Blaine felt considerably better after a few hours back in the store, fixing everything up. He'd already replaced half of the shelves, mopped the floor, stopped for a quick break when Kurt had brought him a coffee ('It's nothing; my office is only a couple of blocks away. No, Blaine, I promise I don't mind you being a little sweaty. I really don't mind.') and now he was working on the main display case, which would be full of loaves and cakes and pastries on Saturday. Everything was running according to schedule, and he was just drilling a bracket into place and singing along to the radio when he heard a voice behind him.

"Someone's looking perky today."

Blaine spun around to see Santana in the doorway just as her eyes were dragging themselves up from his ass. He grinned.

"Hi! You just missed Kurt."

She ignored him and surveyed the shop.

"It's nice in here. I like stores that are daring enough to run with no stock."

"I'm just doing some… refurbishments."

"Just a thought – maybe have some bread in here. Anyway, I came to see you." Blaine frowned. "What? I like you. There's no reason we can't hang out, just us."

"Oh. Well, sure, if you want. How've you been?"

She smirked.

"Not as good as you, by all accounts."

"Sorry?"

"I called him last night to see if he could take the kids tomorrow when we go for our six month check, and I got a barrage of excited squawkings."

Blaine smiled and looked at his feet as he felt a blush creeping up his neck.

"Really? Um, your six month check? How exciting."

"Ugh, yes, Blainey, he likes you. I just want to know when you're gonna seal the deal."

Blaine started choking on nothing.

"When- what?"

She sauntered into the shop, swinging the door closed behind her, and leaned on the counter, stretching her legs out so her bright red shoes caught the light.

"Come on, Blaine, you know what I'm talking about. I need to know what Kurt's like in the sack. I need details. I lived with him for three years and all I heard was surprisingly good dirty talk and some groaning. I mean obviously there was blushing and a few guys walking funny and wincing, but no matter how many times I tried to walk in on him it never worked."

Blaine cocked his head.

"Why would you want to-"

"Who knows. Curiosity. Making it even for him walking in on me and Britt in the shower. Maybe I just thought it'd be hot."

"But you're a lesbian."

"Gee, thanks for that." She nodded slowly, her voice dripping with condescension. "I can still appreciate the aesthetic value of a beautiful man with a striking anatomy, even if it's not my weapon of choice. Have fun with that, by the way. You're in for a treat."

Blaine blinked helplessly for a moment then forced himself out of his stupor.

"Look, Santana, I've got a lot to do. And I don't think I should- I mean, I haven't even talked about it with Kurt. And we only kissed yesterday."

"And you're in your late thirties."

"Mid."

"You're not teenagers. You're not virgins. Are you really telling me you haven't thought about it?"

"Well, I-"

"I mean, you've been on what, three dates?"

"It depends how you define-"

"We'll just say three. Holding his hand in hospital definitely counts. If anything, holding out 'til date number four is a little prudish."

"Santana, shouldn't I be talking to Kurt about this? Not his friend who, if I may be blunt, has as much experience of sleeping with men as I do?"

She smirked. She liked Blaine.

"I like you. I mean, you're dead wrong, but you had the balls to say it anyway."

Blaine took a breath and shrugged a little.

"Uh… thanks?"

"No problem. So, if you've never done it, have you googled it? Just so you have some idea of what you're doing?"

He shook his head.

"I have two kids who are both better with computers than me. I've browsed, but I'm always too worried they'd find it."

"That answer was a little too fast."

"I get the feeling you don't like wasting time."

"Well-observed. Okay. Not to be blunt, but what do you know about anal?"

He blinked at her, still slightly taken aback.

"How was that not blunt?"

"Come on, I don't have all day. Did you and Quinn ever… experiment? Even for straight couples, it's a two-way street, if you know what I mean?"

"I really don't."

