Kurt glanced up from his homework to steal yet another look at the beautiful boy across the table from him. At that same moment, Blaine's eyes rose from the pages of the textbook in front of him and locked on Kurt's. And for the millionth time, those eyes made his cheeks flush and a thrill go down his spine.

A devastating smile graced Blaine's face and he quirked his eyebrows toward the boy opposite him. Kurt had to remind himself, yet again, that he did not have to quickly look away to avoid any awkwardness. Blaine was his. He mirrored Blaine, raising his eyebrows briefly with a smirk. Blaine tapped his foot against his under the table. Kurt nudged back before giving Blaine a scolding frown and whispering, "Excuse me, Mr. Anderson, but I'm here at Dalton to learn. You're distracting me from my studies."

Blaine's smirk only widened into a smile, "My sincerest apologies; I didn't realize I was such a disturbance. I'll keep my hands to myself. I promise."

"Thank you." Kurt directed his eyes back to the book in front of him, carefully keeping any hint of a smile off his face (a difficult task with Blaine's charming grin directed at him).
With a sigh, he really did try to focus on the French in front of him, but it was of no use. He felt the touch of a foot rubbing its way up his calf. He refused to coddle Blaine's antics. He would not fall victim to that devastating charm with one touch of a uniform shoe. But Blaine was persistent and when Kurt tried to shoot him a quick look, Blaine's eyes were on his history book, only the slightest smile at the corners of his mouth giving any hint that he was fully aware of what he was doing.

"You promised." Kurt hissed.

Blaine's eyes remained trained on his book, but once again he flashed that smile and held both hands up from the tabletop. He had indeed kept his hands to himself.

Kurt kicked him in the shin in reply.

Blaine jumped a little, and his eyes flew up to meet Kurt's. His mouth turned down into a pout.

Kurt did feel a little bad about that. He forgot his "little kicks" could actually carry some power, and he hadn't actually meant to hurt Blaine. It was just so hard to keep feigning irritation with that gorgeous face constantly flashing him smiles and those chocolaty eyes focused so entirely on him. Still, he held his charade, "Serves you right."

"I'm going to bruise." Blaine whined, folding his injured leg across his lap to rub the assaulted shin.

"Oh, please. And people say I'm the girly one in the relationship." Kurt rolled his eyes and refocused his attention on copying verb conjugations.

"It's not girly to bruise when a football kicker comes at you point blank." Even injured, Blaine did not give in. He sighed loudly a few times, and when Kurt didn't respond, he dropped his head onto the tabletop with a thump.

"Study." Kurt commanded in the most authoritative whisper he could muster.

Blaine's head remained on the table, and he didn't respond.

"Suit yourself." Kurt flipped the page in his French book with diva-like bravado in a grand show of his indifference…. except the problem was, he was not indifferent. With Blaine finally quiet and not nudging at him, he was unsettled. After nearly ten minutes of uninterrupted studying he stole a glance in Blaine's direction.

Blaine's head remained on the table, but he'd turned his face from its mahogany surface to focus on the text beside him, his eyes scanning over the words with dull interest. Kurt looked back down to his own text, but it was no use. He waited a few moments so Blaine wouldn't be able to claim victory in stealing his attention before stacking his notes neatly and returning them to his messenger bag. Blaine's bored focus remained on his book, apparently surrendered to Kurt's off-putting.
Perfect; he, Kurt Hummel, had won for once. He snapped his French book shut, and finally Blaine's attention shifted back to him, his eyebrows raised hopefully. Kurt gave a nod of approval to say yes, Blaine could give up on his homework. Blaine shoved his things unceremoniously into his own bag, making Kurt inadvertently cringe. For someone so put together, Blaine could be such a guy.

A familiar rush of adoration quickly overwhelmed his momentary disgust when Blaine's fingers slipped between his own as they made their exit, "Have you been checked for ADHD?"

Blaine tilted his head with a smile and shook his head, "Nope. Can't say that I have."

"You may want to look into it." Kurt said dryly as Blaine tugged him along toward the parking lot. Low, dark clouds hung in the sky.

"I am only distracted when it comes to you." Blaine squeezed his hand once and offered him a quick wink as they reached the car.

