Chapter 23:

"Not that I'm complaining, or anything," Burt began, studying Kurt with curious eyes. "But what are you so happy about?"

Kurt smiled up at his dad. "No reason."

Burt did not look convinced, as he wiped his hands on his thighs. "You've got a bruised everything and you're sitting there smiling like you found a million dollars lying outside on the doorstep. What gives?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, still smiling. "Dad," he said. "If I found a million dollars outside on the doorstep I would hand it over to the police."

When Kurt was growing up, he had never really had any friends. At school, there were a couple of kids he talked to sometimes, but outside school, there wasn't anyone he could hang out with. Because of this, his dad was his best friend, the one that was always there. His dad probably knew him better than anyone else in the world. Which is why Burt sat down on the couch next to his son and hit the mute button on the TV remote.

Kurt looked around in protest. "I was watching tha—"

"You can watch TV any old day," Burt informed him. "Seeing you smiling like that is something that can't be seen any old day."

Kurt looked up at his dad, smiling at him and then he smiled, too.

"So, what's happened?" Burt asked.

Kurt sighed and sat up straight. "Well—"

But Burt cut him off mid-sentence, frowning very slightly. "This has to do with that Blaine kid, doesn't it?"

Kurt's mouth developed into a small 'o' shape and his blue eyes widened. Did his dad know everything? "How did you..?" Kurt asked, trailing off at the end.

"Because I know you," Burt replied. "Look, Kurt, you can't let him keep leading you on like this. He's got a girlfriend, even if he does care about you. Fair enough if he still wants to be friends, but—"

"He doesn't have a girlfriend," Kurt shook his head. It was true, in a way. Quinn was only his pretend girlfriend. It didn't mean anything and even if they couldn't tell anybody, Blaine was making him happy.

"He doesn't?"

"They broke up and um," Kurt stuttered. He hadn't told anyone this yet and he probably wouldn't for a long time. "We're sort of.. Together."

"Sort of together?" Burt looked sceptical.

Kurt nodded. "Look, dad, he's not ready to come out. He's not. He has a lot to deal with, what with his friends and his status and his dad—especially his dad. I can't force him out of the closet just because I want him to admit to the world that he likes me." Loves me, Kurt thought, silently. "I'm okay with keeping it a secret. He'll come round, I know he will. He's getting so much better at it and—"

"Look, Kurt," Burt said, tiredly. "I'm happy that you're happy, don't get me wrong and he's a good kid, but I just.. I think you deserve more, you know? I think you deserve someone who's not afraid, who's as brave and as confident as you are."

Kurt sighed. "Dad," he said. "It took me time to get to where I am today and I'm really only just finding myself now. Blaine's only at the beginning, he still has a long way to go. And I like him, dad, I really like him."

Kurt didn't want to tell his dad that he loved him. Yes, he had told him before that he might be in love with him, but now it all felt that much more real. Blaine was telling him he loved him every so often. He looked a little awkward while doing it, but the sentiment was still there and Kurt hadn't said it back yet, because despite the fact that he knew Blaine was very much into him, he couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't all the way out of the woods yet. Blaine still had a lot going on and who knew what he would do? If Kurt gave him everything, his heart, those three words, then he would have all of him and Kurt would have been happy giving Blaine his all if things hadn't been the way they were. He would say it back some day, but today was not that day.

"You think you and him can come out winning on the other side of—of all that?" Burt asked.

Kurt shrugged. He wasn't sure. He hoped so and Blaine seemed hopeful, but you didn't always get everything you wanted.

"Maybe," Kurt said, toying with the bracelet on his left wrist. He never took it off. "I hope so. We—he—I think we're good together. We're happy, anyway."

It had been a week since they had decided on the whole 'boyfriends' thing. It had started off a little bit awkward, but they were more comfortable together now.

"You should bring him over."

"I should do what?" Kurt asked, sitting up a little. "Why? You've met him already."

"I met him as the asshole you were helping out, then I met him as a kid that just cared about your well-being," Burt pointed out. "Now I want to meet him as your, y'know, boyfriend."

