Chapter 8

Amidst the feel of tongue and lips and … perfection, Blaine can't help but hear Wes' voice in his head. Separate yourself. Slippery slope. Hormones. You need to get laid.

"Oh god," Blaine says, shoving Kurt away. "What am I doing? This can't be happening. I can't do this."

He looks at Kurt, tears beginning to fall. Kurt's face contorts in pain as soon as Blaine pulls away, and he looks so confused and small in that moment. Blaine can't help himself. He reaches for Kurt, almost on instinct and pulls him into a tight hug, not even bothering to think about what it would look like if someone walked in.

"I'm sorry, Kurt…so so so sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Please don't," Kurt pleads, his voice muffled in the fabric of Blaine's shirt. "Don't apologize. It makes it sound like a mistake. Something to be ashamed of."

"It was a mistake," Blaine says with a heavy voice.

"Don't say that," Kurt says, squeezing Blaine tighter. "Like it didn't mean anything. You know it did. You said you felt it too."

"That doesn't make it right, Kurt."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't make it wrong, either," he says. "Not entirely."

"How are you so wise?" Blaine asks, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Just one of my many charms," Kurt teases.

"See?" Blaine says. "Like that. You just say these things and I…"

"You what?" Kurt asks, tilting his head up to look at Blaine.

"I lose my mind, Kurt. We shouldn't be doing this." He leans his head on Kurt and inhales the smell of his damp hair. The scent of cherry still lingers, but he can also detect a hint of the spicy smell he remembers from Saturday.

"What are we doing?" Kurt asks. It's clear he means "what are we and where is this going," but he may as well have asked Blaine the answer to life itself.

"I don't know," Blaine says. He leans back and grips Kurt by the shoulders. "The only thing I do know is I've wanted to kiss you for weeks. And now that I've done it, I don't want to stop."

"I don't want to stop either."

Kurt leans forward and presses his lips to Blaine's, tentatively. It's that uncertainty that gives Blaine the courage to speak.

"Kurt, we have to."

"Why?" Kurt asks, eyes pleading with Blaine. Pleading for Blaine to … love him. Take care of him. Be with him.

"You know why," Blaine says, his voice thick with emotion.

"So we'll be discreet," Kurt says, sounding his age again. "You can't tell me you could just walk away from this. You can't."

"I can try."

"You'll fail."

"Do you really have so little faith in me?" Blaine asks, trying to sound lighthearted, but knowing it falls short.

"No, I just know what this feels like, and I know I couldn't stay away now if I tried. Besides, you tried already; you said so. And look where that's gotten us."

"Making out in the bathroom?"

"Making out in the bathroom." Kurt leans in and places a soft kiss on the corner of Blaine's mouth. His eyes flutter closed.

"Kurt, this is never going to work," Blaine says, breaking away from Kurt's lips, but keeping his eyes closed and his mouth a hair's breadth from Kurt's. His voice is a gentle, deep whisper. "And I could lose my job."

"I won't let that happen," Kurt says. "Promise. Just…give me a chance? Please, Blaine."

Blaine's eyes fly open. It's the first time Kurt has called him anything but Mr. Anderson. And the sound of his given name on Kurt's lips rings in his ears like music. Blaine takes Kurt's cheek in his palm and surges forward to kiss him again. This time Kurt pushes back and when Blaine's mouth falls open, he lets his tongue brush against Blaine's.

Blaine has a fleeting thought about stopping, but realizes quickly there's no turning back. Kurt's right. He can't fight this anymore. And he no longer wants to.

Kurt is flying high for days after Mr. Anderson — Blaine — kissed him. He feels himself breaking into a ridiculously large grin at random moments, and it hasn't gone unnoticed by his friends, especially Mercedes.

"Is there a sale on scarves or something? You look positively giddy," Mercedes remarks to Kurt on their way to third period.

"What?" Kurt asks distractedly. "Uh, no. I'm just…happy, I guess."

"Well, I wish you'd share whatever Kool-Aid you're drinking because I can find nothing to smile about in this place." She scowls at a couple making out to her left and steps over a discarded soda can. "I mean, look around us, Kurt. It's not exactly Utopia."