Another rush of adrenaline and butterflies colored Kurt's cheeks. To maintain his fa�ade of irritation, he could only manage a single, monotone word as he made to reach for the handle of the passenger door. "Hopeless."

Blaine twisted Kurt around by the hand he held and wedged Kurt's back against the door, his own body pressed close. "Hopelessly, madly, and endlessly. Distracted. By. You."

Kurt fully gave up. Blaine's playful antics could be brushed aside with mock irritation, but with those hazel eyes burning his own, and those deliciously pink lips so close… he pressed his mouth to Blaine's without a second thought.
He had thought the rush, the completely-out-of-breath-but-never-want-to-come-up-for-air feeling, the sensation of so much adrenaline flowing that his excitement almost felt like fear sensation...he thought it would fade after the first few times their lips met in the earliest days of their relationship. Sure, there were more quick pecks, mindless lips brushing against cheeks, quick touches of one boy's mouth to the other's hair now, but the passionate kisses... they could still take his breath away every time.

Blaine pulled away slowly, a smile already turning up the corners of his mouth, showing off a line of perfect teeth. Blaine could constantly shock Kurt, but he was also comforted by his mannerisms that came about like clockwork. The bashful way he laughed a little, a blush touching his cheeks, a self-conscious touch to the back of his neck. Clockwork.

"Every time," Kurt laughed a little to himself, shaking his head.

"Huh?" Blaine's hand was still at his neck.

Kurt leaned forward and gave him one more peck on the mouth before opening his car door, "I just can't get over how perfectly dreamy you are."

"Comes with practice." Blaine grinned as he walked around the car to the driver's side.

Kurt couldn't bring himself to point out the little habits to Blaine; he was too afraid they would end if his counterpart were to be made aware of them. Blaine started the car and pulled out of his parking space, throwing charming smiles and nods to their fellow Dalton peers who were also dispersed throughout the lot. Kurt watched him out of the corner of his eye. If anyone's up there… thank you. He didn't know how it was possible…at times he could barely believe it had even happened. How had he, Kurt Hummel- the dumpster tossee, the awkward gay kid, the sexually oblivious, forever conflicted loser, the guy who had finally just begun to resign himself to not every having even a true flirtation in his high school years- landed him? He glanced over at Blaine again- that smile, those eyes, that endless charm, the Ivy League intelligence vibe, the endless air of confidence and charisma- Blaine was perfect. And he was Kurt's… for how long?

"My, aren't we pensive today."

"Hmm?" Kurt shook his head, meeting Blaine's eyes briefly. As they pulled out of the lot into traffic, fat raindrops began to fall, hitting the car with audible plops.

Blaine set his lips into a solemn line and furrowed his brows in a caricature of Kurt's own face for a moment before glancing at him out of the corner of his eye once again, "What are you thinking about over there?"

Kurt watched as the splatter of raindrops became a steadier stream down the windshield, "Nothing. Just… it never quite seems like any of this can be real."

Blaine turned up the speed of his windshield wipers, "What can't be?"

"I don't know…" Kurt tried to keep his voice flippant, his eyes drifting toward his window, "Being at Dalton away from Karofsky… you and me…"

Blaine reached a hand over to squeeze Kurt's knee lightly, "It's real. I promise."

Kurt turned his gaze back to the boy beside him with a smile. He didn't need to be dumping any further insecurities on Blaine just now, especially with the steadily increasing down pour occupying most all of his attention. When they finally reached Kurt's driveway, Blaine was leaned so far over to see, his chest nearly touched the steering wheel. "Jesus, it's really coming down out there."

"Can you come in for awhile until it lets up? I don't want you driving home in this." Kurt unbuckled his seatbelt, frowning at the drops he knew would soon soak his uniform, hair, and fabulous new bag.

"It's Friday. I had assumed I would be coming in for awhile." Blaine offered a look of mock hurt.

"All the more excuse for you to stay longer," Kurt replied, and then groaned, "God, I'm going to get soaked."

"Unless you're a wicked witch or you're made of sugar, I doubt you'll melt." Blaine chuckled, pulling the keys from the ignition.

"I know you've seen Wicked, so you should be well aware she does not melt." Kurt sniffed incredulously. "As for the sugar. Maybe I am."