Kurt's skin began to hum every time he connected Blaine and the word 'boyfriend'. He hadn't ever really had a boyfriend (Evan didn't count and he hadn't ever referred to him as his boyfriend anyway, except for that one time when he'd been trying to piss that one guy at his old school off) and sometimes, he wanted to tell everyone, to just scream it from the rooftops that Blaine Anderson was his boyfriend.

"I—um, okay?" Kurt made it a question.

"Bring him over for dinner tomorrow," Burt smiled and Kurt could tell he was really trying, because he had seen how much Blaine meant to Kurt.

"All right, cool," Kurt beamed. "I'll call him." Because Kurt would take any excuse to call Blaine.

"Yeah, you do that," Burt nodded. "But first, I gotta tell you something."

"Finn Hudson's mom."

"What?" Blaine asked, when he answered the phone.

"My dad," Kurt said, slowly. "Is dating Finn Hudson's mom."

Blaine sank back on his pillows and smiled. He could always smell Kurt's on his things these days, that smell of soap and vanilla and an array of other things he could never quite place. Blaine loved how dramatic Kurt was about everything, how he made everything so much more interesting just by the tone in which he said it.

"Is that bad?" Blaine asked.

"No," Kurt told him. "But of all the people in town, he's dating Finn's mom. How uncanny is that?"

"I've never seen Finn's mom," Blaine realised. "And now all I can picture is Finn Hudson with a wig and in a dress. I'm so creeped out right now."

"Oh my God, Blaine," Kurt gasped, faux horror in his voice. "Never say that again."

Blaine chuckled. "Sorry," he smiled. "So, other than Finn Hudson in heels, what's going on?"

"Heels," Kurt breathed and Blaine laughed. "Actually, I sort of told my dad about us."

"Oh," Blaine said, quietly.

"Should I not have?"

"Oh, no," Blaine said, quickly. "No, I didn't mean that. I just meant, you know, I—he's thinking exactly what I am: That you deserve better than me, that you deserve someone who's not afraid to walk down the street holding your hand."

Blaine hated doing this to Kurt, hated that he couldn't just tell the world that he had him. He was so tired of pretending, but too afraid to let the truth come out, even if sometimes that was all he wanted.

"I don't want anyone else," Kurt told him.

Kurt said things like that sometimes, romantic things that should have made him smile and they did, at first, but then he would remember that he wasn't giving him everything, wasn't giving him all the things he deserved from the guy that claimed to love him. And he did love Kurt, a lot, more than he had ever loved anyone.

"You're an idiot, then," Blaine sighed, but he was smiling.

"Anyway," Kurt said. "He wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow. Does that weird you out?"

"Not as much as Finn Hudson in a dress," Blaine quipped back and he heard Kurt scoffing on the other end. "But yeah, I don't know. I guess it makes me a little nervous, but I'll do it. I owe you this."

"You don't owe me anything, Blaine," Kurt sighed, tiredly. "And if you don't want to come, just say so and we'll forget about it."

"No," Blaine said, sitting up, his heart sinking a little. "No, Kurt, stop. Look, I'm coming. I want to. I do. I want to come, I promise."

"No, you don't," Kurt told him.

"I do," he assured him. "I just—I'm scared of messing this up, is all. I don't want to screw up what we have. Not ever."

"And you won't," Kurt said, happily. "At least not as a result of meeting my dad."

Blaine didn't say so, but he wasn't convinced. He had this knack of ruining everything that he touched. He hoped to God that this would be the turning point, that he would never screw up again, because if he hurt Kurt again, he would never forgive himself.

"You," Blaine smirked. "Have far too much faith in me."

"You're always putting yourself down," Kurt said and Blaine could hear him smiling, but he was being serious. "You'll be fine, Blaine."

"I hope," Blaine told him. "So, what time do you want me and what should I wear?"

"Ooh," Kurt hummed and Blaine realised he could have worded that better. "How about in ten minutes time in your field and wearing nothing?"

"I meant tomorrow, dork," Blaine grinned. "But that does sound tempting."

"Oh my God," Kurt said, when he opened the door and saw Blaine standing there. "You look petrified."

"Thanks," Blaine deadpanned.

