Tuesday, 10:43p.m. - Wednesday, 7:06p.m.

Minnesota, Manitoba

After efficiently switching Kurt’s New York plates out for Minnesota ones in the shadowed diner parking lot, Santana begrudgingly agreed to let Kurt follow her to the hotel in his car.  He wasn’t ready to let it go quite yet, even if he only had it for a few more hours.  It was, after all, the last physical thing that truly connected him to his father, and the idea that some stranger who probably wouldn't even take proper care of it would get their hands on it was too much to think about.

“Well,” Kurt mused when they pulled into the long, winding driveway leading to a Marriott hotel, “it looks like Detective Lopez doesn’t have the same financial concerns that we do.”  Blaine smiled at him nervously.  Neither one of them had any idea what to expect, and neither one of them dared surrender to the growing excitement rising up in their chests.  They weren’t safe yet, and they had no idea what was happening.

Still. Since leaving the parking lot at the Silver Bullet, Kurt had never felt as calm and secure as he did following Santana Lopez into the lobby of the Marriott hotel.

“So,” Santana said, once they were in a clean room with a queen-sized bed smelling of fresh linen and lemon cleaning solution, “I imagine you boys might have some questions for me.”  She perched on the edge of the bed, employing the kind of skirt skills that only long years of practice could create, managing to remain completely modest while crossing her legs at the knee in a skin-tight mini skirt.

Kurt sat down across from Blaine at the little table next to the window and nodded.

“I...yes.  Um.  So how did you find us?”

“And why haven’t you arrested us?” interjected Blaine.

“What are you getting out of this anyway?” Kurt demanded, narrowing his eyes.

“What do you want from us?” Blaine asked, biting his lip nervously.

“And what are you going to do with us?” Kurt added.

Santana laughed. “I found you because I’m exceedingly good at what I do and the Pennsylvania State chief of police is a moron, I haven’t arrested you because I know what happens to guys like you in prison and I have a pretty educated guess as to what happened with Smythe at the Silver Bullet, what I’m getting out of this is the ability to live with myself again, since the last time I tried to help someone in a situation like this it didn’t turn out so well, what I want from you is to get out of this alive and intact, and what I am going to do is get you two across the border into Canada.  Anything else?”

“You – you're going to bring us across the border?” Blaine asked incredulously. Santana nodded.

“Why?” demanded Kurt. “I'm sorry, but none of this is quite adding up. Doesn't that somewhat defeat the purpose of your job, detective?”

“Kurt,” Blaine protested softly, touching Kurt's arm. “She's wants to help us. Don't – don't ruin it.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “A little snark from Hummel isn't going to make me turn tail, Karofsky-Ande–”

“Just Anderson,” Blaine interrupted.

Santana glanced between the two of them, her face spreading into a sly grin. “Wanky. And definitely not a surprise. But no, unless you boys would rather turn yourselves in–”

“Not going to happen,” Kurt interjected fiercely

“–then I'm afraid that I'm going to help you no matter how much you piss me off.”

“Why, though?” Kurt insisted, though his voice was considerably softer. “What's in it for you?”

Santana sighed and looked down at her hands. “All right, look. It's like this. I used to be a federal agent, one of the youngest and the best. And I screwed it up.”

Kurt and Blaine watched her silently as she chewed her lip, trying to decide how best to explain herself.

“I–I'm not sorry about what I did. It was a case similar to this one. There was a sexual assault outside a nightclub. The victim fought back, and I guess it looked like he fought a little to well to everyone else. He killed his attacker and swore it was self-defense. I believed him.” Santana shrugged sadly. “No one else did.”

“Wh-what happened to him?” Blaine asked, eyes huge and round. Kurt reached for him, lacing their fingers together across the small table between them.

“He was convicted of first-degree murder,” Santana answered plainly. “The man that assaulted him was a foreign diplomat, so it was a federal case. It just – fuck, what they put that kid through, after what he'd already been through–”

Santana paused, took a shaky breath. “I was the one that tracked him down. If I'd just..it would have been so easy to let him get away. To help him get away. But by the time I was brave enough to even really consider it, he was already in custody. He didn't deserve it and I couldn't stand it, so I–” she threw her hands up helplessly and sighed. “I tampered with the evidence. I was desperate and I tried to help him and it didn't work. They didn't exactly catch me red-handed, but I didn't exactly get away with it either, and I was asked to resign.”