With only a devilish grin for warning, Blaine suddenly leaned over the space between them and sloppily licked Kurt's cheek.

Kurt cried out in shock, rubbing the cuff of one of his sleeves against the spot furiously, "Disgusting."

Blaine only sat back in his seat, smacking his lips a few times with a ponderous look on his face before shaking his head slowly, "…Not quite sugar… You should be fine."

"I should mess up your hair just for that," Kurt growled, eyeing Blaine's neatly gelled locks.

"You'd have to catch me first." Blaine suddenly flung himself from the car, his door slamming shut from the kick of the sole of his shoe as he disappeared into the downpour.

Forgetting his vanity, at least for the moment, Kurt, too, shot out his door, chasing after the outline of a blue blazer. He wasn't sure if the rain had clouded his vision or if it was simply natural playfulness, but rather than make for the door, Blaine had darted into the front lawn, sending little waves of water up from the sodden grass with each drop of his feet.

Blaine was a lot of things, but apparently sure on his feet in wet grass was not one of them. He skidded and stumbled, giving Kurt enough time to nimbly close the space between them and grab hold of the back of Blaine's uniform. They both fell to the ground-Kurt landed square on his butt.

Blaine laughed, crawling on his knees toward Kurt from his own splayed drop to the earth. He found Kurt's face and pressed his mouth against his, his hot breath contrasting wonderfully with the cold rain that pelted their faces, "Still all together? No fingers melted off or anything?"

"Check for yourself." The rain had melted away Blaine's hair products and those boyish waves were stuck to his forehead where Kurt was free to run his fingers through them. He pulled Blaine's mouth back to his.

When Blaine pulled away, he was half shouting through the near roar of the rain, "I tried to count them, I really did, but you know how I get distracted…"

A flash of lightening lit up the sky and was followed shortly by a crack of thunder, making Kurt jump and scaring any flirtatiousness out of him for the moment, "We should get inside."

Blaine sought out Kurt's hands and pulled him to his feet before they both jogged toward the front door where Kurt was quick to get out his house keys, anticipating another streak of lightening.

The wave of warmth and glow of lights from the house was a welcome relief. Kurt wrinkled his nose as he pulled his shoes and socks off.

"I hate wet socks." Blaine whined, pulling his own shoes off.

"Jeez, is it really comin' down that hard out there?" Burt Hummel turned the corner out of the kitchen and stared at the pair in front of him.

Kurt made a gesture toward the window where thick sheets of water trailed down the glass outside, "See for yourself."

Burt glanced toward the glass before returning his attention back to the boys in front of him, "Still, just that quick run from the car…you two look like you went swimming."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a brief look, but Kurt only shrugged.

"Whoa, dude, did you go for a swim or something?" Finn emerged from the kitchen, a grilled cheese in hand.

"Yes, Finn, we took a quick dip in the new pool out front." Kurt was peeling off his blazer, but he threw his step-brother a despairing look.

Finn paused for a brief moment, considering the possible pool before turning his attention toward Blaine. "You can borrow some clothes, man. I mean keep the boxers or whatever, but I think you'd be happier in something of mine than Kurt's."

Kurt shot Finn a look, but offered no comment. He knew it was true--even if Finn's closet looked like he'd raided half of American Eagle, the wardrobe selection would feel much more natural to Blaine than some of Kurt's ensembles.

"Thank you, Finn. I appreciate it." Blaine flashed Finn a smile.

"There's a shower downstairs if you want to clean up a bit, kid. Both of you look like you could use one. Kurt, you can use mine and Carol's," Burt cracked the beer open in his hand.

"Why would we need to…" Kurt looked to Blaine and stopped himself short. Dirt stained Blaine's usually pristine Dalton trousers, and a streak of mud was visible along his jaw line. Blaine grinned back at Kurt, confirming that he, too, was a muddied mess.

"Got awful muddy for a quick jog into the house," Burt commented, his eyes shifting between the two as he took a swig of his beer.

Kurt's eyes went to the ground and he felt a flash of heat in his cheeks. "Towels are under the sink, Blaine." He mumbled lamely before rushing up the stairs toward the upstairs bathroom to wash away the mud, and-- he hoped-- the momentary embarrassment.