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I mean, have you ever… inserted anything? You-know-where? I don't just mean with her. What about masturbation? In the shower or something?" His cheeks were getting darker and darker. She gave his shoulder what was probably meant to be a playful punch. Now he was embarrassed and his shoulder hurt. "No judgement here, cupcake."

"Cupcake?"

"You're a baker. I'm trying to play to your strengths. Masturbation is completely normal and healthy, Blaine - unless it's just because the thought of making love to your wife fills you with horror on account of her vagina and whatnot. Then it's a goddamn necessity."

He took a deeper breath and ran his hands through his hair. He went to check the door was locked before turning and leaning back against it.

"Fine. Yes."

"You finger yourself?"

"Jesus, it's not like I do it all the time, but I've…" he closed his eyes, "experimented."

"Great, so you're a bottom. I mean, you see yourself… receiving, rather than giving?"

"Do I have to choose?"

She shrugged.

"Don't think so. Judging from the noises I've heard over time, I'm pretty sure Kurt's cool either way."

"Santana, don't you have somewhere to be-"

"I've got the afternoon off. Let's talk lube."

"Santana!"

"God, you're right. Hygiene first. Now, are you familiar with the concept of douching?"

It took about half an hour. Blaine was bombarded with information he thought would be irrelevant to a lesbian, but she kept going and going until he thought she'd never stop. By the end it was just handy tips for spicing things up and stuff she and Brittany were into and things she'd just read about (did women just hang out reading about gay sex? Was that a thing?) and bondage and breathplay and something about how pinching the ears can increase the blood flow to the penis and how they would need a lot of lube, preferably silicone-based but water-based would work too, and obviously there was the matter of protection and 'I'm sure Kurt's squeaky-clean but you can't be too careful' and Blaine felt like he was going to pass out. But he settled for sitting on the floor.

"Wow."

She knelt next to him and patted his arm.

"You'll get used to it. From what I've heard you'll end up loving it."

He swallowed.

"If you say so."

"Shit, I've got to go. I said I'd run to the supermarket before I get the kids. See you at Kurt's on Wednesday, yeah?"

"Hmm?" Blaine asked, still in shock. "Oh. Yeah. Kurt's."

She gave him a peck on the cheek and a devilish smile and strolled out of the store as if she hadn't just given a thirty minute lecture on the literal ins and outs of anal sex. The bell on the door jingled and kept ringing in Blaine's ears. That was a lot of information to take in at once.

At least it definitely took his mind off everything with Kitty.

He hauled himself to his feet and picked up his drill. He took one look at it and had to put it down again. He saw screws and washers and basically the entire contents of his toolkit and wanted to ground to swallow him. Obviously he wanted to have sex with Kurt. He wanted to do everything with Kurt. The thought of it was enough to make his stomach jump and twist, half scared and half excited, and he liked it. But now it felt like he had to do all of it as soon as possible. God, wasn't he too old to be getting anxious about sex?

Then he remembered just how odd his sexual history was. He knew he was probably worrying about nothing but he started convincing himself he'd have to get over it. They couldn't just hold hands and make out forever. Even if that sounded really nice.

He knew he should be fixing stuff, but he decided to go back into the kitchen and bake something, just a carrot cake, just so he could do one thing without feeling totally clueless. He'd already taken a delivery that morning so he had everything he needed, and he knew it was wasteful to turn on one of the enormous ovens just for one cake but he didn't care. Just the smell of baking filling up the store again made him feel better, and as he was taking the tin out of the oven there was a ring at the door again.

"Hello? Blaine?"

Blaine emerged from the back room with a round sponge on a cooling rack to see Kurt, his smile peeking out from under his scarf. Blaine smiled back.

"Hey! Twice in one day?"

Kurt shrugged.

"I'm self-employed. I can come out for lunch with a… friend," he diverted his gaze from Blaine's eyes to the cake, "if I want. Blaine, you're supposed to be fixing that thing. Did you just make one cake?"

"There's no point making any more if I don't have a case to put them in."

