - I got really hard, right there in the middle of dance rehearsal. Because I was staring at your ass. But that was a while ago, probably during the first couple weeks of school this year."

            "Well, I do have a pretty nice ass," Kurt says, preening just a bit and hoping he's able to ease some of the embarrassment Blaine might be feeling right now.

            "You do, and that's exactly it. I just...kind of wrote it off. Even though I was turned on, I just figured that an ass was an ass and from where I was, with you bent over, I couldn't tell you weren't girl. But then I started noticing...other things about you."

            "Oh god, do I even want to know?"

            "You have really great legs," Blaine states. "Did you know? I always thought you knew because you wear those tight pants all the time, so I thought you were just..."

            "What, strutting my stuff?" Kurt scoffs. "Hardly."

            "Well, that's how it worked in my mind. And you have - this is probably weird - you have really nice hands. And - and lips and eyes and Christ, even you hair is amazing. Like, you were very aesthetically pleasing to me. In a serious way."

            "So you started checking me out after you realized you weren't attracted to her?" Kurt asks, a little confused.

            "No, that's the thing. I didn't realize that it had anything to do with attraction. Look, my dad's not exactly fond of ‘alternative lifestyles', as he puts it, but my mom raised to be kind and understanding and open and all of that. So I didn't put that much thought into it. I just thought, you know, that you were nice to look at, same as Rachel was nice to look at. Or Santana or Quinn or, hell, even Puck has his qualities. People are pretty. And I realized that there wasn't any harm in looking. So I...looked at you."

            "I can't decide if that's creepy or not."

            "I never meant it to be," Blaine says, slightly apologetic. "But I couldn't help it. Still, I never thought that anything was wrong with that. I figured I was one of those straight guys who had the ability to look at another man and think that they were nice-looking without wanting to screw their brains out. Maybe it was envy, I don't know."

            "Wait, but what about when you and Rachel have sex?" Kurt wonders. "Doesn't it make it, and no pun intended, harder to be intimate with her if you're not into her as much as you thought?"

            "Rachel and I have never had sex," Blaine reveals.

            "...Oh."

            "We've never gone past like, heavy make-out sessions and a little bit of groping. But that's the thing: she always touched me. It wasn't anything life-altering, just her hand rubbing me through my jeans, but I've never once had my hand between her legs. Or under her shirt. I thought I was being a gentleman. And then Artie told us during West Side Story rehearsals a few weeks ago that we lacked passion, and concluded it was because we never did the deed or whatever. But that comes later in the story."

            "Sorry," Kurt says. "I was just confused. Carry on."

            "It's okay. So anyway, I started looking at you and...well, having some pretty graphic thoughts when I fell asleep and they were far from clean. It confused me, I guess, because I never had those dreams about Rachel and it was just - it was weird. But I couldn't stop it and I couldn't stop looking at you either. So when I saw you in the hallway that one day and I asked you to skip with me, my motives weren't exactly...pure. Well, I mean, I didn't plan on jumping your bones or anything. I just wanted to...sit with you. So I could look at you without it being weird and so I could listen to your voice."

            "Oh," Kurt says flatly. "That's - that's kind of nice, actually."

He thinks he sees Blaine's cheek flush, just a touch, and he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with the chilly wind.

            "Yeah," Blaine says, a hint of a smile on his lips. "And then you actually came to the damn party."

            "Wait, I thought - did you not want me to come?"

            "Oh, I definitely did. I was ready to drag you there, kicking and screaming. I just didn't know you - fuck, where did you find those pants? Who wears pants with safety pins all up the side? Like, it should be illegal to look like that, okay? I couldn't even be around you without wanting to - to touch you or - god, everything. And then you were dancing with Santana and you looked so cute and I looked at Rachel and, well, she just looked drunk."

            "So you were avoiding me for a while," Kurt deduces. "I was kind of pissed that you invited me and barely talked to me."

            "I'm really sorry," Blaine says, hunching his shoulders a bit. "I wanted to spend the whole night with you. But I was pretty drunk there in the beginning - I was drinking before you got there - and I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself. So I like, stayed on the other side of the room. Until spin the bottle."

            "Ah, right."