"Oh lighten up, Mercedes. It's Friday, and we don't have school Monday. It's a good day."

"OK, that's it. After class we are headed straight to the nurse's office because you must be running a fever," she says, placing the back of her hand against Kurt's cheek. He pulls away from her touch and smiles fondly at her.

"Can't I just be in a good mood for once?" Kurt asks. But the truth is, he can't imagine ever being in a bad mood again. After their moment in the bathroom, Kurt and Blaine had spent all of sixth period talking about their situation and how they could make it work. Blaine insisted it wouldn't work; Kurt insisted it would. In the end, Blaine agreed to meet up with Kurt over the long weekend so they could talk about it uninterrupted.

"I'm happy you're in a good mood, Kurt, but I still say something's up with you."

Kurt smiles at Mercedes and bumps her shoulder. "I think my cynicism has started rubbing off on you."

Thanks to an early cold front, Blaine's hands are shaking from the cold as he enters his apartment Friday afternoon. And maybe also a little from nerves. Kurt is coming over to talk about their "situation," and he's worried about being alone with him. Their discussion in the bathroom after their kiss had largely been Kurt trying to convince Blaine that a relationship between them, while problematic, wasn't entirely wrong because "clearly their connection transcends social norms."

Blaine isn't convinced. Although he's certain he has feelings for Kurt, he's not sure he wants to act on those feelings any further. In fact, he knows he can't. But whenever he and Kurt are together, he finds himself wanting things he knows he shouldn't. And he wants so much. Even the little things like holding Kurt's hand, or stroking his hair.

He's had to watch himself all week not to reach out during glee practice and rub Kurt's shoulders when he looked tense or fix a stray hair while he's taking a quiz. On Wednesday, he caught himself staring at the long line of Kurt's legs crossed under his desk. And on Thursday during Kurt's vocal lesson, Blaine had intentionally leaned over Kurt to reach for a sheet of music just to take in the boy's scent.

But Blaine refuses to act on his feelings. Again.

Yet he finds himself rushing about his tiny apartment fluffing pillows, tossing out junk mail, and straightening stacks of magazines. All the while, wondering why he's doing it.

"It's not a date," he says to himself for the third time since he got home.

He's debating whether he should light a candle to freshen the air and get out some of the stuffiness of the old building that never quite seems to dissipate. Ultimately, he decides against it because again, "It's not a date."

Wes had called Blaine several times since Saturday to check up on him. But Blaine had kept the conversation to lighter topics as much as possible and kept assuring Wes that he had no intentions of pursuing a relationship with Kurt.

Then why does this feel like a date?

A sharp knock at the door jolts him from his internal self-flagellation. Blaine opens it to find a shivering Kurt, looking absolutely perfect in a thick scarf and well-fitted coat.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," Kurt replies, unable to keep a smile from his face. Blaine takes in Kurt's flushed face, his cheeks bright pink from the cold, and he wonders briefly if his face reddens like that when he... Stop it, Blaine.

"Are you going to invite me in, or did you want to say hello again?" Kurt teases.

"Oh…right," Blaine says with a nervous laugh. "Please, come in." He gestures toward his small living room. Kurt walks past him and starts to unwind his thick, oatmeal-colored scarf from his neck. He unbuttons his coat and circles around to take in his surroundings.

"It's nice," he says, stripping off his coat.

Blaine reaches forward to take it from him, hanging it on a hook by the door.

"It's alright," he says, running a hand through the back of his hair and shifting his gaze to the floor. The carpet suddenly looks shabby beneath Kurt's perfectly shined shoes, and Blaine wonders why he didn't think to vacuum earlier. When he looks up, Kurt has his back to Blaine, perusing some old photographs on the bookshelves.

"Is this you?" he asks, pointing to a grainy photo of a small, curly-haired boy riding a bike while a gangly, but unfairly attractive teenager cheers him on.