"This is a new look," Kurt said, looking over Blaine's outfit. "The bowtie." Kurt chuckled. He had never seen Blaine dressed like this, he was always so busy conforming to how others expected him to dress. Kurt guessed this was the real Blaine.

"What?" Blaine asked, looking alarmed. "Should I lose it?"

"No, no," Kurt grinned. "It's cute."

"Okay," Blaine said, looking unsure. Then he looked up at Kurt, golden eyes sweeping all the way from the boots on his feet up to his blue eyes. "You look good, but you usually do."

Kurt smiled and stood back to allow him space to get in, but Blaine was Blaine so he slid in and brushed his body off Kurt's as he went. Kurt gasped a little at the contact, but he didn't move away.

"I'm going to kill you," Kurt teased, brushing his shirt down.

"Why, did I get you hard?"

"Blaine!" Kurt hissed, gesturing towards the kitchen, where his father was struggling with making dinner. "No, you did not. Come on."

Kurt began walking towards the living room, Blaine following closely behind. Kurt could feel him staring at him, those eyes like burning cinders locked on him as he walked.

"God," Blaine uttered. "Your butt looks so good in those jeans."

Kurt swung around to look at him. He gave him a half-amused, half-bemused expression. "When you're nervous, do you always cover it up with sex?"

Blaine gave him a sheepish smile. "Not that I've noticed before now," he told him.

Kurt smiled, shook his head, then continued on into the living room and sat down. Blaine took a seat next to him.

"How are the bruises doing?" he asked, turning to look at Kurt.

Kurt lifted his shirt to show him the faded bruises. Blaine hadn't seen his bare chest in a few days now and the bruising had gone down quite a bit since then. It didn't hurt as badly any more, either. Kurt blushed as Blaine studied his torso, his eyes crinkling a little at the sides as he ran them over the pale red bruises. Kurt concentrated on taking even breaths as he watched Blaine, trying to read his expression.

"They still look pretty bad," Blaine said, nibbling gently on his bottom lip.

"Yeah, but they feel a lot better," Kurt told him.

"Oh."

Kurt and Blaine looked around to see Burt standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and darting around a little. He was holding a red and white striped tea cloth and seemed to be wiping his hands in it. Kurt blushed harder and dropped his shirt back down over his chest.

"I was just, um, showing him how the bruising has gone down," Kurt explained.

"Right," Burt said, awkwardly.

There was a silence that lasted about twenty seconds long, before Blaine stood up and spoke.

"Um, hi, Mr Hummel," he said and Kurt looked up at him, eyes wide. "Thanks for inviting me over."

Burt seemed to attain his usual manner then. "No sweat, kid," he smiled. "And call me Burt. Dinner's done."

"So, you like football, Blaine," Burt said, as he scooped more peas onto his plate. Kurt glanced from his dad to his boyfriend, as he poked at his side salad with the prongs of his fork.

"Um, yeah," Blaine answered. "I mean, I like watching football. Playing it is okay, just.. Not really my thing."

Kurt stared at him. "But you're the quarterback of the football team," he reminded him.

"Not because I want to be," Blaine uttered, eyes on his food. He looked nervous and as if he would rather talk about anything else in the world.

It struck Kurt then that he hadn't ever really asked Blaine about the whole football issue. he had just assumed he liked to do it. He realised then that Blaine only played football because that was what his dad wanted him to do. He was good at it because he had talent, but also because he pushed himself to be good, to please his father.

Kurt decided to change the subject, but Burt cut in first. "Got any plans for after you finish school yet, Blaine?"

Blaine looked uncomfortable. "Um," he said. "I don't know. I thought I had it all worked out, but.. Things change, I guess." He shrugged and continued to cut his meat into small pieces.

"Kurt applied to New York," Burt told him and Kurt looked up at him, eyes wide, as if to ask why he would just tell him something like that. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell Blaine, or hadn't told him on purpose, it was just that they were working through a lot of things and they didn't need the stress of the future and college to sit on top of the already-large pile.

"Yeah?" Blaine looked up at Kurt and smiled a little. "That's great."

