The girls had joined them for a short while before deciding that watching the two boys destroy each other's characters wasn't really all that interesting and Kurt had joined them in Rachel and Santana's room for facials and manicures with which to start their trip off right.

It was only after Kurt was washed off his first exfoliating mask that he realized that he hadn't seen any of the Dalton boys since he left Blaine (who slept beautifully, Kurt noticed in the few seconds he allowed himself to stare before he felt like creepy vampire stalker Edward Cullen) and Thad sleeping in their room. It was seven before he heard the commotion overhead and figured the boys must be amusing themselves in their rooms, and he stopped worrying about it. It was a little sad to find that there wasn't much mingling going on with the two groups (not because he wanted to be around Blaine of course, simply in an academic exchange point of view) but then again, thought Kurt as he applied a thin layer of clay and avocado mask onto his face, what was he gonna do, invite them over for a little spa morning?

Kurt felt better about this after their day out in the school, and of course after lunch and the little shopping trip with Wes, Blaine and Santana, although he would never admit to the Latina exactly how much he had enjoyed himself. Especially not since she decided that he and Blaine must have gotten up to something involving buying lube and condoms in the pharmacy and sneaking off to the bathroom. But he still worried when he thought back to the quiet breakfast they had shared that morning, and the way the only reason Santana and he had been place with the Italians at all was because their friends were too self-centered to realize they had left the two of them behind. He didn't want the only reason for him to be around the Dalton boys (not boy, boys he told himself stubbornly) to be his friends ditching him.

His worries melted away a little when the group gathered for supper at five (for which Kurt and his group had nearly been late thanks to their combined lack of a sense of orientation) and they entered the dining room to find Jeff and Nick pestering Finn again (who seemed to be enjoying it more than he ought to if he understood what was going on, thought Kurt) and Sam translating a fascinating conversation about classic Broadway numbers versus Top 40 numbers going on between David, Thad, and Rachel. Quinn and Mercedes were listening in on the conversation and were occasionally interjecting with their own opinions but seemed content to watch the debate unfold on the side-lines. Mr. Schuester sat at the head of the table looking incredibly pleased with the recent development.

Dinner had been a lovely and lively affair with many languages overlapping and shouting out things so fast Mr. Schue and Sam had trouble keeping up with the translating. The English only rule had been abandoned pretty quickly although there were still some half-hearted attempts being made if only to placate Mr. Schue. They finished eating their pizzas soon enough (Mr. Schuester also explained to them that kitchen and cooking duties would be divided amongst them along with other chores such as cleaning the house and shoveling snow at breakfast the next morning), and the group had moved to the living room after one of the Italian boys mentioned that he brought over some games for Finn's console. And so it was that the bloody first-person shooter marathon came about.

At least Kurt thought it was a First-Person Shooter. To be honest he only knew the name of like, two other types of video games, so he tended to go with that and just nod along whenever Finn prattled on to him about his beloved video games.

Which brought him back to the moment, him sitting on the window seat of the main floor, wrapped in blankets, crocheting his scarf while on the couch were Quinn, Rachel and Mercedes, who were all supporting the boys playing video games on the floor, much too close to the television in Kurt's opinion. Quinn and Rachel were cheering for Finn who was in a team with Jeff while Mercedes cheered for Sam who was playing with Nick. The room was loud with cheers and jeers both in Italian and French being shouted over the other, but Kurt reveled in the loudness for once; it felt like home, like he was right back in France in his living room where Finn would have a video game marathon with all his buddies while Kurt blasted Barbra Streisand and Patti LuPone in an effort to drown them out.

On one of the two love seats in the room was Thad, reading a book and exchanging commentary with David who sat on the floor leaning against the side of his chair and on the other one sat Wes who seemed to have been reading as well at some point but was now very much distracted by the lap-full of Santana he suddenly seemed to have attached to his face.

Apparently Santana was repaying him for all that MAC make-up he'd bought her.

Kurt was about to wonder where Blaine had gone (he had seen him on the floor watching the game earlier, not that he had been staring at the back of his head or anything) when he heard the unmistakable sound of a throat clearing right beside him.

Standing there in his dark jeans and thick sweater was none other than the Italian in question. But what really stopped him in his tracks was what he was holding.

"Tu- Tu joues la guitarre?" You-you play the guitar?,asked Kurt, licking his suddenly very dry lips.

"Mm? Ah! Si, si,suono la chitarra... Posso sedermi qui? Non ci sono altri posti..." Huh? Oh! Yeah, yes, I play the guitar...May I sit here? There aren't any other seats...said Blaine, lifting his guitar a little in his hand as he replied. His voice was soft and hopeful as he pointed to the open spot across from Kurt on the little window seat with a nod of his head.