"Yep," Blaine says, walking closer to Kurt. He shoves his hands into his pockets to keep from touching him, but he stands closer than is entirely appropriate. Just to see which photo he's looking at, mind you. "That's my older brother, Cooper. He was teaching me how to ride a bike." Blaine smiles at the happy memory.

"How old were you?" Kurt asks, turning to face Blaine. The proximity of their bodies is undeniable now.

"About eight, I think."

"Oh," Kurt says, looking almost sad for a moment before turning back to the framed pictures. "Oh my god, the blazers."

Blaine lets out a half breath/half laugh at that. "Yeah, that's private school for you. Lots of pretention, horrible wardrobe."

"I'll say," Kurt says. "You kind of pulled it off, though."

"You think?"

"Yeah," Kurt says, turning back to face Blaine. He glances down, smiling a little. "I might have looked you up on YouTube."

"You didn't," Blaine says with a self-deprecating laugh. "Those videos are so embarrassing. I keep telling Wes to take them down."

"You guys were good," Kurt says with a shrug.

They're both silent for a moment until Kurt giggles softly. "Although, you should probably have him take down the one from the Gap."

Blaine groans and drops his head in his hand. He looks up at Kurt and smiles. "Do you think I could plead young and stupid?"

Kurt gives him a playful eye roll and turns back to the shelves. He runs his fingers along the spines of a few books. Blaine can't help but watch the elegant way he holds his hands. It accentuates both the length of his fingers and the strength of them. Kurt is about a third of the way through one shelf when he pauses at a set of four well-worn paperbacks with a slight harlequin pattern and faded gold lettering on their spines. There are three much thicker accompanying hardbacks next to them. They are slightly different in color and design, but just as worn looking as the rest of the set.

"How many times have you read these?" he asks.

"I lost count," Blaine replies. It's true. Despite many of his fellow English majors teasing him relentlessly, he still managed to write five different papers about various themes in the Harry Potter series. "I try to reread the entire series at least once a year, but periodically I'll just pick one up and read it in one sitting…especially Prisoner of Azkaban."

Kurt looks at him questioningly.

"I have a thing for time travel," Blaine says, shrugging. "If you scrutinize my DVD collection you'll find the 'Back to the Future' trilogy tucked in next to 'Doctor Who' and 'Hot Tub Time Machine.' I might even own both 'Bill & Ted' movies. Kind of a weakness of mine."

"I won't tell."

Neither of them speaks right away, the double meaning of Kurt's statement hanging boldly between them. They're both still facing the bookcase. Kurt is tapping random books, tilting his head to the side to read titles. Blaine feels like he might burn a hole in "The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll" if he stares at it much longer, but he can't figure out what to say. The weight of everything — kissing, wanting, waiting — is almost too much. Where would he begin?

And while he's busy searching for the right words, Kurt finds them first.

"I missed you," he says. It's a simple declaration; there's no unnecessary drama in his tone, and he doesn't turn around.

"Kurt…" He can't get out anything else. The single syllable almost chokes him with the weight of it. How can he lie to someone as brave as Kurt is being? And Blaine feels like such a coward. Both for leading Kurt on and for not wanting to take a chance. Blaine reaches out and places a hand on Kurt's right shoulder. He hopes the simple action says what he can't.

"You don't need to say anything," Kurt says. His voice is soft and low. Blaine shivers with the intimacy of it. "I know you feel it too. Even if you won't say it."

"It's not that, Kurt." Blaine pauses and drops his hand from Kurt's shoulder. He looks at his hands and picks at a callous on his thumb to keep them occupied. "No matter what I could think of to say, it would feel like a lie."

Kurt turns to face Blaine. He looks confused and hurt as Blaine looks up to make eye contact.

"I'm not very good at romance," Blaine says. "And even if I were, this situation is all kinds of fucked up."

"But you like me," Kurt says. "You want to be with me."

"I do like you, Kurt," Blaine replies. "But I'm not sure I can do anything about that. I told you that on Tuesday."

"And I told you," Kurt says, running the back of his hand across Blaine's cheek. "I don't care."