Kurt smiled and looked away. It was early in their relationship to be thinking so far ahead, but they would have to, eventually.

"Can I ask you something?" Burt said and Kurt looked up at him and tried to get him to stop, because this was quickly becoming very awkward. Burt ignored him—or didn't notice, Kurt couldn't tell—and spoke after Blaine gave a small nod. "Last week, you had a girlfriend."

"Dad," Kurt said, laying his fork and knife down.

"It's okay," Blaine told Kurt, then looked back to Burt. "I—Quinn and I were only ever together because we were always told we should be. I sort of just—accepted that, but um, apparently, I don't even—uh, like, um, girls."

Kurt gave Blaine a smile, because he knew it had been hard for him to admit that to someone that wasn't Kurt. He was getting there, getting better every day.

"Okay," Burt nodded. He seemed to accept it, but Kurt knew he wanted to say more. He wouldn't allow him to, because as hard as Burt tried, he didn't really understand what Blaine was going through, especially since Kurt hadn't exactly told him everything. He made a mental note to talk to him about it, tell him the little details, minus all the sex, obviously.

"Um," Kurt said. "Dad, I'm going to go finish my homework." He stood up and looked at Blaine, who appeared to be finished with his food. "Coming?" Kurt asked.

Blaine stood up quickly and lifted his plate to take into the kitchen. "Uh, thanks Mr Hu—Burt. Dinner was great."

Burt gave him a smile and a nod and then looked at Kurt, smile disintegrating. "Door stays open."

"Are you serious?" Kurt asked Blaine, his eyes wide.

"Serious about what?" Blaine asked, looking confused.

"You just.. You worked that math problem out like it was nothing to you," Kurt said, looking at Blaine, his face a mask of surprise. "Yet you couldn't figure out that Quinn couldn't possibly be pregnant with your baby? What is wrong with you?"

Blaine laughed and closed Kurt's math book. He sat back and sighed. "I'll never get how I didn't add that up faster."

"Me neither," Kurt told him, throwing his books down onto the floor and falling back next to Blaine, their heads close.

"She called me today," Blaine told Kurt, smile frowning.

"Oh, yeah?" Kurt asked and Blaine caught the brief flash of disappointment in his bright, blue eyes. Blaine reached down and laid a hand over his. Kurt didn't respond, just allowed him to place his hand there.

"Relax," he said. "She called to remind me about the stupid Valentine's dance. Apparently, she found some kind of dress that flares out and hides her bump, or whatever. I don't know why she was telling me this, but yeah.. I have to pick her up at 7 on Saturday."

Kurt just nodded and Blaine gave his hand a small squeeze. "You're coming, right?"

"No," Kurt said, looking at him like he was crazy. Blaine wished he would just show him he was okay, just one teeny, tiny squeeze of his hand would stop the familiar sinking feeling in his stomach.

"What? Why not?"

"Blaine," Kurt said. "You want me to go to a Valentine's dance by myself? That is beyond tragic."

Blaine chuckled. "Why?" he asked. "It's not like you're actually single, you know?"

"Regardless," Kurt told him. "I don't really want to see Quinn all over you the whole night, so I'll be just fine here watching 'Hairspray' for the umpteenth time, thanks."

"You know she doesn't.." Blaine trailed off, because Kurt was frowning. "Kurt," Blaine said, shifting his body so that they faced one another. "Do you want me to tell her the deal's off? I'll do it. Because, okay, maybe the whole coming out thing really scares me, maybe I'm not totally ready for it, but at least the lies would be over and I'm just so tired of lying."

"Yeah," Kurt said. "And then you'll get tired of the fighting, because that's what you'll be doing for the next while, you'll be fighting to show people that there's nothing wrong with you, that who you like doesn't make you a different person to who you were before you came out. You can't win, Blaine. Either way, you're going to be tired, so at least wait until you're ready for the fight. Just.. Just wait."

Blaine sighed and moved in closer to Kurt. "You're always so sensible," he smiled, slightly, staring up at the white ceiling.

"One of us has to be," Kurt smiled down at him.

"I still think you should come," Blaine apprised him.

"Why?"