Kurt's heart was suddenly pounding ferociously in his heart. The window seat was rather small and while neither he nor Blaine were particularly big guys, they would have to press together, legs tangling with one another's to fit comfortably on it. Not that Kurt minded of course, something he quickly indicated to Blaine with a sharp shake of his head and offering the spot to him with an extended hand, but he couldn't help but flush at the idea that a guy wanted to sit that close to him

That Blaine wanted to sit that close to him.

He snapped out of his thoughts just in time to catch the tail end of Blaine's giga-watt smile and see him climb onto the seat with a lot more agility Kurt would have given a guy holding a guitar credit for. He could feel Blaine's feet and calves pressing against his own beyond his raised and folded knees, as Blaine sat himself cross legged across from him, guitar held carefully in his lap.

"Accogliente, no?" Cozy, right?asked Blaine with what Kurt deemed to be a criminally gorgeous smile.

Although he didn't understand what Blaine had said in the least he found himself nodding and smiling back to the curly-haired boy before ripping his gaze away from his face and returning to his crocheting, smile still in place. He told himself he would finish the damn scarf and not just ogle at the boy in front of him but that resolve lasted all of two minutes which is what it took Blaine to stop tuning his guitar to his liking and start strumming along to a beautiful little tune he was humming under his breath.

Well that's just not fair, thought Kurt, completely entranced by the little show Blaine was putting on for him, even though he was unaware of this, as his eyes had closed in concentration, brow furrowed, lips mouthing along to the words in his head, completely lost to the music he was creating.

It was all Kurt could do to stop himself from pouncing on the boy.

After another verse of this pseudo humming, Blaine seemed to sense that something was off and he opened his eyes to find Kurt staring at him, lips parted in what Blaine thought to be astonishment and maybe a little admiration.

He wasn't so conceited as to readily accept that there was attraction in that gaze, although a little voice in the back of his mind seemed more than ready to believe it.

Blaine's fingers stumbled over themselves and he strummed a dissonant chord, flinching and blushing as it rang out.

"T'es incroyable! Serieux, tu joues super bien! Et tu chantes en plus?" You�re incredible! Seriously, you play really well! And you sing too?

It was like Kurt's brain to mouth filter had been completely shot and his inner thirteen year-old fan girl had taken the reins. He had the decency to at least stop himself before he started drooling and begging him to sing him something, a small mercy on the part of his body for which Kurt was immensely thankful, but he was still left blushing madly and hoping Blaine didn't understand enough of what he was saying to take note of the overexcited way Kurt reacted to his playing.

"Suono la chitarra solo da qualche anno... � pi� facile che portarmi dietro un piano elettrico ed � meglio che suonare il violino o il violoncello... in ogni caso ai miei amici non piace granch� ascoltarmi suonare quegli strumenti... Non so perch� parlo a vanvera, probabilmente non capisci una parola di quello che sto dicendo. Um... chitarra, um, ti disturba? Disturba? Mi capisci? Oh Dio..." I've been playing the guitar only for a few years... it's easier to carry with me than a keyboard, and it's better than playing the violin or the cello... anyway my friends didn't really like to hear me play those instruments... I don't know why I'm rambling, you probably don't understand a word I'm saying. Um... guitar, um, does it bother you? Bother you? Do you understand me? Oh God...

Kurt could see Blaine floundering, and he figured he must have been saying something about the guitar-playing because he kept saying chitarra which Kurt decided had to mean guitar. He also heard something about a piano or a violin and a cello but he couldn't be too sure. Regardless, Kurt figured Blaine must be an incredible musician if he was talking about all those other instruments. By the end of his little speech though he was gesticulating towards his guitar and miming some sort of frowning disapproving face, almost as though he was asking Kurt if it bothered him...

"OH! Non, non, je t'en prie, continue! Um, is nice. Guitarre sounds good."

Frantic Frenglish to be sure, but it seemed Blaine was appeased.

"Um, qu'est-ce que tu chantais tant�t?" What were you singing earlier?

Blaine stared at him a little blankly, brow furrowed as though he were apologizing for not understanding.

"Merde, um..."

Kurt started humming a bit of the melody Blaine had been strumming and murmuring earlier before pointing to Blaine's parted lips, eyes asking him silently what it was.

"Vuoi sentirmi cantare?" You want to hear me sing?

Blaine was struck dumb over the entire situation. It was like his brain wouldn't compute the fact that A) Kurt seemed to like his playing B) Kurt wanted to hear him sing and most importantly, C) Kurt's soft short humming was the loveliest singing he'd ever heard. He was nothing short of overwhelmed at this point although he was trying desperately not to show it.

"Ok..."

Blaine took up his strumming again, playing the soft introduction with trilling and quavering notes before he took a small breath and started singing along in a low sweet voice, the Italian lyrics pouring from his lips like honey. The song was beautiful, rich and melancholy and Blaine's voice was nothing short of heartbreaking.

Kurt couldn't understand a word of what Blaine was singing but he felt his heart tugging in his chest, and he found himself longing for something,a longing born simply from the way Blaine seemed to be imploring through song.