Santana looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap

“It – he got sent to federal prison. He was this sweet, skinny kid, and they sent him to federal prison, and – and I don't want to even think about what happened to him in there. It must have been as bad as I think, though, because he wasn't there two weeks before he hung himself in his cell.”

Kurt gasped, leaping from his seat and rushing to throw his arms around Blaine. There were tears streaming down Blaine's cheeks.

Santana looked up at them, and Kurt could have sworn her eyes were wet too. “So that's what's in it for me, okay? I can't fix what happened to him or what happened to you, but I can do this.”

Blaine pulled Kurt into his lap and wrapped his arms around his waist tightly. Kurt curled into the embrace, burrowing his face into Blaine's neck, because he couldn't hear this and not be touching Blaine. He just couldn't.

“I just wanted to get it right this time. I'm done with this, anyway, I can't do this work anymore. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

Santana swallowed.

“His name was Luke Peterson,” she added softly. “And I just – I couldn't be responsible for any more Luke Petersons. Even if it wasn't my fault, even if I was just doing my job, it doesn't matter. I couldn't live with myself.”

Kurt lifted his head, guilt gnawing at his gut. “It wasn't self-defense,” he confessed quietly.

“Kurt!” Blaine protested, sounding nearly hysterical.

“We were walking away. I found him – he was hurting Blaine, and I found them, and we were walking away, but then he said – h-he said–” Kurt pinched his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears, because he couldn't tell her what Sebastian said. If he spoke the words out loud he would probably vomit.

“Hummel.” Santana's voice was gentle. “I know. I figured.”

Kurt stared at her. “Y-you did?”

“Yeah. I went to high school with Sebastian Smythe, and I know exactly what kind of scum he was. You aren't the first guys he's hurt like that, and I can guarantee you wouldn't have been the last. And I do know what happened to you in Ohio.” Santana gave him a small, rueful smile. “I know what I'm choosing here.”

“Th-thank you,” Kurt whispered. “Oh god, thank you.”

Blaine nodded in agreement. “We'll never be able to repay you for this,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Fancy,” Santana replied as she sat up straight, the vulnerability and softness draining from her voice. “We've still got to get across the border and meet my contact in Winnipeg, get you lovebirds all set up. Everything could still turn into one big shitstorm, so let's save the simpering gratitude until we've actually made it, okay?”

“I...um. Okay,” Blaine agreed, sounding a bit confused.

“Well, I suppose I'll leave you to it, then,” Santana said, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “I'm just across the hall if you need me. Try not to knock any pictures off the wall.”

Blaine knitted his eyebrows, looking even more confused than before.

“Wait, we're actually staying here?” Kurt asked. “Shouldn't – I mean, we really aren't that far from the border, maybe we should just–”

Santana shook her head. “It's nearly midnight, Hummel. Very few people cross the Canadian-American border in the middle of the night for wholesome reasons, and border patrol is pretty well aware of that.”

“Okay,” Blaine agreed, pulling Kurt closer and nuzzling him. “What time should we be ready to go?”

“Meet me downstairs for breakfast at eight,” Santana answered. “And could you wait until I'm gone to start the foreplay, please?”

Blaine laughed against Kurt's neck as Santana strode out the door.

~000~

“This song always made me so sad,” Kurt murmured. He and Blaine were lying on the hotel bed, freshly showered and entirely naked. They were facing each other, each with a hand resting on the other's waist. They hadn't even touched other than that, except for soft, chaste kisses and the nuzzling of noses.

Blaine pulled Kurt closer, sliding his hand to the small of Kurt's back. “Why?” he asked. “I guess I never really listened to the words, but it doesn't seem that sad to me.”

Kurt shrugged the shoulder that wasn't buried in the softness of the mattress. “My dad liked it. He used to play this album when he working in the shop. It used to always make me think about him. But in the last few years...it's made me think about you.”

“Really?” Blaine whispered, stroking the tips of his fingers along Kurt's spine.

“Yeah. 'A little gold ring you wear on your hand makes me understand – there's another before me, you'll never be mine...I'm wasting my time...' Kurt sang along. Blaine stared into his eyes, almost felt himself dissolve into their intensity.

