Kurt Hummel never thought he would feel cheap in his life, but at this moment, he really, really does.

He stands in front of his little bathroom mirror, hot water pouring from the sink faucet as he scrubs diligently at the inside of his Cheerio pants. Stains on these pants are just – just not an option.

“I’ve – I’ve never done anything before. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Shh, we’ll take it slow, doll.”

It’s not as if Sebastian made him feel cheap, Kurt reminds himself. Sebastian’s not really the one that did anything. He didn’t like, force him to take his pants off or anything.

Obviously. Otherwise he wouldn’t be scrubbing dried come out of his uniform pants right now.

Kurt just never realized how quickly one could orgasm when one has never been touched in such a way by a very, very attractive male. So really, all they’d done was make out (a lot) and, you know, Sebastian had placed his knee in just the right spot (all throughout said make out session).

In the back of Kurt’s Navigator.

Ugh.

Kurt shuts off the water, tossing the pants in the sink. It’s not like anything really happened. He didn’t have like, sex sex with a guy he’s only known for two days.

“I’m – I’m sorry. God, I can’t believe I-”

Sebastian laughed. “Don’t worry. It was hot. And you can always repay me later.”

Staring into the bathroom mirror, Kurt feels like a child. He had always thought that sex was some kind of mutual thing, whether in a relationship or not. He had thought it was about give a take, doing it for the other person because you want to make them feel good. Repayment isn’t exactly the word Kurt associates with sex but, well, being a virgin could complicate the lingo or something.

Basically, the whole experience had been really hot and, ultimately, satisfying for him.

But, and Kurt can’t even believes he’s thinking this, he misses the smell of gin and rosewater.

School is completely fine for the next two days. Kurt does his very best not to look at Blaine or even be aware of his presence because he knows that, if he does, he’s going to have these stupid, useless pangs in his chest about which he can do absolutely nothing.

Sebastian treats him the same, though. He’s all flirtatious, inappropriate comments accompanied by a heavy, lustful gaze. Occasionally Kurt will feel a slight pressure on his lower back from Sebastian’s hand or a soft, silken touch along the shell of his ear.

What’s weird is the fact that…no one…cares. Sebastian isn’t taunted. Kurt isn’t shoved around. The jocks keep their comments and jeers to themselves and it seems like all the girls are too busy swooning over Sebastian’s good looks and/or wetting themselves when he even touches them to be bothered to say anything. Now, Kurt doesn’t know if it’s because Sebastian kind of defies the hetero-homo boundary because he looks like an Abercrombie model or if the Cheerio uniform is actually, in itself, some sort of warning.

Chancing the tiniest, teensiest, slightest look at Blaine at the end of the school day on Thursday, Kurt’s heart hopes his uniform is serving its intended purpose.

“Well,” Blaine says, snapping his book shut, bringing their final tutoring session to a close, “I think you’ll pass.”

Kurt heaves a deep, relieved sigh. “You think so?”

“If you don’t, I’ll pay your dry cleaning bill for the next month.”

“A generous offer,” Kurt quips, “but our coach has a budget for that.”

“Coffee, then. For two months. If you fail, I’ll pay for your coffee for two months. Shop of your choosing.”

“Deal,” Kurt nods, the corner of his lips lifting ever so slightly.

Blaine ducks his head and smiles, removing his glasses and plucking a cloth from his pocket. In quick, practiced movements, he begins to clean the lenses. For some strange reason, Kurt is entranced by the action. Like, he knows that glasses can be removed and he’s often thought about what Blaine would look like without them, but to actually see Blaine’s face without the thick frames is an experience in itself.

“Can I see them?” Kurt blurts out, words leaving his throat before he can even comprehend what he just said.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, sure,” Blaine says, handing the glasses over to Kurt.

Kurt takes them, thumbing the edge of the rim where plastic meets lens, sure not to smudge them. He slides them on and the world shifts. He can’t focus on anything but every edge he sees is sharp, yet tilting and holy shit, Blaine’s like, super blind.

“You really can’t see, can you?” Kurt asks, eyes crossing on their own.

Blaine snorts out a bit of laughter. Kurt’s pretty sure it’s because he looks entirely ridiculous at the moment.

And Kurt never willingly subjects himself to looking anything less than composed and pristine.

So he takes the frames off and hands them back. Once his vision clears, he sees Blaine without the lenses. A tiny, red indention has formed over the bridge of his nose but good lord, his eyes are just as big without the frames and just as glossy. It’s like he was born with these big doe eyes, the kind that lots of babies seem to have, but he never grew out of them because they’re still huge and gorgeous. But it’s also like – like something’s missing.

When Blaine slips the glasses back onto his face, Kurt realizes that the glasses were missing, of course. Those big, black, bulky frames are as much a part of Blaine as his eyes or his nose or his lips. The glasses help make Blaine…Blaine. The glasses belong to the same boy who had given him his first kiss, the same boy who had called him beautiful.

“Can talk to you about something?” Kurt asks. “I mean, if you have time?”

“My parents are in D.C.,” Blaine informs. “They won’t be back until Sunday. I have plenty of time to talk tonight. If – if you want.”

“Oh. Okay, um, well…can we not talk about it, uh, here? It’s kind of – kind of personal.”

“…Do you wanna sit in the back seat of my car again?” Blaine asks with this knowing, playful look that makes Kurt’s stomach flip.

“No,” he says at once because, yeah, Kurt knows exactly what goes on in the backs of cars now and that is definitely not what he’s after.

“Okay,” Blaine says, attempting to hide a smile. “I mean, we could go to my house. Since my parents aren’t home. And, um, you said your dad thinks you’re the one tutoring me and I don’t really want to lie to-”

“Your house is fine,” Kurt interrupts.

He really doesn’t need his dad asking Blaine questions. Kurt can just imagine the conversation. ‘Oh, is my son a good tutor?’ ‘He could be, sir. I’m sure he learned a lot of things from me.’

“O-okay,” Blaine says, a bit shocked. “Just, uh, follow me?”

“Yeah. Try not to lose me.”