"Because I like looking at you," Blaine tilted his head. "Plus, I'm pretty sure you'd get a kick out of the whole thing."

Kurt moved closer still, which gave Blaine some relief. Kurt sighed and placed a hand gently down on Blaine's bicep. Blaine shivered. "Let's stop talking and make out, or something."

Blaine turned his body and moved so that he was hovering over Kurt. He smiled down at him. "Say you'll go."

"No," Kurt said. "You can't blackmail me like that."

"Can't I?" Blaine asked, lowering his hips. He saw Kurt swallowing hard as his ocean blue eyes dropped to look at Blaine's lower half meeting his own. Blaine chuckled as Kurt blushed high and bright in his cheeks.

"My dad has a shot gun," Kurt panted a little, eyes rolling ever-so-slightly backwards in his head as Blaine pressed his crotch into Kurt's.

"Really," Blaine said, lowering his mouth down to find Kurt's slender, pale neck.

"No," Kurt uttered.

Blaine chuckled and grazed his dry lips all along Kurt's neck, starting from the small patch behind his ear. He dragged his lips down as far as Kurt's pulse and sucked his skin into his mouth. Kurt shuddered beneath him.

"Mm," Blaine whispered into Kurt's neck. "You taste like.. Um, something I can't put a name to, but it's gorgeous."

"Are you eating me, or kissing me—Oh!" Kurt's breath caught in his throat as Blaine pressed the palm of his hand roughly against his semi-hard length. "Oh—Fuck, Blaine, why would you—damn—why would you do this while my dad is—oh!—upstairs? Dammit."

Blaine ignored his complaints and slid the zipper on Kurt's jeans slowly down. In one swift movement, Blaine slid his hand past the waistband of Kurt's underwear and took him in his hand.

"Will you come to the dance?" Blaine asked against Kurt's lips. "Please?" He began to pump his hand back and forth along Kurt's length and Kurt's sparkling eyes disappeared, his milky lids concealing them like a curtain.

"No," Kurt said, breathlessly, as Blaine ran his thumb over the slit. Kurt was completely hard now and Blaine took so much pleasure in the small, gaspy, moaning sounds he was making.

"Really?" Blaine asked, catching his earlobe between his teeth. "Not even now?"

Kurt hummed as Blaine stroked him back and forth harder and faster and Blaine knew he was close from the way his breathing had sped up and how his hips were jerking and how his eyes were rolling back and how Blaine had to close his mouth down over Kurt's to swallow the loud moans he was emitting.

Blaine knew he was close, so he removed his hand.

Kurt whined against Blaine's lips, his fingers gripping his shirt. He tried to speak, but his words came out in a muddle of incoherent grunts.

"Tell me you'll come to the dance," Blaine said, kissing Kurt's lips once. "I promise it'll be fun."

Kurt shook his head and groaned. Blaine pressed two fingers to the underside of Kurt's cock and Kurt moaned again.

"Please, Blaine," he panted.

"Say you'll come," Blaine urged, pushing Kurt's now damp hair back from where it was sticking to his forehead. "Come on, baby. Tell me you'll come."

Baby.

That hadn't been intentional and he saw Kurt react to him saying it, his blue eyes freezing for a split second and his lips pausing mid-moan. It was just that Kurt did things to him, things no one had ever done to him and watching him like that, knowing he was doing this to him, making him come undone, making him unravel at the seams, made Blaine crazy. He was nuts about Kurt and sometimes, it still stunned him, but when he looked at Kurt, he knew there was no way he could ever be any other way than hopelessly in love with him.

"Tell me you'll come," Blaine said quietly in Kurt's ear, his voice a little raspy.

"Fine," Kurt broke finally. "Fine. I'll come. I'll come, okay? Just—please, Blaine."

Blaine grinned and closed his hand down over Kurt's throbbing erection again. He moved his hand quickly back and forth a couple of times and then Kurt was coming in his pants. Blaine didn't stop moving his hand until Kurt's hips had stopped spasming. He pulled his hand out and fell back next to Kurt.

"That was hot," he told him, without thinking.

