After Kurt jumped up and kissed him passionately after him (surprisingly suavely) calling them boyfriends though, Blaine was feeling pretty good about the entire endeavour. At the moment, they were sitting on their window sill, Blaine comfortably nestled in his spot between Kurt's legs as they sipped from chilled champagne flutes and watched their friends, all waiting for the stroke of midnight.

The group had sat down for a Chinese take-out New Year's Eve dinner earlier, which Rachel insisted was a Jewish American tradition although Kurt was unsure, during which most of them were interrupted by midnight phone calls from family and friends wishing them well six time zones away, the main exceptions being Sam, Blaine and Brittany who was joining them for New Year's Eve and had spent most of the night glued to Santana's side. Blaine kept looking at his phone a little half-heartedly, almost as though he himself didn't know whether or not he wanted it to ring, and Kurt, seeing his boyfriend's consternation, diplomatically avoided broaching the subject and simply reached out to hold his hand under the table. Kurt had finished using his chopsticks anyway, he said.

As had happened on Christmas day, things settled down somewhat after dinner, which had led to Mr.Schuester turning in for the night and Jeff whipping out the small crate of champagne he had somehow managed to procure for the festivities.

“Me, I still no understand how Americans no drink before they is 21. Sono pazzi! They can go to war, get married, and they cannot have a glass of red with a food? I can't believe it,” said Nick as they pair went around filling the flutes Wes and David had quickly passed around. One round of champagne had quickly dissolved into two and then three, and by now most of the kids were pleasantly tipsy. Blaine himself felt flushed in the face and almost boneless, the way only champagne could make him. Stretched out against Kurt's firm front, Blaine felt languorous and almost seductively drunk, which had him stroking the strong, lean, legs encasing him in long movements. Blaine could feel Kurt's body responding to his affection, spine straightening before molding itself ever closer to him, breath hitching before resuming in a slightly deeper manner than before, arms stiffening around him before pulling Blaine against him and returning the sentiment by lightly ghosting over the abdomen and pectorals they encased.

Feeling first-hand the way Blaine affected Kurt was driving him crazy, and had his head spinning faster and harder that the champagne had. He could only be glad he was seated in front of Kurt as Blaine felt a part of his own anatomy responding to the feeling.

Blaine was snapped out of his reverie by Kurt's warm breath blowing by his ear.

“See, somebody finally got their act together.”

Kurt brought his face closer to Blaine's and pressed his cheek against Blaine's, gently turning his face towards what he was likely referring to. Blaine couldn't be sure as his brain was still stuck somewhere between processing Kurt's lips brushing against his ear and the feel of their cheeks pressed together in such an innocuously intimate manner. As his brain caught up, he finally realized that Kurt had subtly turned them so that he could catch a glimpse of Mercedes and Sam, arms around necks and waists, kissing in front of the fireplace.

“Ah! Good for them. Me, I was hope this happen soon. You're a good friend, not yelling out loud like your friend Rachel did with us.”

“Give her time, she maybe do it again.”

Blaine giggled softly, the more dapper part of his still-sober brain chalking the sound up to the champagne as the rest of Blaine's more than slightly inebriated consciousness gave a small cheer as he snuggled closer to Kurt who replied with a tender kiss under his jaw.

“You know, I am very happy for you. I have always been- I mean, I have never had a person to do this with before. I always was watching alone. Now I can watch with you in my arms.”

Blaine hummed happily as he tried to convey in English how much it warmed him to hear those words being spoken by the person who made him feel much the same way.

“I am so happy for that Kurt. To be for you. And I am happy for you too. Before you I was sad. Now I am not so sad anymore.”

He could feel Kurt smiling against the sensitive part of his neck where the nape connected to his shoulder.

“I am not so sad anymore too.”

“Heille! Les tourtereaux! Vous pensez vous joindre � nous a un certain moment de la soir�e ou pensiez vous rester � c�liner comme de chatons sur votre maudite fen�tre? Parce que franchement, avec la quantit� de champagne que je pense consommer pour le reste de la soir�e, je n'ai aucunement besoin d'une autre source de naus�e.” Hey! Lovebirds! Are you planning on joining us anytime during the night or were you thinking of staying and cuddling in that damn window all night like a pair of kittens? Because honestly, with the amounts of champagne I plan on drinking this evening, I don't need a second source of nausea, said an already intoxicated Santana who seemed to be standing upright only thanks to the arm she had slung around Brittany's shoulders and the strong dancer's arm holding her against the other's side.

“D�gage Satan, t'es pire que Rachel pour l'amour de Dieu.” Go away, Satan, you're worse than Rachel for chrissake.

Santana merely rolled her eyes and turned to Brittany, who had caught her attention again.