"Thanks again, Finn." He heard Blaine's cheerful voice as he closed the bathroom door securely. He rolled his eyes. Endlessly charming.

Once he was cleansed of his little romp in the yard and warmed by the heat of the shower, Kurt was in much higher spirits. He pulled on a robe from the door before dashing down the stairs. He caught a glimpse of the other three men sitting in the family room, the sound of a sports game emanating from the television. Comforted that Blaine was momentarily entertained, he settled into his skincare routine and selected a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt from his wardrobe. Blaine liked it when he wore dark colors like that. With a final smoothing of his hair, he returned up the stairs.

Blaine was not nearly so carefully put together-- whether out of lack of hair product or lack of care, Kurt wasn't sure. His hair had been brushed, but it remained in its loose curls, not the normal gelled styling he had perfected for his days at Dalton. Finn's jeans must have proven too big, because Blaine wore a pair of flannel blue pajama pants and a white t-shirt. He was as breathtakingly handsome as ever.

Blaine looked over toward Kurt with a smile, "You look nice."

"I do what I can," Kurt smiled briefly; he glanced toward the television with little interest, "What are you watching?"

"It's March Madness, Kurt, they're recapping-" Finn paused mid-sentence, mouth hanging open, to listen to the anchor tell him something apparently deeply important.

"Right, how could I forget?" Kurt rolled his eyes, not really caring to hear what or who they were recapping on ESPN.

"I watched the game yesterday, I don't need to see this," Blaine smiled toward Kurt.

"Is it all right if Blaine and I hang out in my room, Dad?" Kurt was relieved to hear he wouldn't be forced to feign interest through a sports program.

"Leave the door open," Burt replied, his own eyes leaving the screen briefly to look at Blaine, "Nice talking to you, kid. It'll be interesting to see if you're right."

"Oh, I will be, sir." Blaine laughed as he followed Kurt toward the basement steps.

"Do you have an on and off switch or some sort of dial to tone it down?" Kurt glanced over his shoulder at Blaine as they reached the base of the stairs.

"Excuse me?" Blaine's eyebrows went up, confusion wrinkling his brow.

"Between the manners, natural charisma, dashing smile, and devastatingly good looks; you are always so freaking charming." Kurt settled onto his bed, his legs folded neatly.

Blaine smiled bashfully, a hand reaching up toward his bangs to touch them almost self-consciously, "Is that a problem?"

"No one, and I mean no one, is as on all the time as Mr. Blaine Anderson." Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes.

Blaine seated himself on the edge of Kurt's bed, looking conflicted, "You think it's an act?"

Seeing the hurt in Blaine's normally confident persona sent a twinge of guilt through Kurt's conscience. He extended a leg and nudged Blaine's back with his foot, "Of course not. I just think you're setting a bar that none of us mere mortals can ever hope to reach."

Blaine turned his eyes towards Kurt, a smile reappearing in its normal place when Kurt extended his other leg and prodded at Blaine's side with both feet, "On the contrary, how are any of us supposed to look halfway decent next to you with your unwavering sense of style?"

Kurt turned his nose up in the air and reclined slightly into his pillows, "Unfortunately not everyone appreciates perfect style."

Blaine twisted around, extending his body over Kurt's. He folded his arms low on the other boy's sternum and rested his chin atop them. "Apparently, not everyone appreciates charm, either."

Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine's hair absently, "It is not out of lack of appreciation that I complain. More out of jealousy and fear."

"Of who? Of what?" Blaine frowned.

"Of everyone who gets the chance to fall victim to that devastating smile of yours, and of one of those people intriguing you much more than I do," Kurt's hands slipped from Blaine's head.

Blaine's frown deepened and then was replaced by a sad smile, "Never. Not possible."

"You just wait." Kurt tapped Blaine's nose once with the tip of an index finger.

Blaine pulled himself up higher, his hands on either side of Kurt; his face hovering so close that Kurt could smell Blaine's usual spearmint gum on his breath, "When are you gonna get it through your head, huh? I want you. Only you."

Kurt smiled slightly back, his fears momentarily less sharp, but they remained all the same.

