3 Weeks Earlier

            "Hey. Helmet Head."

Blaine Anderson spins around to see Santana approaching him as he unlocks his car, her expression strangely unreadable. Her flyaway cheer skirt flits in the wind and she pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders as she stops in front of him. It's strange to think that he used to imagine Rachel in one of those skirts; he'd settle on his back, the image in his head, and he'd slip a hand down into his underwear in an attempt to get himself off on the fantasy. Of course, in the end, he'd end up imagining Kurt face down, ass in the air, only coming when he imagined the accompanying sounds Kurt might make as Blaine fucked into him.

But now he doesn't even have to imagine the sounds Kurt makes.

He shivers. Maybe Kurt will want to meet up for frozen yogurt later and maybe he'll let Blaine lick the taste of raspberries from his lips. Yeah, that sounds like a really nice way to spend his evening.

            "Hey, Santana," Blaine greets. "Did you need a ride home?"

            "We're going for coffee," she says, pointing the locking remote on her keys toward her car as if to demonstrate her point. "I'll meet you there."

            "Uh...that sounds nice, but I sort of have things to do."

            "What? Like Hummel?"

Blaine drops the textbook he'd been attempting to slip into his bag. He freezes, feeling like he's just been kicked and winded and thrown into a dangerous trap. A satisfied grin creeps onto Santana's face. She winks, putting a single finger to her lips as if to shush him.

            "So," she says, "coffee?"

            "Y-Yeah," Blaine stammers in terror. "Coffee sounds - sounds good, actually."

            "I'll see you at the Lima Bean in ten minutes."

-

Blaine has never been as nervous as he is now. He taps his fingers against his cup, impatiently waiting for Santana to come back from the bathroom. He briefly considers fleeing the scene to spare himself the conversation that is clearly about to be had, but then she emerges from the bathroom in regular clothes instead of her Cheerios uniform.

            "You changed," he says.

He hates that he has a habit of pointing out the obvious when he's nervous. It's one of the smaller things about himself that he finds annoying, far down on a list of sins he can't ever share, except with Kurt, of course. Kurt knows most everything about him.

Christ, he should probably find a way to stop thinking about him so much.

            "I have a date to get to after we're done here," Santana says with a shrug.

            "Oh, that's cool."

            "Mm, but we're not here to talk about me."

            "Listen," Blaine says, attempting to take control of this catastrophe, "I don't know why you think-"

            "Just cut the crap, Blaine," she interrupts. "I know."

            "...About what?"

            "That you're gay," she says plainly.

            "W-What? I'm not-"

            "And second of all, I know about you and Kurt."

At first, Blaine just stares at her, wondering how she could have found out, but then he realizes that he's being stupidly obvious in his reactions. To cover his shock, he snorts, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head.

            "You're crazy," he says. "There's nothing going on between me and Kurt."

            "And yet your nose grows longer when you say it, Pinocchio."

            "We're just friends," Blaine says. "We go for coffee sometimes and do our homework together."

            "Really? Because I've never seen you guys here together."

            "We go - we go somewhere else."

            "Because you don't want anyone else to see you together."

            "Yes. No! No, that's not - look, you know how people act toward Kurt. If - if someone saw us together, they'd think exactly what you're thinking right now. But we're just friends and we want to be friends without anyone judging us for that."

            "And if your tongue slips into his mouth over mochas and essays, that's not gay at all."

            "We're not together."

            "Oh my god, this is pathetic," Santana groans before leaning over the table. "I know, Blaine. You two have been fooling around, probably for some time now, and there are definitely feelings involved. I saw the way you sang half of that song to Kurt today. And the way he was bawling like he was watching the Notebook for the first time was a pretty dead giveaway."

            "Would you just stop?" Blaine hisses, eyeing the other customers in the room, praying he doesn't see anyone from school.

            "Not until you admit it."

            "Well, I'm not going to so just - please. Please stop."

            "I have to wonder if Berry knows," Santana says, leaning back in her chair and looking far too at ease and pleased with herself. "Honestly, she seems like someone who would totally be your beard as long as she gets to watch you make out with another guy. And speaking of making out, I happen to recall a pretty hot kiss between you and Hummel at Berry's party. Bet you thought we all forgot about that. Is that when it all started? You got your first taste of boy tongue and you were sold? Once you go gay, there's no other way?"