“Kurt...” Blaine murmured. Kurt leaned in to brush their lips together before beginning to sing again.

“Staggering through the daytime
Your image on my mind
Passing so close beside you baby
Sometimes the feelings are so hard to hide, except

In my midnight confessions
When I tell all the world that I love you
In my midnight confessions
When I say all the things that I want to
I love you...”

Kurt smiled. “It doesn't make me sad anymore, though.”

“I never want to make you sad again,” Blaine said earnestly.

“You want to know the best part, though?”

“What's that?”

“When you came to me last night and confessed how you felt, it was just about midnight.”

“Oh.”

“And I – well, I thought about it. When you were telling me, when – when I took your ring off, I thought about how much it would change the song for me. How something so painful could turn into something so beautiful just like that.”

Blaine swallowed. “Kind of like this vacation, huh?”

Kurt grinned. “I cannot believe you are still calling it a vacation,” he said. “But yes.”

Blaine glanced over to the clock radio as a new song began. “It's just about midnight now, you know.”

“How about that,” Kurt murmured.

“I love you,” Blaine said, tracing each of Kurt's eyebrows reverently with his fingertips.

“I love you too,” Kurt returned, sinking his fingers into Blaine's curls and leaning in for a kiss.

They melted  into one another, warm skin against warm skin, limbs tangled and chests pressed so close it almost really felt like they shared the same heart.

“Blaine...” Kurt's voice was whisper-breathy and desperately sexy. Blaine moaned and hitched a leg over Kurt's hip.

“Blaine is this...” Kurt's hand slid down Blaine's back, fingers coming to rest in the dimples of Blaine's lower back.

“I...um...”

“I don't want to do anything you're uncomfortable with,” Kurt murmured against Blaine's lips.

“Yeah, no, it's just...” Blaine reached behind himself, his hand covering Kurt's, guiding his fingers over the generous swell of Blaine’s ass. “Like this, okay?” He guided Kurt's hands over the supple flesh of one cheek, from hip to thigh and back up, not getting too close to the center.

“Yeah,” Kurt breathed. “Yeah, that's nice.”

Blaine pulled his hand away, cupping Kurt's shoulder and looking into his eyes earnestly. “I promise that I'll want...more eventually, Kurt, it's just...”

“I know,” Kurt responded softly when it became clear that Blaine wasn't going to finish his sentence. Kurt rested his palm on Blaine's hip, fingers still tracing the firm and slightly plump flesh of Blaine's bottom. “It's fine, Blaine, really. I love feeling you inside of me.”

Blaine smiled almost shyly at that, fingers trailing down Kurt's back once again.

“And even if you never want that, it's all right. It won't make me enjoy sex with you any less.”

Blaine smiled, but looked a bit apprehensive.

“You do believe me, don't you?” Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded. “Of course. I just...I want to want it right now, you know? I don't want to let him take something from me that always made me feel so good. Maybe if we just–”

“It's been three days, Blaine,” Kurt reminded him gently. “Give yourself time. We have the rest of our lives to get to that if you want to.”

Blaine's smile was watery. “I will want that eventually, with you. I do want you to make love to me like that, Kurt.”

“Then I will. Eventually. But I never want to make you feel uncomfortable. Even if you wanted to stop having sex altogether for awhile, I–”

“No!” Blaine objected sharply. “No, that's the worst idea I've ever heard.”

Kurt buried his face in Blaine's neck and shook with laughter.

“Sex with you, Kurt, it's like nothing I've ever experienced before. And we're only just starting to learn each other.”

“Hmmm,” Kurt agreed with a lazy smile, running his hand softly across the outer edges of Blaine's ass. “I love learning you. You have a really fantastic ass, do you know that?”

Blaine snorted, but he also blushed. “I have a big ass.”

“Well...sort of, yeah, but that's part of what makes it so sexy.”

“Yours is small, but it's really sexy,” Blaine countered. Kurt gave him a devilish smile and rolled them over so that he was resting heavily on top of Blaine, their erections growing as they pressed together.

“I'm glad you think so,” Kurt murmured, arching up into Blaine's touch when he reached down and squeezed, parting Kurt's cheeks gently.

“You still sore from this morning?” Blaine murmured against Kurt's neck between tiny kisses, his thumbs dipping to rub feather-light across Kurt's hole.