“What is Santana said?”

“Is nothing, she just being annyoing and is want us to 'join the party'.”

“Mmm, but I am liking this too much to move yet.”

Kurt hummed against his skin once more in assent and went back to whispering in his ear, although before he could get anything out Rachel interrupted them with more rapid-fire if slightly slurred French, to which Kurt responded much in the same manner he had to Santana.

“She is told us to join party too?”

“Yes. I told her go away if not I burn her cat bag.”

Blaine giggled at that and squeezed the knee under his right hand.

“That is really not a beautiful bag.”

“It is a hideous thing that does not even fit for hipster. It is a fashion crime.”

Blaine's giggles started up again.

“A fashion manslaughter, Blaine.”

Blaine was shaking with the force of his giggles at this point.

“A murder of style, Blaine! A fashion hate crime!”

Blaine started roaring with laughter that quickly became contagious and soon the two boys were rolling with it; as much as the tiny space they were in allowed anyway. When their laughter died down Blaine found himself on his side, hand tucked by his grinning face, both of which were pressed firmly against Kurt's chest. Blaine smiled wider at the feel of Kurt's heart beating rapidly under his fingers, ribs still trembling sporadically from lingering titters. Blaine turned hid head to the side and propped his chin on the back of his hand to gaze up at his boyfriend who was gazing adoringly back.

“I will for sure hide that bag next time I see it. Part because I am afraid you set fire to it part because I want to protect your eyes from it if it is such a terrible crime against fashion to you.”

“Such a good boyfriend I have,” Kurt said with a fake swoon. Or maybe a real swoon.

Blaine hoped he made Kurt swoon because Lord knows the opposite could be said for him.

They spent another minute smiling dopily at one another before a loud crash followed by the group laughing brought them back to where they were.

“We should perhaps listen to your friends. We are not being very social.”

“Mmm, maybe. You meet me here before midnight though?”

“You say like us standing up means I will leave your side. You are wrong. We still do this, just talking to other people too.”

Kurt let out a laugh and put a hand on top of Blaine's ruffled curls.

“Okay, deal.”

Blaine smiled and reached up to place a playful peck on Kurt's lips before bounding out of his lap and extending his hand to his smiling man while waggling his fingers and eyebrows.

“Come on, bello. Is time to be social.”

XXXXXXX

Kurt and Blaine joined the party at the very entertaining end of a rambly Finn apology to Sam and Mercedes, who he had managed to trip and fall on when Rachel smacked him on the arm and told him to 'Look!!!' and his feet got tangled in one another.

Finn was already very uncoordinated when sober, but seeing him drunk was eerily reminiscent of the expression “bull in a china shop”.

After Finn apologized once more (in Italian this time, prompted by a laughing Jeff after hearing his previous English and French apologies which hadn't seemed to do much to mollify Mercedes), Rachel called out for a round of karaoke to kill the final hours before midnight.

“We must sing something! I will be singing classics from the great Piaf, of course, as well as her modern, American, Broadway counterpart, the great Barbara Streisand. I know the words to all her songs from Funny Girl, you know. With magnifique pronunciation too,” words which carried little weight when uttered with a heavy French accent and slurred.

“Kurt! Accompagne moi au piano!” Rachel detached herself from Finn's side and proceeded to detach Kurt from Blaine's as she hauled him in a mostly straight line towards the upright piano sitting in the corner.

“Quelque chose de classique mon chou. Et movement�! Milord!” Something classic, dear. And lively! Milord!

Kurt simply rolled his eyes, took out the music book he almost needn't look at, and placed his fingers on the keys, playing some quick runs to warm up his fingers before launching himself into one of Rachel's favorite …dith Piaf songs, which they had played and sung together many times before at both of their houses.

Allez venez, Milord,
Vous asseoir � ma table,
Il fait si froid dehors,
Ici c'est comfortable!
Laissez vous faire, Milord,
Et prenez bien vos aises,
Vos paines sur mon coeur,
Et vos pieds sur une chaise,
Je suis qu'une fille du port,
Une ombre de la rue

While Rachel sang the slower part of the song and the piano became softer, Kurt took the opportunity to look around the room and see everybody's reactions. Finn looked amazed and dopey as he always did, although Quinn looked surprisingly unaffected by his reaction. In fact she and Thad were sitting quite close under those comforters. Kurt knew they were sick and sharing chicken broth and the blankets, but maybe they were sharing something else too...