            "The kiss that definitely did not miss," Blaine adds. "You have to understand, I didn't even know kissing someone could feel like that, you know? I've kissed Rachel plenty of times and it's nice, it really is, and kissing in general is pretty awesome. But kissing you was phenomenal. Kissing you was like - like some unspoken prayer answered by God."

            "That's pretty profound," Kurt says softly, feeling all warm and tingly inside. He's never heard so many nice things said about him in one sitting.

            "It was profound. It was like the fog lifted and you were standing right there, looking like you were made for me - just for me. So when the party was over and we were alone, I couldn't help myself. I did want you to have a better first kiss and all that, but mostly I just wanted to taste you again and see if I could get that feeling back."

            "And did you?"

            "Tenfold," Blaine whispers. "It was even better than the first time."

            "Wow, that's-" fucking awesome, Kurt's mind supplies, "that definitely had to be confusing for you."

            "It was," Blaine admits. "But it didn't scare me, not in the way it might scare some guys. I became resigned to the way I felt, but it's...not that easy."

            "Because of Rachel," Kurt speculates.

            "Because of her, because of my dad, because of the way some of the people at school look up to me like I'm some sort of hero when I'm not. I'm just a guy who never understood what he wanted. "

            "But you know that your friends wouldn't care," Kurt says. "Sam and Quinn and Finn and all of those guys, they're in Glee with us and they don't care that I'm gay."

            "Yeah, but you're you," Blaine tries to say. "You've always been you and they accept that. I don't think they'd be the same when it comes to me."

            "But - but they're your friends," Kurt insists.

            "And they know me as their very straight friend who kisses Rachel and pretends to love her. I don't know if you've noticed, but Rachel's kind of the queen bee."

            "She wasn't before, though," Kurt says. "Before you, she was different. She was at the bottom of the heap with people like me and Mercedes. Dating you is what made her popular, Blaine, not the other way around. And Rachel would understand. I'm sure having two gay dads would make it easier for her."

            "Not when I've been dating her for two years," Blaine says, sounding slightly frustrated. "She would think I was using her, like a beard or whatever. I can't do that to her. I can't break up with her and start dating a guy - I'd get so much hell and I just can't deal with that, okay?"

            "Okay," Kurt says easily, placing his hand on Blaine's knee. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push. I wasn't saying you should come out or anything, especially not when you're just now figuring this all out for yourself."

            "Yeah," Blaine says in a level tone. "Thanks."

            "Forget about that, though. You don't have to explain that to me. But you still haven't told me about why you've been coming to Scandals."

Sighing, Blaine tilts his head back, resting it against the wall.

            "Right," he mumbles. "Can we sit in your car or something? It's fucking freezing out here."

            "Sure, yeah," Kurt says, ready to be out of the cold. "Come on."

They both stand and push themselves away from the wall, but as they walk toward Kurt's car, Blaine's hand somehow finds its way into Kurt's. It's an unexpected gesture, and at first Kurt's fingers lock up, but Blaine's palm is so warm and smooth against his own and it feels really good, so he curls his fingers around Blaine's and they continue walking like that in silence. When Kurt makes to let go and climb into the driver's seat of his car, Blaine tugs him away and motions for them to climb in the back seat instead.

Oh.

Okay.

Yes, the back seat is much nicer than the front.

After they're settled inside the relative warmth of the car with the doors shut, Blaine scoots closer to Kurt on the seat and begins tracing nonsensical patterns on the top of Kurt's denim-clad thigh. But then he pauses and snatches his hand away.

            "Sorry," he says quickly. "I don't - it's just that I-"

            "It's okay," Kurt says kindly. "I don't mind."

            "Are you sure?"

            "I'm positive," Kurt says, covering Blaine's hand with his own and guiding it back to his thigh. "You're okay."

It's nice here, Kurt thinks, with just the two of them sitting so close in the back seat of his car. It's nice with Blaine touching him because people don't like to touch him much, and it's nice that Blaine is opening up to him in a way that Kurt is sure he's never opened up to anyone.

It makes Kurt feel special.

            "I started coming here after Artie said that thing to us about sex during West Side Story rehearsal."

            "...I don't follow," Kurt says.