Kurt shuddered and made a needy sound. “A little, but not too much,” he answered on a gasp.

“Hmmm. Well, maybe I can make you feel better,” Blaine murmured, kissing Kurt firmly and wriggling out from beneath Kurt's body.

“Hey,” Kurt whined, “where are you going?”

“You'll see,” Blaine replied mischievously. He straddled Kurt's thighs and began kissing his way down Kurt's body, from the nape of his neck to the top of his spine, across shoulder blades and biceps and then back down to the curve of his waist, up the gentle slope that led to Kurt's tight round little ass. Blaine pulled back slightly and gave it a small poke just to watch how fast it bounced back.

Before Kurt could act indignant about this, though, Blaine nudged Kurt's thighs apart and spread his cheeks wide, hot breath ghosting over Kurt's twitching hole.

“Is this all right?” Blaine asked, lips too close to possibly misinterpret what was he was asking for.

“Oh god yes,” Kurt groaned, digging his knees into the mattress and pushing his ass up closer to Blaine's face.

Blaine chuckled softly as he lowered his head, burying his face in the dense, earthy smell and taste of Kurt there, the deep heat radiating from inside Kurt's body and blooming across Blaine's tongue.

Blaine licked him gently, so gently it was almost heartbreaking, so intimate it almost made them both cry. He stroked over Kurt's balls and perineum with his thumbs, savoring Kurt's wanton mewls as he rocked between the friction of the mattress and the taut heat of Blaine's tongue.

“Blaine,” Kurt gasped, “Blaine, please, please, please, Blaine...”

Blaine breached Kurt with the tip of his tongue and Kurt threw his head back and cried out, hands twisting in the sheets beneath him.

“Blaine, I'm going to – I'm going to come just from this if you don't – oh, fuck, Blaine!”

Blaine groaned at Kurt's words, the vibrations making Kurt jerk and writhe.

Because licking Kurt's tiny pink asshole until he came was pretty much the hottest thing Blaine could possibly think of.

“Blaine, I want you,” Kurt begged. “Please, Blaine.”

And as hot as this was, Blaine was only one man and he was only so strong, and he wasn't sure there was a human alive that could withstand Kurt's gorgeous pleas. Blaine gave Kurt's entrance one last hard lick before releasing him and moving to climb off the bed.

“Okay, just...hold on a second, okay?” Blaine asked, voice rough and panting with his own arousal. He found the condoms and lube in his messenger bag with ease, and turned back to Kurt and almost came on the spot. Because Kurt was writhing, rutting against the mattress and emitting soft little moans while he gazed up at Blaine through lust-drunk, heavy-lidded eyes.

“God, Kurt,” Blaine breathed out, racing to get back to him.

“Blaine,” Kurt whimpered as Blaine climbed back on the bed and knelt behind him.

“Love you,” Blaine murmured, running his hands slowly down the length of Kurt's lean, sinuous back. “You're so beautiful and so good to me, Kurt.”

“Love you too,” Kurt gasped. “Loved you for so long...”

Blaine pressed a tender kiss to Kurt's spit-slick hole before replacing his lips with warmed, lubed fingers. He worked Kurt open slowly but surely, not wanting to tease him too much but loving the words “Blaine” and “please” coming out of Kurt over and over again, in every combination, his voice rough and wrecked.

Blaine gently urged a pillow under Kurt's hips and guided his body slightly so that Kurt was crouched on the mattress, ass in the air and hands gripping the base of the headboard. Blaine trailed tiny kisses down Kurt's spine before positioning himself behind him, holding him open and pressing into his hot, tight, perfect body as Kurt moaned loudly and struggled not to squirm.

“I want to be with you forever,” Blaine confessed as he covered Kurt's body with his own, sliding his hands under Kurt's waist to hold him tight while he began rolling his hips in a slow, hard rhythm. “Only you, always you.”

“F-forever,” Kurt managed through harsh pants, spreading his legs wider and moaning deep when Blaine nipped at his shoulder to punctuate a particularly well-placed thrust.

Blaine pressed his forehead into the junction of Kurt's neck and shoulder, arching his back and bracing his hands beneath Kurt's waist on the bed as he began to plunge harder and deeper into Kurt's body.