He kept looking, noticing Wes and David were coming up with harmonic back-up on the fly for Rachel (who looked entirely too pleased about it), and Nick and Jeff following their lead in a perfect, well practiced third above that spoke of hours of chorus practice. Santana merely frowned upon the spectacle on top of Brittany's lap, looking even more sour when she realized that Brittany was enraptured by the music and was staring at him and Rachel with child-like wonder. The chorus started up again and Kurt focused on the keys once more, this time a joyful Mercedes, a petulant Santana and a slightly hoarse Quinn joining in with Rachel, Santana's mood brightening significantly when this caused Brittany to stare at her the way she had at them.

Kurt cut the final dialogue part of the song and brought it home with the la-da-da's to which he himself joined in, his whole body swinging over the keys with the motion of the song, bringing it all to a crescendo that ended to a round of loud applause.

The loudest of which was Blaine, who was all but yelling out his glee as he went and sat himself beside Kurt on the piano bench before smacking a loud kiss on his cheek and rambling in Italian.

“--davvero, Kurt! Amazing! Want to sing more? Yes? I play now, tell me what.”

Kurt could only laugh and try to gather his wits about him as Blaine started playing the piano expertly, repeating the melodic lines Kurt had been playing mere seconds ago.

After a single listen.

“You are amazing! You have not heard this sing before?” Kurt stared in shock as Blaine played the song almost perfectly, adding trills and embellishments all his own even as he looked at Kurt.

“I am not amazing, just have played piano a long, long time. Pick a song,” he said, pointing to the still open and still ignored song book with a jerk of his chin. “I want to hear you sing.”

Kurt reached out with slightly trembling fingers and flipped to the page of his favourite Piaf song. Normally Kurt would not be one to shy away from a performance but as he arrived to the correct page and stared at the beautiful introduction which had been scribbled over in pencil as he learned to play it, he simply kept flipping until he got to another song.

“This is one of her most known songs. I like it almost best. Can you play it?”

It had a simple beat, and was not all that difficult to play and with little else than a quick overview, Blaine began playing the song, slow and purposeful, with an ease that spoke of years of sight-reading but with none of the stiffness Kurt would have expected.

“Non! Rien de rien... Non! Je ne regrette rien...”

Kurt sang with a loud clear voice that encompassed the entire room, but he had eyes only for Blaine, who glanced back at him as often as he could. Kurt sang with a deep passion, relating the emotional message as powerfully as …dith herself. No, Kurt did not regret his life; not the suffering, not the pain and the heartache, the good or the bad because someway, somehow, it had all conspired to bring him here, to this moment, with a beautiful boy staring at him like he was something astounding, playing the piano for him.

Because he had wanted to hear Kurt's voice.

Kurt didn't have to fight to sing, fight to be heard. For once in his life, somebody was reaching out and lending an ear, wanting to hear everything Kurt had to reveal, every whisper, anything and everything at all. Blaine didn't have to say as much; even if he did Kurt might not understand it. But when he looked into his bright brown eyes, so incredibly raw, and tender and beautiful, Kurt simply knew.

“Car ma vie, car mes joies, aujourd'hui, �a commence avec toi!”

Blaine played the final bars as Kurt his final note and a few seconds later, both were nothing but an echo ringing out in the silence of the room. A silence broken by the deafening applause from their friends, which brought Blaine out of his trance long enough to turn his body towards Kurt. His eyes were bright and his mouth was open and his jaw was moving as though he were trying to formulate words but couldn't find them, and as much was probably true. Kurt and Blaine didn't always have the words, not yet anyway.

Kurt simply leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips.

They still managed to get their messages across.

XXXXXXX

There were more songs played after that, although none anymore by Kurt or Blaine who had retreated to their room in lieu of their window sill.

They had held hands as Kurt pulled Blaine along up the stairs, oblivious both the the catcalls coming from theirs friends, both stuck in their little speechless world. Kurt could swear that he felt Blaine heartbeat, as fast and loud as his own, beating through their laced fingers. When they reach the top floor, Kurt stopped at their door and turned around to face Blaine, locking gazes for the first time since after their kiss at the piano.

The heat in Blaine's gaze was still there, burning hotter in Kurt's veins that he had ever thought possible, and by the tiny broken sound that came from Blaine's lips, he must have seen something along the same lines within his baby blues. They hadn't touched yet, not aside from their intertwined fingers, but somehow, Blaine already looked flushed. Wrecked. Kurt shivered at the images his brain supplied of how he could keep Blaine looking like that. He leaned forward and brought his face close to Blaine's, close enough to feel the heat emanating from him, the raggedness of his breath coming from lips that had parted at his advance, but he did not press his own against them. Kurt pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes, rubbing his nose along Blaine's cheek as his free hand opened the door. He stayed close as he pulled Blaine inside.

It was only once the door was closed behind them and Blaine's back was pushed up against it that Kurt finally (finally) connected their lips again, and neither could do anything more than moan at the contact.