            "If you keep talking, I swear to god I'll punch you in the tit."

            "And then I'll cut you with the razor blades I keep in my hair."

            "Just - fuck," Blaine growls. "What do you want from me?"

            "When did I ever say I wanted anything from you?"

            "It's obvious that this is about blackmail or something equally horrible. So what is it? Do you want money or something?"

            "I don't want anything from you."

            "Then why are you even talking to me right now?"

Santana's eyes cut away, and she checks around the vicinity as if to make sure that no one's listening to their conversation. She sucks in a breath, gives a decisive nod, and leans forward.

            "Because I am, too," she says.

            "...You're what? Sleeping with Kurt?"

            "No, you little - ugh. I'm gay."

She falls silent after that, eyes locked on his, not even blinking in an attempt to read Blaine's reaction. Okay, so he is a little caught off guard at the confession. Last he checked, she was hooking up with Puck like, every single weekend and screwing half of the other guys at this school. The longer he thinks about it, though, it all makes sense. Santana definitely seems like the kind of person to act out when she gets insecure. Sleeping with the majority of the male population at McKinley would probably gain her some horrible label like ‘slut' or ‘whore' but...maybe, for her, it's an easier label to handle than something else offensive, like ‘dyke'. He cringes internally at the language.

            "Why are you telling me?" he asks softly.

            "Because you need to be careful," she says. "I'm all for being all you can be and all of that other bullshit Mr. Schue preaches, but I know what it feels like to want to come out on your own terms and not someone else's."

            "You - you think someone else knows? About me?"

            "I think it could come to light very easily if you keep singing little romantic songs to him in front of the entire club and staring at his ass the way you did today during rehearsal when he was dancing."

Blaine flinches.

            "I was staring?"

            "It was like your eyes and his ass were magnetic. You couldn't even look away if you tried."

            "Fuck," Blaine mumbles.

To be fair, Kurt's ass had looked particularly fantastic today. He was wearing those jeans, the ones that are so tight that Blaine can see Kurt's religion in them, and he was still able to be limber and graceful as he moved. How was Blaine supposed to ignore that?

            "I don't understand why you don't just break up with Berry and make Hummel your main squeeze."

            "Because Rachel would start world war three if I tried," Blaine says. "It'd be apocalyptic."

            "Hm. Well, there is that. She'd fight tooth and nail to keep you."

            "It's getting harder, though," Blaine admits. The cat's already out of the bag and while it's definitely weird knowing that somebody else is aware of his secret, he finds he can't keep his mouth shut on the subject now. "It's getting harder to pretend that I love her and it's getting harder to stay away from Kurt. He's been so damn patient with all of this and I feel like shit for keeping him on the side, but...I'm just not ready."

            "And that is why I don't do relationships."

            "I thought you said you had a date."

She levels him with a gaze that clearly says, ‘Are you fucking serious, bro?'

            "Oh," he says flatly, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. "You meant a date with a girl."

            "No, with Obama. Yes, with a girl, you idiot."

Ignoring her jibe, Blaine downs the last of his coffee.

            "Look, I'm just trying to do a solid and warn you that you're becoming dangerously close to instigating your own rumors. Because if you're not careful, you and Hummel will make the front page of that shitty gossip rag the school calls a newspaper, and you're done."

            "I don't want that," Blaine says immediately. "I don't want the truth getting out like that, not before I'm ready."

            "Then be careful. That's all I wanted to say."

-

Present

Blaine heaves a deep breath the moment he finishes his retelling of the events. He looks to Kurt, and Kurt can see the worry in his eyes, like he's afraid Kurt might consider skinning him alive for letting their secret out.

            "You were staring at my ass?" Kurt asks, attempting to ease some of Blaine's discomfort.

            "That is so not the issue here," Blaine scoffs in amusement.

            "So she knows," Kurt says with a shrug. "It doesn't sound like she's going to tell anyone. Though, her being a lesbian actually does make a lot of sense. I saw her and Brittany looking pretty cozy at the mall last weekend. Like, cozier than they normally are."

            "You don't think she'll accidentally let something slip?"

            "No," Kurt says, fairly certain in his answer, "because you know about her. She wouldn't let anything slip, now when you have the same kind of dirt on her. It wouldn't make sense for her to tell you, otherwise."