"I know you don't," Blaine says, leaning into Kurt's touch before reaching up to remove the hand from his face. "But I do."

"Blaine, I…"

"You're my student, Kurt. That's all you can be to me until you graduate. Anything else is too dangerous for us both."

Blaine can't help himself from watching Kurt's lips. They're still a little red from being out in the cold, and Kurt's full bottom lip is sticking out slightly, just begging to be kissed. Blaine doesn't even realize he's licking his own lips as he stares.

"I know you're trying to do the right thing, Blaine," Kurt says. "But I know that's not what you want." His eyes darken as he notices Blaine staring at his lips. Kurt leans in slowly, giving Blaine time to back away. But nothing, short of physical force pulling him away from Kurt, could stop Blaine from kissing those lips again.

When Blaine doesn't back away, Kurt closes his eyes and eliminates some of the distance between them. He stops just shy of Blaine's mouth, lips parted in anticipation. Blaine can feel Kurt's breath, rapid and warm on his face and he takes in a sharp breath. He feels Kurt's hand grasp his elbow, anchoring him to the spot and preventing him from pulling away.

Blaine closes his eyes trying to block it all out and resist the temptation of closing the remaining distance. But in the absence of his sense of sight, Kurt's scent wafts over him and draws him in. He unintentionally leans into it and feels Kurt's bottom lip brush his top one. And that's it. He feels the last of his willpower leave his body as he frantically grips the back of Kurt's head and pulls him in to a fierce kiss.

His tongue tingles with the sensation of Kurt's on his. The feeling grows more intoxicating with every slip and caress of wet warmth shared between them. Even so, Blaine's mind is screaming at him to stop…pull away…you can't do this. But his body is begging for more, and he can't will it to do anything but kiss Kurt …and kiss…and kiss. A broken moan escapes the back of his throat. The sound sends Kurt surging forward to grip Blaine's sweater in his fists and pull him closer.

Blaine realizes he hasn't made out like this in years — hands everywhere, heat and intensity and pleasure, kissing with abandon, and learning how to pull pleasant sounds from the other person with subtle touches and gentle nips of teeth. The feeling overwhelms him in the best way, all thoughts of "Kurt is a student" dismissed before they can even form.

Needing more contact, Blaine grips Kurt's hair, and pulls to expose his neck. He mouths a line from the hollow of Kurt's neck all the way to his ear, nibbling at the lobe. Kurt's gasp makes Blaine smile against the warm skin of his neck. He wants to memorize every dip, curve and smooth plane of Kurt's body. Study it like a work of art. Write odes to every inch of him and compose songs about the wonder that is Kurt Hummel.

Every thought in Blaine's head is Kurt, Kurt, Kurt until his text alert sounds from his pocket, jolting him out of the moment. He grabs it with the intent of turning it off, but he sees a message from Wes blinking back at him.

Wes (5:02 p.m.)
Lunch tomorrow in Westerville?

Wes, as usual, is Blaine's reality check. He looks back to Kurt, panting heavily and trying to fix his hair. What is he doing?

"Kurt…I think we should…"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go," he says, smoothing a hand over his shirt and avoiding eye contact.

"I shouldn't have…"

"Please don't finish that sentence," Kurt pleads, holding up a hand. "I can't take it if you try to take it all back again. Not now. I can understand wanting to be discreet, take it slow…but you can't deny what's between us. Not anymore."

Blaine knows it's true. He knows it in his bones. But he can't agree, not if he wants to keep any sense of propriety.

"So I'm going to go," Kurt continues, writing something on a notepad on the coffee table as Blaine gapes at him. "And you're going to call me later when you've realized that I'm right."

Kurt grabs his coat from the hook near the door and picks up his discarded scarf. He strolls over to Blaine, who hasn't moved yet, and kisses him on the cheek. It's the barest brush of lips and it's almost comical after the kisses they'd shared just moments earlier, but it sends Blaine's stomach fluttering wildly. He grips his phone tighter as he watches Kurt wrap his thick scarf around his neck and stride through the front door.