Kurt gripped the headboard so hard his knuckles went white, burying his face into his own bicep to muffle his wails as Blaine slammed into his prostate and made him see stars.

Blaine fucked him perfectly, harder and faster the closer they got to release, but always with an undercurrent of tenderness. Always focused on Kurt's pleasure.

“Kurt,” Blaine gasped out, “do you need – I don't know if I can hold myself up and–”

“No,” Kurt panted, “I'm close. I don't need – I'm going to come.”

“Yeah,” Blaine responded, the word coming out low and rough and sexy and almost like a growl. Kurt felt his own hips spasming out of control at the sheer desire he heard in Blaine's voice. Desire for him.

Kurt clamped his eyes shut and threw his head back and came hard into the pillow with a nearly silent, breathy scream.

“Oh, fuck, that is the hottest thing I've ever heard,” Blaine groaned, thrusting into Kurt faster and faster as Kurt came, groaning low and loud as Kurt's muscles clenched around him.

“Kurt,” Blaine moaned into the shell of Kurt's ear, and fuck, even his ear was sweating, and how the hell was that so sexy? Blaine moaned his name again and again as he thrust as deep as possible, coming hard and gasping into Kurt's damp hair.

“Oh my god,” Blaine groaned as he collapsed on top of Kurt.

Kurt gave a small grunt. “You're heavy,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow.

Blaine laughed softly and rolled off of Kurt, tying off the condom and tossing it into the thankfully well-placed wastebasket next to the bed. Since he had already started moving (sort of), and because Kurt looked like he was on the brink of actually being classified as a liquid, Blaine decided to be a gentleman and tend to the clean-up. He fought valiantly against heavy limbs and heavier eyelids, stumbling into the bathroom and half-blindly groping for a washcloth, waiting for the water to run hot before he soaked the cloth. He flicked on the bedside lamp nearest his side of the bed – he was assuming Kurt wasn't going to move far enough to switch sides at this point – and turned off the overhead light before climbing back into bed with Kurt.

“Ku-urt,” Blaine sang softly, nudging at his waist. Kurt groaned.

“Can't move. Too well-fucked.”

Blaine smirked. “I'll take that as a compliment. But do you really want to sleep in a patch of your own dried come all night?”

Kurt made an exasperated noise like Blaine was demanding something wholly unreasonable of him, and slowly rolled onto his back. Blaine wiped Kurt down carefully and thoroughly, throwing the come-soaked pillow to the floor (the hotel had provided like six pillows anyway, so whatever), and then pulling the covers up over him.

“Mmmm,” Kurt murmured happily as Blaine climbed under the covers as well and settled in next to him, pulling him close. “I am so happy we're not hiking into Canada after all, because now I really am sore.”

“If we get there,” Blaine began softly, the if settling over them like lead, “I want to go on the straight and narrow, Kurt.  Well, so to speak.”

Kurt opened his eyes halfway and gave Blaine a small smile from where his head lay cradled on Blaine’s bicep.  “I’ll never even go a mile over the speed limit,” Kurt promised.

“We’ll get all of our pets licensed, even the indoor cats.”

“Even our tank of exotic saltwater fish.”

Blaine frowned.  “That sounds like an awful lot of work,” he mused, pressing a soft kiss to Kurt’s forehead.  “Don’t expect me to help you change the water in the tank every month.”

“Mmmm,” Kurt responded with a smile, his eyes sliding closed once again.  “It’ll be our pool boy’s job.”

“We’ll have a pool boy?” Blaine asked with a broad grin.  “In Canada?”

“Of course we will, Blaine, we’ll be extremely wealthy.”

Blaine chuckled softly.  “That sounds fabulous.  But you and a roof over my head are all I need to be happy.”

Kurt sighed happily, wrapping his arm more tightly around Blaine’s waist.

“Blaine?” Kurt ventured after a long silence.  

“Mmmm?” Blaine returned.

“Will you...if we get to Canada, will you promise to talk to someone? About...?”

“Yeah,” Blaine answered, very quietly.  “I will, but - you too?”

Kurt sucked in a breath.  “It was a long time ago, Blaine,” he nearly whispered.  Blaine looked down at Kurt’s face, his eyes clenched shut.  He ran a ghost-soft thumb over the apple of Kurt’s cheek, and Kurt exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“I know,” Blaine conceded softly, “but I think - I think we need to, Kurt.  Both of us.”