            "I guess," Blaine says. "It just creeps me out, you know? She's in Glee with us and she's sitting across the room and she - she knows. It's weird."

            "Is that why you've been skipping rehearsal?" Kurt wonders.

            "It made me nervous for a while," Blaine admits. "I kept expecting her to drop the knowledge like a bomb, just to watch the inevitable fallout. She does like to cause some shit."

            "I don't think she'll do that this time."

            "Probably not. It still worried me, though."

            "So, after you talked to her, that's when you started pulling away? Because of all of that stuff she said about being careful?"

            "I guess it made be really think about the things I've been doing and the way I've been acting around Rachel. And it - well, it made me think about how much I'm hurting you in all of this."

            "Blaine," Kurt says, winding his arms around Blaine's shoulders and pulling him in for a hug, "the only thing that hurts me is seeing you look so miserable all the time. I've told you a thousand times - I understand that you're not ready to come out."

            "But you have to put up with me sneaking around and spending time with Rachel when I could be spending time with you."

            "Then break up with her," Kurt says, pulling back a fraction. "I can only have this conversation so many times, you know? I don't have any other advice to offer."

Blaine sighs, hiding his face in the crook of Kurt's neck. Kurt feels Blaine's lips against his skin in a whisper of a kiss and the familiar fluttering sensation in his stomach returns at the touch. Blaine's lips have the ability to drive him wild, no matter where he presses them.

            "I know. I'm sorry. You just - I can't help but think that you deserve better than this. But then I feel guilty because I don't want you to be with someone else because I want you."

            "You've got me," Kurt promises. "I'm not going anywhere."

            "You're sure?" Blaine asks, sounding small and scared and his voice makes Kurt want to wrap him up in a blanket and tuck him into bed and keep him safe forever and ever and god, he's got it bad.

            "I swear it."

-

By the time Kurt finally gets home later that night, long after he and Blaine had kissed for a while in the auditorium and after they went to Starbucks for coffee, he's pretty drained. He drops onto the couch to flip through the DVR to see what shows he can catch up on before bed, but then Finn walks in with a massive bowl of popcorn and a case of root beer.

            "Hey, man," he says, easing himself onto the couch so that he doesn't jar the bowl of popcorn. "Want some?"

Kurt shakes his head, too tired to reply. Finn shrugs, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth and getting butter all over his face in the process. After ten minutes of listening to his munching and after ten minutes of Finn sitting through Bridezillas without any complaint, Kurt knows that something is up.

            "And so?" Kurt prompts.

            "What?"

            "Finn, you can't sit through two minutes of this show without groaning about how stupid it is. I find it difficult to believe that you're actually going to sit through an entire episode without reason. So what do you want?"

            "Just some bro time."

            "You want to bro over Bridezillas?"

            "Well I'd rather like, talk or whatever, but you like your show. So yeah."

            "Would you stop being cryptic and tell me what you want to talk about, then?"

Finn pops open a can of root beer and hands it to Kurt, who mentally curses his brother as he accepts the soda. Kurt fucking loves root beer. Finn knows he can't turn it down. It's one of his weaknesses.

            "You've been gone a while," Finn says. "After Glee, I mean. Where'd you go?"

            "What is it with you keeping tabs on me? You're my brother, not my dad."

            "He's been wondering too, actually. He got home from work earlier and asked if I knew where you've been going lately."

            "Just out. I get tired of being at home."

            "With Mercedes?"

            "Sometimes," Kurt says, though it's a lie. He hasn't had any real substantial time with Mercedes in a while, not beyond a trip or two to the mall, and even though he feels guilty about that, he has other things to worry about right now.

And Finn trying to play detective is one of them.

            "Who else?"

            "For the love of everything that is good and pure in the world," Kurt says, groaning in annoyance. "Look, I'm tired, okay? I don't need an interrogation tonight."

            "I'm just wondering. I don't understand why you won't say who else you're friends with. It's weird, you know?"

            "It isn't weird. I happen to not feel the need to spill every secret about my life to everyone."

            "...So you have a secret?"

            "No, I don't have a secret!" Kurt erupts. "Jesus, what is wrong with you? First that weird talk in the kitchen at the end of Christmas break, then the weird looks in school, and now this. You aren't making any sense."