Blaine collapses on the sofa and lets his head fall to the cushion behind his head.

Wes sits in an unassuming café on the outskirts of Westerville, waiting for Blaine to show up. He taps his foot while he checks his to-do list for the upcoming week on his phone. The long weekend gave him the perfect excuse to come home, knowing full well that Blaine would agree to meet him if he knew his best friend was less than two hours away, instead of the usual 8.

The truth is, Wes is growing increasingly worried about Blaine. Actually, worried doesn't begin to cover it. The idea of Blaine having a romantic relationship with someone so young is troubling enough. But that it's one of his students? That makes his stomach twist with crippling anxiety on Blaine's behalf. All the years of prep school and country club gossip have him cringing at the possibility of whispered comments and sideways glances in those circles if he gets caught. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

The door to the café opens, and a tall, blonde woman walks in tugging along two small children. There's so much chaos in the wake of two babbling toddlers, Wes almost misses the familiar head of gelled hair just barely visible behind the trio.

"Hey," Blaine calls out with a wave.

Wes stands to greet his friend with a firm, one-armed hug. He pats him on the back with his free hand, and he can't help but return Blaine's warm smile. There was a reason he became the front man for the Warblers. And it wasn't all thanks to his singing.

"You're looking as dapper as always, Warbler Blaine," he says fondly. "Like you could charm the pants of my grandmother."

Blaine laughs, smoothing down the front of his cardigan. "What about you, Dockers and boat shoes? Heading off on your yacht later?"

"Fair enough," Wes replies, with a faux gesture of surrender. "How have you been?" he asks in a more serious tone.

Blaine takes the seat opposite as Wes sits back down.

"Great," Blaine replies. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, but Wes decides to let that go for the moment. When Blaine picks up his menu, he feigns a level of interest that would look like a stretch for a starving person.

"So, I hear they have really great meatball subs here," Wes says, hoping to cut through some of the uneasiness between them.

"Sounds great," Blaine says, setting his menu back down and grinning awkwardly at Wes again.

Wes knows there's something Blaine's not telling him about the situation with Kurt. Ever since that one drunken phone call, the subject's been basically off-limits. Blaine has always avoided difficult conversations with Wes whenever he doesn't want to hear the truth. He's been avoiding Wes' calls for days. And the evidence is all over his face in that cheesy, over-the-top grin. He's trying too hard to look normal. Wes changes tactics.

"Tell me about Lima. Still the hotbed of activity it ever was?"

"You know it. An underwhelming mall and a slew of bad chain restaurants. The usual."

"And underage hotties," Wes deadpans, not looking up from his menu.

"Wes…"

"Blaine, don't tell me there's nothing going on," he says. "It's written all over your oblivious face. Spill."

Blaine gives an exasperated sigh and rubs his hands on his thighs before crossing his arms in front of himself.

"Wes, it's complicated."

"I realize that," Wes says. "That's why we need to talk about it."

Blaine drops his head the way he always does when emotion overwhelms him. His voice is so low Wes actually has to ask him to repeat himself.

"I'm falling for him," Blaine mumbles.

"You're falling fo — Blaine!"

He's got to be kidding. Wes can't imagine a scenario in which Blaine would think it would be okay to even consider having a relationship with a student. And now he's falling for him?

"I know," Blaine groans. "God…I know." Blaine runs his hands through his perfectly styled hair, loosening the gel a little and leaving a clumpy mess behind. "I keep trying to stay away, keep it professional, you know? And every time I'm with him, it's like I'm losing my mind. I don't know what to do. I can't help myself."

"Blaine, you have to help yourself. You can't keep leading this kid on."

"He's not a kid!" Blaine nearly shouts. A lady at the table next to them turns to give Blaine an admonishing look. "Sorry," he says to her and turns back to Wes, his expression dead serious. "I kissed him," he whispers. "Twice."

"Jesus, Blaine." Wes leans back in his chair and tries to let that sink in.