Blaine seemed to read his mind. His voice lowered to a silky purr, "I might smile for everyone, but do I do this for all of them, too?"

Kurt savored the taste of his mouth. Hot and flavored with mint and something that was entirely Blaine. He traced his hands along the smooth muscles of his lover's back. He was by no means some rippled body builder, but still the contours of the small of his back, his shoulders, and his arms- all were smooth and firm beneath Kurt's touch.

Even as they ran out of breath and the kiss ended, Blaine pulled his face away only so far as to allow some oxygen to be allowed. His lips still brushed Kurt's as he murmured, "So?"

"So you've made your point." Kurt sighed contentedly.

"I'm the luckiest guy in the world." Kurt could not see it, but he felt the grin settling onto Blaine's face.

Kurt didn't argue, too happy to raise any protest and not daring to rain on Blaine's sunny disposition just then. Instead he kissed him again, not quite as deeply, but passionately nonetheless.

Blaine finally rolled off of him, settling his head back on Kurt's chest, his eyes directed toward the ceiling. They chattered mindlessly and lazily about anything and everything. As the conversation drifted from topic to topic, Kurt absently resumed his earlier activity of tracing his fingers through the loose tangles of the other boy's hair, his elbow rested against Blaine's shoulder as he listened to Blaine's thoughts on a new song for the Warblers' next season of competition. His fingers trailed a slow pathway from the soft curls brushing Blaine's left ear to the hair at his crown then forward and then back to their starting position. He watched as Blaine's hands illustrated his thoughts in the air above him, his eyes still trained on the ceiling as though seeing the choreography on a movie screen somewhere above him, mindless to Kurt's pattern tracings atop his head.

Kurt began to work on memorizing the contours below his fingertips, the gentle arch of the top of his ear, the curve as he traced upward and back, a spot of slightly more unruly hair toward the crown... On and on he went, mapping the territory below his hand. He left the usual pathway once he knew it to forge new paths, learn new spots. He offered a comment on Blaine's elaborate trio scheme, smiling when his thoughts served to increase Blaine's excitement, his head bobbing briefly in agreement and a smile sliding into place as he chattered on. His fingers found Blaine's hairline hidden beneath the curls that swept across his forehead. He started at the far right and followed it left. Two things happened so quickly he barely had time to register either one. His pinky brushed a thin line of lightly raised skin, breaking the smooth path he had been following. That spot was like pressing a button. Blaine's voice stopped and his hand shot up to grab Kurt's wrist so quickly it caused Kurt to cry out in surprise. He retracted his fingers from the dark hair, but his hand remained trapped in Blaine's grip. He looked down in slight alarm at his boyfriend. Blaine looked as startled as Kurt felt; he quickly released Kurt's hand and sat up, "Kurt, I'm sorry- I don't know- Jesus, did I hurt you?"

Kurt studied the anxiety on Blaine's features- an expression he could only ever remember seeing when Blaine had beat himself up over his impromptu serenade attempt for Jeremiah, "Of course not; you just scared me…"

Blaine nodded slowly; his eyes remained on Kurt's wrist though; assuring himself he hadn't caused any visible damage, "You're sure? I really didn't mean to… I mean- I just- You startled me, I guess."

Kurt frowned. Concise, witty Blaine… at a loss for words? He reached out to place a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder but was only further disturbed to see Blaine jump a little at the action. He dropped his hand and tried for a comforting softness in his voice instead; careful to leave any of the confusion out of his tone, "Blaine, what is it? What's wrong?"

Blaine shook his head again slowly. Suddenly he tried for a smile, though it looked uncomfortable and misplaced with his eyes still so anxiety-filled. He touched his forehead briefly, "Hit my head pretty bad when I was a kid… still pretty trigger happy about it I guess."

"Pretty trigger happy to say the least; I thought you were going to try and tear my hand off." Kurt tried to get away from the strange tension too, inspecting his fingernails carefully.

Blaine's face finally looked more his own, but the concern remained, "You're sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Well," Kurt flitted his eyes from his fingernails to his wrist, giving it a quick once over before extending it toward Blaine, "Nothing you can't kiss better."