Kurt simply lay there, breathing, his eyes closed. A few seconds later, Kurt sat up and opened the bathroom door.

"I can't believe you just did that with my dad upstairs," Kurt shook his head. "And the door is open!"

Kurt flung a towel at Blaine so that he could clean his hand off. He smiled as he did and Kurt grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and jeans.

"Admit you liked the risk," Blaine teased. "Plus, now you're going to the dance!"

"Um, no," Kurt said. "I'm not."

"But you said you'd come," Blaine said, face falling.

Kurt chuckled and gestured towards his pants. "And I wasn't lying, was I?" he smirked. "I did come."

Kurt gave Blaine a wink and then he turned and walked into the bathroom, leaving Blaine gaping after him.

To: Blaine.
Got told to pass on the message. New Directions are singing at the dance. Yay (assume sarcasm).

To: Kurt.
Which means you'll have to come after all!

To: Kurt.
I meant go, not come. GO.

To: Blaine.
Unfortunately, yes. This means your hand job was all for nothing.

To: Kurt.
Not for nothing, no.

To: Blaine.
When did your mind get so dirty?

To: Kurt.
When did yours get so clean?

To: Blaine.
It didn't.

To: Kurt.
Good.

"Boy, you look good in a suit!"

"Thanks, Mercedes," Kurt grinned. "Pearly purple is totally your colour."

Mercedes beamed at him and he gave hi hair a final spray, before joining her by the door.

"Ready to go?" Mercedes asked.

The dance was the last place Kurt wanted to be, but part of him wanted to see how Blaine was with Quinn in public. He had seen them in the school halls, but this was different. They would have to dance here. Kurt couldn't decide if it was a good idea that he was attending, or a bad idea.

Either way, he gave Mercedes his best smile.

"Ready!"

The school gym was dark and intricately decorated and Artie and Sam were singing on the raised platform that was supposed to mimic a stage. People were dancing and singing and laughing and the entire hall was an array of colours and shapes and slinking bodies.

Blaine was dancing with Quinn, because that was what he was supposed to do. She was sighing in his ear, because she was clearly as fed-up with this as he was. Her dress was red and huge. It was tight fitting around her chest, then flared out in a large netted skirt. He wondered what Kurt would say if he saw it. He smiled at the thought.

Blaine couldn't tear his eyes from the entrance door. He was waiting to see that perfectly styled, sand-brown hair, those shining blue eyes, that pale, flawless, alabaster skin. He wondered, after a while, if Kurt had changed his mind and decided not to come.

"Are you looking for your boyfriend?" Quinn hissed in his ear. "Because he probably won't come, you know? It would be kind of sad if he did."

"He'll be here," Blaine told her, simply.

Quinn looked up at him and rolled her eyes. Blaine sighed and looked back at the door again. He saw Mercedes and Rachel coming in the door, laughing, Mercedes dressed in purple, Rachel, in pink. Kurt had to be with them, didn't he?

Blaine lingered on the spot, just swaying a little with Quinn, then he saw those searching blue eyes, saw that perfect coiff, saw that pale, almost-translucent skin. He watched him blinking, slowly and carefully, his eyes looking around the hall, studiously. Blaine felt his heart sinking as Kurt turned his head to smile at Mike Chang, who had just greeted him.

When Kurt smiled, it made him weak.

When Kurt smiled at him, it set him alight inside.

Kurt turned his head, slowly and then his eyes landed on Blaine. Kurt smiled, blinked, then smiled again, followed by a couple more quick blinks. Blaine returned his smile and Kurt gave him the most subtle of winks, before turning back to the rest of his friends.

"They're staring at him," Quinn said and Blaine snapped back into reality. he had forgotten she was there.

"What?" he asked, flustered. "Who?"

"Them."

Blaine looked in the direction Quinn was gesturing and saw Puck, Kenny and Karofsky standing by the refreshments table. Puck was frowning at Blaine. Karofsky and Kenny were looking in Kurt's direction. Karofsky was scowling and Kenny was grinning from ear to ear, like the Cheshire cat. Blaine glared at them, then turned away again.

They could stare all they wanted, Kurt was his and there was nothing they could do to change that.