It felt like electricity. Like fire. Like pure, unadulterated passion, the likes of which neither had ever felt nor been prepared for. It charged the air and changed the atmosphere suddenly, breaking through the dreamy haze that had surrounded them both and had them grasping at eachother, Blaine's hands coming up to clutch desperately at Kurt's back, bunching the fabric of his sweater as Kurt's hands came up to frame Blaine's face. Tongues danced, lips shifted and their bodies were pulled close, as though trying to eliminate any space between them, not even air. Eventually though, it clicked that there were still clothes between them, which prompted them both to claw at the other's shirts and sweaters, wanting nothing more than to feel the other's skin on their own.

It was surprisingly Blaine who succeeded to remove Kurt's sweater first, the motivation of unveiling what all those layers covered all the time working in his favor, although Kurt still had a white undershirt laying in wait. Kurt had undone Blaine's bow tie and had worked his way down to the final three buttons of Blaine's shirt, grazing at the skin he revealed button by button, just as Blaine had imagined on his first day here. Blaine shivered in anticipation and couldn't hold back a moan as Kurt got distracted from his mission in favour of pressing his lips to the dip between his collarbones that had been revealed to Kurt moments ago.

Kurt used nothing but feather light presses of his lips, driving Blaine to madness. He threw his head back against the door and arched his back towards Kurt, silently begging for more.

“Oh dio, Kurt. Please-- I-I can't-”

“Shhh...” Kurt undid the last button on Blaine's shirt and brought his hands firmly up his sides, stroking him in a comforting manner, as he mutter more nonsensical soothing noises between kisses to the shorter boy's collarbones, shoulders and sternum. “It's okay.”

Blaine only whined, and brought a hand up to the back of Kurt's head, lightly tugging at his hair (at which Kurt let out a soft hum) but doing nothing to stop Kurt from what he was doing. After all he didn't know if he wanted this torture to stop or never to end.

“My bed?” Kurt asked, looking up from half-lidded eyes, placing an inquisitive kiss on his right pec.

Blaine nodded jerkily, whining low at the back of his throat.

Kurt kept his hands at Blaine's sides and started pulling at him as he walked them backwards to his bed at the far end of the room, only removing them after Blaine's feet seemed to follow on their own to pull his undershirt over his head.

It was like a switch was flipped in Blaine's brain, and what had been nothing more than a moth attracted to the flame, pinned by his desires, became a predator, eying Kurt as though he were a prey he looked forward to devouring. Kurt shivered and smiled as he felt the bed hit the back of his knees and he sat down on the bed. He scooted backwards, not breaking eye contact with Blaine as the boy crawled over him purposefully.

When Blaine brought their lips together, there was nothing innocent and tentative about it, it was driven by pure lust, the evidence of which Kurt felt pressed against his thigh. Kurt moaned and shifted their bodies so his own throbbing erection was pressed against Blaine's, and their bodies instinctively picked up a rhythm that soon had them panting into each other's lips.

“God, Kurt- I-”

“I know- ahh- me too.”

Any other words Kurt could have tried to come up with were swallowed by Blaine, who it seemed had decided to put his mouth to better use than to trying to come up with the words to express the feeling swelling in his chest. Blaine pressed down harder, pinning Kurt to the mattress by the hips, and broke their kiss to groan and mouth against Kurt's extended neck as his hips started humping more erratically, both he and Kurt losing their amateur rhythm and breaking off into a disjointed dance, moving faster and faster, perfectly imperfect until Kurt let out a soft cry and arched one last time against Blaine's body, which took it's cue from him and he bit down on Kurt's shoulder as he groaned through his climax.

Blaine's boneless body slumped down onto Kurt's heaving chest as they both tried to catch their breath, Kurt's arms reaching up to envelop the boy. He ran his hands up and down Blaine's sweaty back, one of them tangling itself in his drenched curls, and Blaine untucked one of his arms from Kurt's sides to stroke at the chest his head was laying on, once more feeling the heartbeat under his fingertips, this time significantly faster than when they were on their window sill.

“That was-”

“Amazing.”

Blaine turned his head and planted a firm kiss to the very center of Kurt's sternum, bringing his other arm up, crossing them over Kurt's chest and he rest his chin on them, Kurt carding his fingers gently through his hair.

“I love you, Kurt.”

Kurt's fingers froze for a split second, shock registering on his relaxed features briefly before a radiantly soft smile overcame them.

“And I love you, Blaine.”

Distantly he heard shouts of numbers being counted off by their friends, ending in a loud shout and blowing noise-makers.

“Happy New Year, mon amour.”

“Happy New Year, bello.”