"You see the flaw in your logic?"

"Yeah," he set the cake on the counter, "I don't really care. You want a slice?"

Kurt slid his hand onto Blaine's waist and smiled against his lips.

"Mmm, you bet I do." He kissed him, not deeply, but longer than he'd been able to before. When they finally parted Blaine was smiling.

"I hope you were talking about me. This cake doesn't deserve that level of enthusiasm; it's not even frosted."

Kurt grinned.

"Damn. I'm sure the cake will still be just as delicious as-"

He closed his mouth tightly. Blaine grinned.

"As delicious as…?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Let's cut it."

"You think I'm delicious?"

"Not any more. Give me some food or I'm leaving."

Blaine smiled but said nothing else. He cut them each a slice and they perched on the counter to eat.

"Good day?"

"Not bad. One lady came in and hired me to design her 'fucking mansion' as she put it. I liked her."

"Mansion?"

Kurt nodded, his mouth full of cake.

"Yep. She wants a pink room. A whole room just full of pink. It's not even a bedroom or anything. Its whole job is being pink. I can't wait."

Blaine laughed, spitting crumbs everywhere.

"It sounds amazing."

"So you've apparently made no progress here since I left. What have you been up to?"

"Oh. Santana came in for a bit."

"Santana? Did she behave herself?"

Blaine cleared his throat.

"Yeah, sure. It was fine. She said you told her about yesterday."

Kurt blushed and swallowed.

"Sorry. Should I not have?"

"I don't want you to keep my deliciousness a secret. Friends do this all the time, right?"

"Eat cake?"

"Yeah. And kiss when their kids aren't looking. We're buddies. Pals. Bros."

"Ew. So, would you rather be… something else?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe we're too old."

Kurt ate his last bit and sucked the crumbs from his fingertip, looking into his lap. He turned ever so slightly to look shyly up at Blaine.

"I don't think you're too old to be my boyfriend."

Blaine grinned.

"Well, you sure know how to make a guy feel special."

"What?"

"Well, it's been a while. Last time I became somebody's boyfriend it was because she was pregnant."

"Are you saying you'd like it to be more special?"

"Yes," Blaine said after a pause.

"Very well," Kurt said, dusting crumbs off his lap and sliding off the counter. He stood in front of Blaine, between his legs, and took both of his hands. "Blaine Anderson. Would you please do me the honour of being my boyfriend? As long as we maybe don't tell our kids just yet? Or your ex-wife?"

"What about your friends?"

"It's probably too late for them."

"Okay then. Kurt Hummel, I would love to."

Kurt gave a little squeak of joy and leaned forward to kiss him. They got a little closer than they had before, Blaine's legs automatically opening to pull Kurt towards him. His hands stroked up Kurt's chest to rest on his shoulders and he felt Kurt's arms wrap around his waist, his palms flat against the small of his back so their bodies lined up closer together.

Blaine started to feel heat in his stomach, a kind of warmth he'd only felt on occasions where it hadn't been allowed. He'd felt it in this shop before, when he was just a sixteen-year-old kissing another boy, or when he'd let himself think about men while he was with Quinn, or when she'd taken the kids to see her parents and he'd been alone, free to think about what he wanted without giving anything away. But now it was fine. Now he was in the store with the blinds closed and this man, this gorgeous man, his boyfriend, between his thighs, holding him, pulling him close and pushing up to where he was sitting on the counter. Their hips were almost locked, and Blaine realised it wasn't just his thigh nudging against Kurt's hip. He slid himself back and closed his legs, making Kurt gasp.

"Blaine?" He swallowed, "Is something wrong?"

"No, god no, I just, uhm-"

He shifted uncomfortably and Kurt glanced down at the noticeable bulge in Blaine's jeans. He bit back a laugh.

"Wow, already? I knew I was good, but-"

"Sorry."

"What? It's fine."

"Kurt, we've been making out for, like, two seconds."