Just then the waitress approaches, momentarily killing the conversation while they order. Blaine puts on his best polite smile and woos their waitress without even trying. Some things never change, Wes thinks. He smiles up at her and orders his lunch. Before she's even four feet away, Blaine picks up the conversation where they left off. His voice is soft, and he sounds pained.

"I'm not leading him on, Wes. At least I'm trying not to. I keep telling him we can't do anything about our attraction. But I keep giving in." He looks down at his hands, resting on the table. "What is wrong with me?"

Wes looks across at his friend, who's turned to look out the window. There are tears welling up in his hazel eyes. It's pretty clear Blaine is fighting this with every ounce of his being and losing. Wes can't help but notice how small and young Blaine looks in that moment. Almost like a teenager himself.

"Wow, you haven't been this upset since that Gap manager," he teases, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Blaine just inhales deeply and closes his eyes.

"Wes, I just need someone to talk to. Can we just talk about this without you judging me or making jokes?"

Wes sighs heavily and nods. "Sure," he says, reaching across the table and patting Blaine's hand. "Sorry… I'm listening."

By the time Blaine is done unloading, Wes knows the entire situation with Kurt is more complicated than a simple attraction. He's still certain that Blaine needs to completely step away, and he told him as much, but he now understands why it's proving difficult for his exceedingly noble best friend to do the right thing. He's in love. He hasn't said it, but Wes knows it's true.

Wes can only hope that Kurt graduates before Blaine's resolve disappears completely.

"I can't believe Mr. Anderson gave Kurt another solo," Rachel says, sinking down onto the piano bench next to Finn. "I can sing anything he can and with a much bigger emotional punch."

"Yeah, but Kurt really killed it at sectionals," Finn says. "I think it's kinda cool and stuff the way Mr. A gives everyone a chance."

"You're supposed to be on my side, Finn Hudson. I'm your girlfriend!"

"And Kurt's my brother."

"Step-brother," Rachel corrects.

"Yeah, but still."

"How am I going to become a Broadway star if I can't practice my craft, Finn? I need to perform like most people need air. There's no way I'm going to be prepared for NYADA in the fall if I don't get another major solo this year."

Sue backs away from the choir room door smiling deviously to herself. She misses the rest of the conversation because she's already developing a plan.

"Well, someone just got her Christmas present a little early this year," she says under her breath.

She watches as Finn lumbers down the hallway, leaving Rachel alone in the choir room. She's singing some god awful Broadway number, and Sue really wants it to stop.

"Easy there, Barbra. You'll break the sound barrier wailing like that," she says as she enters the room.

Rachel looks up startled.

"What do you want?" she says.

"Well, I couldn't help but overhear you talking to Gigantor about not getting your fair shake at solos, and I thought maybe I could help."

"Why would you want to help me?" Rachel asks in a small voice.

"Because, despite your obvious lack of fashion sense and your inability to pick a decent song to save your pathetic excuse for a life, I like you. I see a little of a young Sue Sylvester in you; a certain flair for the dramatic and a drive to get what you want." She smiles at Rachel as sweetly as she can. "That inspires me."

Rachel's eyes widen as Sue continues. This is going to take some finesse.

"I'm sure you know Porcelain is getting private vocal lessons from Professor Triangle Eyebrows," Sue says.

Rachel nods.

"So, go to the mattresses," Sue says. "Play dirty…. Spy on them. Get an edge any way you can."

"I don't know if I can do that," Rachel says. "Kurt's my friend."

"Oh for crying out loud, Berry! Do you want a solo or not?"

Rachel looks unsure for a second and, much to Sue's delight, positively terrified. She slowly nods.

"That's what I thought," she says smugly. "Tell you what. You start snooping around during their practice sessions and report back to me. I'll help you figure out how to use that information to get what you want."

"Ms. Sylvester, I'm not sure if that's…"

"Go big or go home, Holly Hobby!"

"I…But…" Rachel stutters.

"I think we're done here."

Sue storms down the hallway triumphantly. Finding Becky in her office as per usual, she begins devising a plan.

"Becky, bring me Gloria Estefan's illegitimate love child, stat."

Becky looks at her confused.

"Santana…I need Santana."