            "Well, after he said that, Rachel and I decided to try."

            "What, to have sex?"

            "Yeah," Blaine says with a nod. "She cooked me dinner one night when her dads were out. She had candles and everything and it was - it was very sweet. After dinner, she lit a fire and put a bunch of blankets and pillows on the floor and said she wanted to change, so she went upstairs and I sat down and waited. It was...a long wait."

            "Were you nervous?"

            "I was terrified," Blaine admits. "Our relationship was definitely not shaped around the physical stuff and I'd never so much as touched her in any kind of, um, intimate way. I researched some stuff online so I'd have some clue how to at least start, and the mechanics of it were pretty basic, but I was still scared. And then she came down in this - this nighty thing, all pink and frilly. Like, I think it would've gone over better if she came down in a t-shirt and her underwear but, you know, that wasn't the case. So she got on top of me and we started kissing and everything and she, uh, touched me, but I could feel her breasts against my chest and her perfume was all wrong and she was - she was too soft in places, so I - god. I panicked, is what I did. I freaked out and I kept telling her that I just wasn't ready and that I couldn't do it yet. So she started crying and asking me if it was something she did, and of course I said no because it's not her fault. And I said that I wasn't comfortable with moving so fast when all we'd ever done was kiss, and I asked if we could wait a little bit longer. She understood, I guess. Or maybe she wasn't ready either, I don't know. But we ended up watching her copy of Into the Woods all night and that was that."

            "Uh...wow."

            "I know. It was a complete disaster."

            "I'm sorry."

Blaine shrugs.

            "Nothing to be sorry about. After that, though, I really started considering the fact that I might be gay. I mean, after kissing you, I sort of suspected, but I wasn't sure if it was just...you."

            "What do you mean?"

            "To be honest, I wasn't sure if I was homosexual or you-sexual. You're the only guy I've ever kissed, you know? So I didn't know if I was so attracted to you because you're the one that made me realize that I didn't like girls, or because I was attracted to just you. And I needed to find out so I, um-"

            "Started looking around for gay bars," Kurt concludes, the pieces of the puzzle finally coming together. "And you found Scandals."

            "I came here for the first time three weeks ago," Blaine says. "It was...definitely different. I had guys hitting on me left and right and it didn't make me feel weird at all. Mostly I just come to dance with people and feel, well, normal."

Kurt finds it funny that they seem to think along similar lines when it comes to hanging out here. He's pretty sure he thought that exact same thing earlier when he'd been talking to Luke.

            "But you didn't let any of them...you know," Kurt says. "You didn't let them, um, take you into the bathroom and - uh-"

            "Oh, god no," Blaine says at once, sounding horrified at the idea. "No, that never happened. I did let a guy kiss me, but nothing more than that."

            "And he was how old?"

At that, Blaine laughs, turning his face into Kurt's shoulder as if to muffle the sound. When he calms, he doesn't pull away entirely; he simply turns his head until his cheek is resting there instead, his sweaty curls brushing against Kurt's jaw.

            "He was our age," Blaine informs. "He goes to a school nearby, but not in Lima. I think he was a more, ah, seasoned professional when it comes to prowling the gay bar scene. We danced for most of the night and when he kissed me, I let him. Because I needed to know."

            "And what was the verdict?" Kurt wonders, praying that he doesn't sound too hopeful despite the butterflies in his belly.

            "Way better than kissing Rachel, but not even in the same ballpark as kissing you."

Kurt can't help the smile that curls his lips, and he can't help hiding it in Blaine's hair that kind of smells like autumn and leaves and boy. He inhales deeply, knowing that it's dangerous to be this happy because there's a chance that all of this is a dream.

            "I'm sorry if that freaks you out," Blaine whispers.

            "Oh my god," Kurt says, laughing against the top of Blaine's head before he rubs his cheek there instead. "You have no idea how much that does not freak me out."

            "Really?"

            "Blaine," Kurt says steadily. "I've had a crush on you ever since I first saw you. Like, a monumentally, stupidly huge crush. Hearing you say that you like kissing me more than you like kissing anyone else does the complete opposite of freak me out."