"Exactly. It means you're definitely not too old for the title of boyfriend. Look, if it makes you feel better," he glanced over his shoulder even though he knew there was nobody else there, and took Blaine's hand. He kissed him again and guided his palm down, and Blaine flinched when he felt it.

"Seriously? From that?"

Kurt nodded.

"I feel so bad. All these years you've been missing out on this. But if I have to get you up to speed, I guess I can deal with it."

He grinned and kissed Blaine again, and suddenly all Blaine could hear was Santana, talking about Kurt's sex life, how many guys there'd been, how waiting for the fourth date was 'prudish', and with coffee, the hospital, dinner, and- did this count as a date? They were alone and they were kissing. It felt like a date. He'd tried to dismiss her, but from the way Kurt was smirking she could have been telling the truth. What if Kurt was really expecting everything right now? Okay, maybe not right here in the bakery, but soon?

God, if one of the kids was going through this he knew exactly what he'd say, that they just had to be comfortable with whatever they were doing, that they should never feel pressured into anything. But he wasn't a kid. He was a thirty-eight-year-old divorced father of two who'd barely established that he had a boyfriend when he realised he was scared to have sex with him.

"Blaine? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Of course." He was shifting back on the counter and his legs closed themselves. "I'm great. Erection and everything."

Kurt laughed.

"Maybe I should stop distracting you. You've got a lot to do. Are you sure you're okay?"

Blaine forced a smile and nodded.

"Yep. Fine."

"You know what? We should go on a date."

"So, this doesn't count?"

"It can if you want it to. But maybe something at night. With better clothes."

"Why do I get the feeling you're not talking about yourclothes?"

"Because my clothes are perfect. Don't get me wrong – this look has its appeal," Blaine's polo was probably tighter than it needed to be, "but dinner, drinks, maybe dancing? I think that deserves at least a dinner jacket."

"You dance?"

"Oh, a little." Kurt decided his flexibility and perfect sense of rhythm could be a nice surprise later on. "How does Friday sound?"

There it was, that glint in his eye, the one that had been there for a second the night before and made Blaine shiver, but one rant about sex from an admittedly intimidating lesbian and it just freaked him out.

"Friday's good. Can we get someone to babysit?"

"I've got a few I.O.U's to cash in. Oh, Blaine, I should've asked, how's Kitty?"

Oh, God. Whatever was happening with him and Kurt, it was happening on top of everything between him and Kitty. Okay, that may have been a poor choice of words, but it was all overwhelming. Blaine had an urge to bake some more.

"She's… at school. I hope. She left early this morning. I didn't see her."

"Did you talk to her?"

"Not really. Not yet. Tonight, hopefully."

Kurt nodded, his hands skimming up Blaine's thighs and settling on his hips. Oddly, this was fine. This couldn't go anywhere. Blaine had always been tactile, and being close to Kurt – holding his hand, hugging him, all those casual pats and kisses – had all felt completely natural, because it was nothing he hadn't done a thousand times before and it was Kurt and it was nice. He already felt so at ease around him, as long as there was no possibility that it would require 'heroic amounts of lube', as Santana had so beautifully put it.

Kurt tilted his head.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," he said a little too quickly, "I mean, it's just the whole Kitty thing. Everything's kind of a mess. Look, I should get back to work."

"Yeah, I probably should too. I'll text you or something about Friday?"

Blaine nodded. Kurt smiled, his nose scrunching a little, and gave Blaine one more lingering peck on the lips before leaving, turning back just for a second to give him a little wave goodbye.

"Bye," Blaine said to the empty room; then, after a pause, "Fuck."

Not only had he just officially gotten his first ever boyfriend, he'd also sort of almost touched his penis. Penises had definitely been involved. His apparently still was.

He looked down at his crotch.

"Really? Do you have to be the one thing here that isn't scared?"