In the back of Kurt's brain he realized that he had heard another version of this song before, a flash of his mom's old vinyl collection coming to the forefront of his mind, the rich sound of an opera singer echoing in his thoughts, but no matter the talent Kurt had grown up hearing coming from his mom's old vinyls it didn't seem to hold a candle to Blaine's slowed down, smooth acoustic version. Kurt was honestly trying to fight the tears pooling in his eyes, trying not to show so outwardly how intensely moving he found Blaine's song.

It seemed like only too few moments later Blaine was strumming the closing chord, the last pure note hanging in the tense air between them.

Blaine, who had closed his eyes once more as he played, fluttered his eyelids open and his gaze caught Kurt's. The air around them was humming, the world was quiet, everything had shrunken down to just the two of them, sitting closely together on the too-small window seat, the cold window pane fogging up from their body heat. Kurt's heart was pounding furiously in his chest, faster than he thought healthy or even possible. The moment stretched between them and then Blaine was oh so slowly lowering his guitar and Kurt was convinced he was leaning towards him when Kurt's most hated sound in the universe rang out.

"Blaine Anderson! You sing! Sam, traduis pour moi! Moi, Rachel Berry, �toile de McKinley-"

Reality came rushing back and with it the crushing realization that whatever that moment could have been was now decidedly not. Blaine was blushing dark red and though he couldn't look Kurt in the eyes he kept sending him quick somewhat apologetic looks, although Kurt couldn't figure out for the life of him why Blaine found it necessary to apologize for Rachel Berry off all people. Rachel Berry deserved a slow painful death. Preceded by a long torture session.

It's decided, thought Kurt venomously as he returned to his crocheting which rather more force than he had to, tonight I am sneaking into her room and burning her disgusting cat backpack.

Blaine had sat through three or so minutes of Rachel's impassioned speech (through Sam) about the importance of a good duet partner and her own stellar musical skill before he managed to extricate himself and flee to take a shower.

He felt his face might stay red forever if he didn't leave Kurt's side that very minute. He unfurled his legs, grabbed his guitar and practically ran out of the room, trying to at least make it to the hall before letting himself stumble and pause due to his very much asleep legs.

What had just happened simply could not just have happened, thought Blaine to himself as he quickly climbed the stairs on still wobbly legs. There is just no way that I am that stupid.

Up the four flights he went, berating himself with every step he climbed, until Blaine reached the top and finally addressed the very reason he was beating himself up for.

He had been about to kiss Kurt.

The blood drained from his face as he realized the implications of his almost actions. Blaine liked Kurt. Seriously liked Kurt. Want-to-kiss-him-when-look-into-his-beautiful-eyes liked Kurt.

Blaine was in deep with French Kurt, met-him-yesterday Kurt.

That cold realization was what propelled Blaine to go into his room, put his guitar away, grab his pajamas and toiletries and hop into the shower for a quick wash before he finally hit the hay.

Yes he might have a bit of a crush on Kurt, but he hardly knew him!

This can't possibly end as bad as it did last time. I just met him yesterday! He isn't anywhere near as deep under your skin as he got, and you don't have to let him get there, Anderson.

Blaine scrubbed his skin with the exfoliating bar of soap he brought with him from Italy before reaching over for his new bottle of Kurt-Approved shampoo, smiling slightly at the memory of Kurt's fingers on his as he smelt the shampoo and the smile he sent him after a long sniff.

You have the power here, he can't hurt you if you don't let him, even if you know by now you can't exactly ignore the way he makes you feel or hide behind Dalton Blaine. You can let him in, but take it slowly, don't let him just barrel into your life like he did and don't fall in love with him.

Simple enough rules, Blaine thought to himself as he closed his eyes and let the warm water wash his hair clean of shampoo, enjoying the pressure from the jet of water on his scalp, the heat of the steam all around him and the rivulets of foamy water running down his body. He ended up staying in the shower for longer than he anticipated.

When Blaine finally emerged from the bathroom it was to find the room dark and filled with two sleeping bodies on either side of the room. Blaine closed the bathroom door partly, leaving a small crack of light to help him see as he silently put his clothes away in his and Thad's dresser. When he was done he quickly shut off the light in the bathroom, submerging the room in complete darkness barring the soft moonlight coming in from the large window in the corner of the room.

He climbed into his bed as quietly as he could, pulling the covers back and then over his body which was turned towards the sleeping boy to his right. Kurt look absolutely stunning as he slept in the moonlight, and Blaine found himself putting off sleeping even as his eyelids got heavier and heavier, wanting to bask in the sight of the beautiful boy for as long as possible. Eventually though, he fell under, with a smile on his face, knowing that he'd soon be dreaming of Kurt.

And even if he didn't he had another 4 months worth of nights where he could fall asleep to the sight before him, again and again.