Blaine finally fell back into himself as he took Kurt's arm gently and kissed it lightly from the crook of his elbow all the way up to his fingers before pressing the open palm against his own cheek.

Kurt smiled, ignoring the fleeting thought that Blaine had his palm pressed to his right cheek, further from the scar than the opposite side of his face. He leaned in and gave Blaine a quick peck on the mouth. Blaine settled back into voicing his Warbler brainstorms from where he sat cross-legged in front of Kurt. Kurt nodded along, but couldn't help but let his thoughts be occupied by how quickly Blaine was able to dismiss the minor episode that had just occurred. Finally, Kurt couldn't help himself any longer.

"What happened?" He blurted out.

Blaine's hands momentarily paused in the air before him, "Does something have to happen to have them come down the aisles?"

Kurt shook his head, "No; I mean, how did the scar happen?"

Blaine's smile noticeably faded, his hands falling into his lap. "Why do you ask?"

"It must have been something pretty intense to leave that kind of knee-jerk response to someone just touching it," Kurt nudged Blaine's knee with his own and smiled, "Stop being all cutesy aloof about it and just tell me."

Blaine smiled briefly, but his eyes were on the pillows behind Kurt. He rubbed the back of his neck before letting out a long breath, "My dad's toolbox…it fell on my head… trying to pull it down off a shelf."

"A toolbox?" Kurt said, trying to keep any note of disappointment out of his voice. That was what so much fuss was over? A toolbox?

Blaine nodded slowly, "Big, heavy metal thing… probably should have gotten stitches…"

"Baby Blaine drops a fifty pound toolbox on his face and Mom and Dad didn't whisk him off to the E.R?" Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"Uh… I didn't tell them." Blaine's eyes met Kurt's briefly.

"What?" Kurt tried to meet Blaine's eyes. "How could you not tell them? Weren't you like…bleeding all over the carpet?"

Blaine collected his thoughts for a moment before responding, "They weren't around when it happened… I knew they'd flip if I told them, so I just dealt with it myself. We had a medical kit and all that so I bandaged it up and they were none the wiser for it…they still aren't."

"Will you promise me something?" Kurt reached a hand out and rested it on Blaine's knee.

Blaine regarded him suspiciously before nodding slowly, "Sure. What?"

"If you ever drop a music stand on your head or break an ankle dancing or harm yourself in any other Blaine-esque sort of way; you'll tell me so I can help you take care of it?"

Blaine's smile looked almost relieved, "Promise."

The conversation of Blaine's secret accident brought about a whole round of childhood reminiscing for the two of them, and it wasn't until Burt's heavy steps descending down to Kurt's room did their chatter again pause.

Burt looked only briefly uncomfortable as he regarded Kurt's legs draped across Blaine's lap before he directed his attention solely toward his son's friend, "Listen, Kid, it's getting pretty late and it hasn't let up any out there. I think you should spend the night here; you shouldn't be driving in this stuff."

Kurt knew better than to believe Burt intended for Blaine to sleep in his bed—he would most likely be offered the couch. He was, however, surprised by Blaine's polite response.

"That's very kind of you sir, but I really should be heading home; my mother will be worried if I don't show up." Kurt hadn't expected a refusal.

"She'd worry a hell of a lot more if she thought you were driving in this. Why don't you give her a call? I can talk to her if she needs some reassurance about where you are." When Burt Hummel's mind was made up, there was no arguing to be done.

Blaine nodded, a little reluctantly, but smiled all the same, "Thank you, Mr. Hummel. I'll let her know."

Burt nodded and gave Kurt a brief look, "I'll ask Carol to make up the couch for you up here."

Blaine pulled his phone from his pocket and began scrolling through the contacts in search of his mother's number.

Kurt smiled, hiding any hurt he might feel, "I didn't think you would be one to turn down a slumber party. Especially our first one both of us might actually remember."

Blaine smiled, already holding the phone up to his ear and waiting for someone to pick up on the other end, "I just didn't want to make your dad uncomfortable, and- Hi, Mom!"

Kurt listened to Blaine' side of the conversation in silence.

"- Don't worry about it, I'm sure it will be fine…yes…I love you, too. Night." Blaine ended the call and smiled briefly at Kurt. "Mommy was indeed relieved to hear I wouldn't be taking my car out into Hurricane Ohio."