“Okay,” Kurt finally agreed, his voice quiet but confident.  “Okay, we both will.  If - if we make it to Canada.”  Kurt swallowed thickly, and Blaine wrapped his arms more tightly around him.

“How do you think she’s planning to get us across?”

“I shudder to think,” Kurt said with a sigh.

Blaine smiled thoughtfully, stroking a hand up and down Kurt's arm. “Are you scared?” he asked.

“Terrified,” Kurt admitted, looking at Blaine. “But I feel – I don't know. As...um...crusty as Santana may be, I really do feel safe with her.”

“Me too,” Blaine murmured. “I don't even know her, but I don't think she would do anything to hurt us.”

~000~

“Get in.”

“What?” Kurt shrieked, staring into the trunk of Santana's rental car in horror.

“Get. In.”

“I...uh...this is kind of stretching the boundaries of the trust we've established,” Blaine said nervously.

They had pulled off the road about twenty miles from the border, and apparently this was Santana's idea of a foolproof plan to get them into Canada.

“What else did you think we were going to do?” Santana demanded impatiently.

“You said you had documentation for us,” Blaine answered. “I thought–”

“I have documentation for you in Winnipeg. Winnipeg. As in Manitoba. As in across the fucking border. Were you guys listening to me at all last night?”

“Of course we were,” Kurt snapped. “There was just a lot to take in, okay? But if I'd known this was your brilliant master plan–”

Santana sighed. “You do realize your pictures are probably up at every border stop from here to Vancouver, don't you? That bogus satellite read may have them looking for you in Michigan, but I guarantee you that they've got their bases covered. This is the only shot we've got. Trust me. I never get searched. I'm too adorable. Now get the fuck in the trunk.”

Blaine and Kurt exchanged nervous glances.

“I don't think we have much choice,” Blaine said with a shrug, climbing in and curling up onto his side. Kurt sighed heavily and followed suit, settling in front of Blaine and failing to fight a grin when Blaine spooned up against him from behind.

“Well, I guess this is karma for what we did to that police officer in Wisconsin,” Kurt mused.

“Nah,” Santana said, smiling down at them before slamming the trunk shut. “Karma would involve air holes.”

~000~

And they did.

Of course they did. Santana pulled up to the border with a bright, easy smile and a round of flirty banter, and the customs officer handed back her passport with a wink and let her slide on through like silk.

She waited until she was almost an hour past the border to let the boys out of the trunk, mostly to be cautious but partly for her own amusement.

When she opened the trunk, both their eyes were clamped shut and their bodies were rigid with fear.

“Hey, Wonder Twins,” she called down to them. “You can stop shitting bricks already. We're here.”

Blaine was the first to crack open an eye. “We're here?” he breathed, as if saying the words too loudly would shatter their meaning completely.

“Yup. Well, we're still a few hours from Winnipeg, but we are officially not in a country where either of you are wanted for murder or armed robbery. Or assaulting a police officer. Or willful destruction of property. You boys want to do me a favor and keep it that way? Because I am not interested in sneaking your perky asses into Greenland.”

Kurt sat up and rubbed his eyes. “We're in Canada,” he said simply, his voice dazed and full of wonder. “Blaine, we're in Canada.”

“We're in Canada,” Blaine repeated, just as stunned.

“And they say the American educational system is a joke,” Santana muttered. “You want to sit there all day telling each other where you are, or do you want to join me in the car like civilized human beings?”

“We're in Canada,” Kurt said again, and started to cry. Blaine wrapped his arms around him and they both sobbed, their bodies shaking the entire car with the force of it.

And Santana absolutely, positively did not start crying too.

She just had something in her fucking eye, that was all.

~000~

Blaine grinned. “Call me Harry.”

~000~

Kurt and Blaine stared at the closed door behind her for a long, long time. When Blaine finally turned to Kurt, it was with a steadily widening smile. It wasn't a simple smile; there was fear behind it, and uncertainty and shock and even a measure of pain. But more than that, there was excitement. There was awe. And Blaine's mounting joy was downright palpable.

“So,” he said, as Kurt bit his lip against his own ridiculous grin, “What do you want to do tomorrow?”