He rolled his eyes. There was still nobody around. He had plenty of time and not much more to do. He slid off the counter and locked the door so no more lesbians could come in and scare him. The kitchen wasn't as warm as it usually was without the ovens running, and there was still a faint smell of baking and the hum of the fans and the buzz of the refrigerator, but the cool air was a welcome relief for his burning skin. He had no idea if his face was on fire because he was embarrassed or because he'd spent too much time thinking about having sex with Kurt, but he needed to take care of himself. He switched the radio off and closed the door and flopped into a chair, tugging his jeans open and grasping his cock (flushed and dark red despite being the least embarrassed thing in the room), and let his eyes slide closed.

The images flashing through his mind were varied to say the least, but they all revolved around Kurt. First things first – he pictured him shirtless. An excellent start. Shirtless Kurt kissing him, putting his hands on Blaine's waist, his hips, sliding past his waistband to squeeze his ass, also proved to work pretty well. It didn't take long for things to progress in his mind to his own hand being replaced by Kurt's, more kissing, Kurt becoming completely naked, just as hard as Blaine because they were still kissing, and he couldn't hold back a groan that was bordering on wanton.

He clapped a hand over his mouth even though there was nobody to hear him. Without realising he was doing it, his hand had trailed down to graze over his nipple through his shirt, pinching gently, and his mind started shaking things up. Before long he'd flicked through a dozen positions, all outlandish and pornographic and complete with sordid noises and heavy panting. He felt his buzz starting to fade; he frowned and had to twist his hand to focus. Kissing. Hands. Eyes. His arms pulling to no avail, tied to his bed while Kurt rode him into the mattress, head thrown back.

Blaine's eyes snapped open.

Dammit, Santana.

He closed his eyes again, biting his lip as his thumb swiped over his slit, catching beads of moisture and smoothing them down. As hard (don't) as he tried to think about sex, proper sex with Kurt, the only image that would work was his face, just Kurt holding him with flushed cheeks and lidded eyes, panting, whispering his name between moans of 'God, yes'. He couldn't quite figure out what was going on to make him look like that, but his own face was contorted into a similar shape as he grabbed a bunch of napkins from the side and came like he never had before. His whole body seized up, practically bent double, and for the first time he didn't feel guilty. He felt loose, a little sleepy, but not like he'd done anything wrong. For a moment he wondered if it was bad to think of Kurt in that way, but judging by his grin today he wouldn't have minded, and when he thought about him now he wasn't any different – still smiling and sweet and making Blaine want to hold hands and sing songs.

He tossed the napkins in the trash and fumbled to get dressed again. He gasped a little, still oversensitive, but dragged himself out of his seat to make himself decent and wander back into the shop. He picked up the drill, this time managing not to get any crude ideas, but before he could line the bracket up with the wall he saw the patch on the wall where the paint was a little more vivid than anywhere else, where the light hadn't been able to tarnish it because of the frame that had been in the way. The picture of his family.

Ever the conformist when it came to hygiene regulations, he gave his hands a thorough scrub before rubbing them over his face, cool and damp, pressing his palm to his forehead. He had to talk to Kitty tonight.

He got home to find a quickly-scrawled note on the fridge: 'Out. Be back late.' He tried to stay awake for her, but he was asleep on the couch when he heard her bedroom door close. Tomorrow. He could talk to her tomorrow.

Dinner on Wednesday wasn't as awkward as it could have been. If anything, he felt more comfortable around Santana now they'd crossed some kind of embarrassment threshold. He even dared to call her 'cupcake' a couple of times, earning a grin. He and Zach returned to an empty house and another note: 'Gone to Mom's. Back at the weekend.' He swallowed and took a deep breath. Fine. He could talk to her then.

"Dad?" a very sleepy Zach asked, "is Kitty going to live with Mom?"

"I'm not sure, honey. Come on, bed-time."

"But, Dad, I'm not," he yawned, "tired…"

"Well, that's too bad, because I'm exhausted," he said with a sad smile. "Go."