Blaine pulls away just enough to look directly into Kurt's eyes. His own appear bright and glistening, wide and filled to the brim with more optimism than Kurt has ever seen in one person.

            "Are you serious?"

            "No, I just like screwing with you," Kurt says with a roll of his eyes. "Yes, I'm serious. Jesus, I must have been really great at hiding it or you're absolutely blind."

            "But - but you - fuck," Blaine groans.

And just like that, he swoops in for a kiss, his lips pressing so roughly against Kurt's and with so much persistence that Kurt almost can't keep up. He learns quickly, though, kissing back with a bruising force until he thinks he can feel the hard press of Blaine's teeth through his lips. Blaine's hands find their way to his face, cradling his cheeks as he pulls Kurt impossibly closer and dips his tongue into Kurt's mouth, only to be rewarded with a gasp.

There's no way this is real, Kurt's conscience says to him through the hazy bit of lust clouding his brain. Because Kurt Hummel does not get his hopes and dreams handed to him on a silver platter. He never gets the gold star - ha, take that, Rachel Berry - and he never gets the boy. It all seems too good to be true, but he can't focus on that right now because Blaine has Kurt's lower lip caught between his teeth and he's sucking with just enough pressure to make it obscene.

            "I wanted to do this earlier," Blaine breathes against Kurt's open mouth. "When we were dancing. Wanted to kiss you until I couldn't see straight."

He slams his lips against Kurt's again, kissing with what seems like everything he has, and Kurt can do nothing but hold on. He clings to Blaine's shoulders, Blaine's neck, Blaine's back, until Blaine pushes him backwards, urging him to lie down on the seat.

            "Is this - is this okay?" Blaine asks.

            "Yes, god, this is so okay," Kurt gasps, fingers getting lost in Blaine's hair.

            "Fuck, you're so hot," Blaine mumbles against Kurt's jaw where he begins pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to his skin.

Kurt whines in reply, hips jerking up to meet Blaine's of their own free will. He can't even control his own body right now; he's trembling and panting into the sticky-warm air of the car like he just ran five miles, and he can't seem to stop his wandering hands from exploring Blaine's strong back. He's harder than he was on the dance floor, and apparently Blaine can feel it because he groans against Kurt's neck and thrusts, their erections grinding together through their jeans.

            "I've never - I never knew it could feel so good," Blaine admits as he continues to roll his hips.

            "Please don't stop," Kurt begs, already on the verge of coming undone beneath Blaine's eager body. "Please, Blaine."

            "Never, babe, oh god," Blaine returns, hips working some kind of dark magic, and Kurt thinks he can feel the bass thumping here in the car even though the music can only be coming from the bar.

Or maybe that's his pulse.

And Blaine doesn't stop; he keeps moving, writhing, thrusting, and swiping his tongue into Kurt's mouth as if he's chasing the taste from his own fantasies. Kurt wrenches his leg up from where it's caught in between Blaine's body and the back of the seat, winding it around Blaine's back instead and digging the heel of his boot into Blaine's ass. He knows the windows are fogged, knows the car is probably rocking and he's sure that every outsider knows exactly what they're doing. For whatever reason, the thought makes him harder and groans, long and low against Blaine's lips.

            "Holy - the sounds you make, Kurt, I can't-"

            "Come," Kurt pants. "Wanna see you. Come with me."

            "Fuck, I - fuck," Blaine breathes before he latches his lips onto Kurt's like they're magnetic, increasing the speed of hips.

Kurt teeters for a moment on the edge of orgasm, attempting to hold onto this feeling forever because it actually feels like Blaine is ripping him apart at the seams and it's so - damn - good.

Blaine comes first, moaning into their kiss as his hips stutter and start, but it's the way his fingers claw at Kurt's skin where his shirt has risen up near his jeans that finally pushes Kurt over the edge. He comes, barely ten seconds after Blaine, and he rides out the wild, fleeting zing of pleasure while rocking steadily against Blaine's rigid body. Kurt feels like he's floating for a moment, but Blaine slumps on top of him, clearly spent and exhausted. He pulls his lips away in order to rest his head near Kurt's shoulder, his breath quick and hot on Kurt's ear.

            "Fuck," Blaine swears. "I am so gay."