            "It feels like you're like, keeping stuff from me."

            "We're not friends, Finn. We've never been friends. You suddenly taking an interest in my life and angling for bro time is peculiar; the fact that I have friends that you don't know about isn't."

            "What about Blaine?"

Kurt pauses. He feels his blood run cold. No. Wait. Oh god. What does Finn know about Blaine? Had Santana accidentally let something slip to Quinn who said something to Finn? Is everything falling apart, right here and now? Shit. He's panicking. Why is he panicking? The abrupt whirlwind in his head makes him want to bolt.

            "...What about Blaine?" Kurt asks, doing his best to remain calm despite the terror he feels.

            "I remember you guys hanging out that one night close to Thanksgiving," Finn says. "Are you friends with him?

            "I was just helping him out with Rachel's present, remember?"

            "Yeah, but first Blaine said that you guys were friends and that you texted."

            "We text about Glee stuff sometimes. And we've had coffee a few times. We were - we were partners for a project in French class once," Kurt lies, knowing that French is the only class that he and Blaine share that no one else from Glee is taking.

            "So you're not like...close friends?" Finn questions.

            "Not - uh - really," Kurt replies, hating the fact that he stumbles over the answer. "Blaine's about as close to me as you are on the friendship scale."

For some bizarre reason, Finn's face becomes deathly pale and he looks like he's just seen a freaking ghost.

            "What?" Kurt asks warily.

            "Uh...nothing. Just - never mind. That's, um, cool. That you guys are friends, I mean. It's cool. Weird that you don't really talk at school, though."

            "It's not like you do that either. I expect he doesn't for the same reason."

Finn's pale face becomes red and he ducks his head in what appears to be embarrassment. He isn't a bad guy, Kurt knows, and Finn has never been actively cruel to him in any way. The passive sort of cruelty stings sometimes, but Kurt has become used to it. He doesn't want to make Finn feel bad, but he doesn't want to perpetuate the idea that Finn's stupid behavior is right.

            "It's the way it is," Kurt says. "I don't want to fight about this. I just want you to leave the situation alone because every time you bring it up, you make it sound like I'm not allowed to have as many friends as you do."

            "I don't mean to do that, though."

            "I know. But it's what happens. So just - can you drop it? Please?"

After chewing his lip for a few moments, as if it's the most difficult request he's ever head, Finn finally nods.

            "Yeah. Okay."

-

Three days later, Blaine is sweating more than he has in a while, beating the crap out of a punching bag in the locker room while pretending that it's Dave Karofsky's face. The guy had returned to school today after his short suspension and the glares he kept sending Blaine all day just made his skin crawl in an extremely gross kind of way. He wanted to scream. Actually, with every five or so punches, he imagines that it's Finn's face instead. He's been acting so...different these past few days. Sometimes, he'll talk right over Blaine whenever they're in Glee, completely ignoring Blaine's suggestions for songs or dance moves. He acts like Blaine isn't there, or that he isn't worth considering, or that he's just sticky gum on the bottom of his shoe that he can't wait to be rid of. He eyes Blaine strangely in the hallways, staring at him for just a few seconds too long, like he's making calculations in his head. And after Kurt had told Blaine about the conversation he had with his brother a few nights ago, Blaine is officially on high alert. Santana knowing about them is one thing, but if Finn somehow figures this out, it's an entirely different ordeal.

Fifteen more minutes, he tells himself after a particularly forceful punch to the bag, and then he'll shower and meet Rachel for dinner. Maybe he'll be too content from his workout to be very annoyed with her tonight and dinner will go by quickly. After that, he hopes to sneak an hour or so in with Kurt. He read about this nifty thing online, something he can do with his fingers that Kurt might let him try. If Blaine asks nicely, of course. Because Blaine's a nice guy. He just really wants to put his fingers in Kurt's ass.

The door to the locker room swings open.

In walks Finn Hudson, just as tall as ever. He strides over to Blaine without a word at first, stuffing his hands in his pockets as if that makes him appear less intimidating.

It doesn't work. Blaine's throat closes up, fear joining the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Glee rehearsal ended half an hour ago. Why is Finn still here?

            "We should talk," Finns says plainly.

Blaine does his very best not to faint.

Or run.

Or puke.

Why does this keep happening to him?