"Hummels are never wrong." Kurt smirked.

Later that night, Kurt lay in bed, listening to Finn's soft snores in the bed across the room and the white noise-like sound of the rain still falling outside. He glanced at his phone. 2:47. Everyone would be asleep. He carefully pulled himself out from under the covers. He didn't bother tiptoeing as he made his way toward the stairs. Finn could sleep through a bomb being dropped on the house.

He did, however, quiet his footsteps as he neared the top of the stairs. He smiled briefly, congratulating himself on his own sneakiness. Blaine could be spontaneous and shocking- licking him across the face like someone's amiable puppy, sprinting around in a downpour, but it was Kurt's turn to be the shocking one. He was going to wake Blaine up with a passionate kiss. No, he mentally corrected himself as he slowly coaxed the door open, a forbidden kiss. He paused briefly as he entered the main floor and while he waited for his eyes to adjust to the surrounding dark he continued to daydream. Yes, he would kneel down in front of him and wake him up with a shocking, passionate, forbidden kiss while his family lay asleep and unknowing while the rain poured down around the house. Now who's the devastatingly sexy one?

When his eyes could easily make out the outline of the couch he made his way toward it, all confidence and anticipation.

He slipped down until he sat on the edge of the couch and bent low so his face was near Blaine's, but rather than immediately press his lips to his lover's, he wanted to admire that serene and peaceful face. He frowned. Blaine's face was neither serene nor peaceful. His brow was furrowed, and, now so close, Kurt could hear Blaine' labored breathing, see his hand clenching and unclenching at the blanket around his shoulders.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, but Blaine's agitation only increased, a soft whimper escaping his lips.

Kurt reached out and shook his shoulder gently; he spoke just a little louder, "Blaine."

That time, Blaine shot up right, a garbled yelp escaping his mouth before Kurt could clamp his hand over it.

"Shh!" Kurt glanced toward the steps, calming just slightly when he didn't see the hall light snap on. Only once he was reassured his father wouldn't come charging in did he turn his attention back to Blaine. His eyes were wild with fear; his face clammy beneath Kurt's hand. Kurt slid back further into the couch and released his hold over Blaine's mouth.

Blaine's eyes darted from one place to the other- a hunted rabbit; cornered.

"Blaine, it was just a dream. A nightmare." Kurt whispered, running a soothing hand over Blaine's arm. He could feel goose bumps below his fingers.

Briefly, Blaine touched a shaky hand to his hair-- the scar. He glanced at his fingertips before suddenly slumping into Kurt as though exhausted.

"It's all right, I'm here," Kurt murmured all the things his parents had said to him as a child when he awoke in the night terrified of the monsters of his unconscious.

Blaine struggled to get his breathing under control before sitting back up right. He dropped his face into his hands briefly before looking shakily toward Kurt, "Bad dream."

Kurt tried to look reassuring, bobbing his head up and down, "That's right, only a bad dream."

Blaine breathed in deeply through his nose, letting it escape audibly out his mouth, slowly coming back to himself. He looked toward the stairs leading up and then back at Kurt, "I didn't wake you, did I? Or them?"

"Of course not; I wouldn't have ever known if I hadn't come up here to see you," Kurt whispered back, still studying the person before him. Blaine's elbows were on his knees and his face propped in his hands. His entire body slumped forward. Kurt rubbed a hand across his back in soothing circles, "You're all right now."

The words were like an elixir. Blaine nodded his head and straightened himself up, an arm slipping behind Kurt's back and around his waist, squeezing gently, "Yeah, I'm all right now. Better than all right."

Kurt nuzzled his head into Blaine's shoulder and the two listened to the rain outside. Kurt thought back on his own night terrors. When he was very small, it had been monsters with too many eyes and teeth; somewhere around the age of eight or nine he had a reoccurring one of being nailed inside a coffin and buried, his screams of protest unheard by anyone, "What was it about? Your nightmare I mean."

Blaine was silent for so long Kurt thought that perhaps he hadn't heard him, but before he could repeat the question Blaine responded.

"I don't remember," Kurt felt Blaine drop the side of his face to his hair, "I don't want to remember."