However, unlike many teenagers, it's easy for him to find silver linings. As much as he could hate that they both have important time-consuming jobs and that he rarely sees them and that they have several stuck-up rich friends who judge him constantly, he doesn't.

Because if none of that were the case he would not have been asked by a family friend to stay the weekend at a very nice, very empty house to protect it from the rag-tag bunch of miscreants who were beginning to inhabit the nicer parts of town.

But he had been asked and he had agreed and he hadn't mentioned to anyone that he would be entertaining a guest. Of course, Kurt has told his dad the most of it, has said Blaine is house-sitting and wants company and yes there are lots of bedrooms and no, Blaine isn't going to suddenly stop being a gentleman and no, there won't be alcohol. They're going to watch movies and talk about clothes and bake a cake.

Like hell.

Kurt walks into this very nice house with a fairly good idea of what he wants to spend the night doing and movies and cake and talking are not key at all. Blaine grins like a man in love and takes Kurt's coat and overnight bag and guides him through the impressive front hall, down a corridor through an archway and into the impressive lounge. Not just your couch and tv room, but a room with seating for a dozen people and a television that takes up half of the fairly substantial wall. Kurt makes the appropriate sounds of awe and allows himself to be seated on one of the big plush three-seater couches facing the entertainment unit.

An hour later and they are watching a movie and Blaine has cooked – all by himself – pizza from scratch and they're picking at what remains. It's been mostly silence, comfortable, both of them enjoying the film and the presence of the other and the way Blaine's right thigh presses to Kurt's left where they're sat beside each other even though they really didn't have to.

Half an hour after that and Blaine's managed to rearrange them so that he's pressed to the corner of the couch and Kurt's slowly leaning back against his chest, one of Blaine's arms over his shoulder, drawing lines up and down his arm. Comfortable, still silent, movie still running.

Kurt's about to scream from the torture of it all. Oh, it's nice, to finally be alone and able to sit like this and feel the presence of each other without worrying about being judged but Kurt is slowly training Finn not to stare wide-eyed when he catches them like this at home and both Burt and Carole have succumbed to Kurt's impassioned logic that if Finn can sit like this with Quinn one week and Rachel the next, Kurt and Blaine can as well.

What Kurt can't do at home is more and that's what he wants here but Blaine has once again failed to read the signals. It's been, what, almost two months? Kurt reasons, and the progression has been agonizingly slow. For Kurt, at least. And there was Blaine, so convinced he would be the one pushing Kurt.

Enough of that.

"That pizza," Kurt begins, lifting a hand and considering the state of his nails as he speaks, "Did you follow a recipe for that?"

He can sense just the slightest tension sliding into Blaine behind him and he's appalled to find himself just slightly turned on by it.

"Yeah, I got one off the internet," comes the older boy's wary response.

"And you didn't change anything?" Kurt presses, letting his classic bitch voice wrap around the words.

It's a voice Blaine knows well from their few and far between verbal scuffles, most famously Kurt's 'Blaine and the Pips' speech. They talked about it once and Blaine admitted that he always thought of that moment as being when Kurt stopped being 'young, innocent, in need Kurt' and started being 'stands up for himself and will put you in your place Kurt'. Blaine had joked it was a little bit sexy but hadn't admitted that it was actually entirely sexy and powerful but probably not effective if he wants to find fault with Blaine's cooking.

"Yeah, I had to swap some of the toppings because I didn't have the right things. And I know you hate mushrooms."

Kurt makes an extremely noncommittal sound of disdain and flicks his nails for effect.

What the hell? Blaine had gone out of his way to make tonight special. A movie he knew Kurt had wanted to see for a while. Dinner, cooked on the premises and pretty damn good. There were candles. There was soft music for later. "Hey," he says, blatant confusion and offence in his tone as he places his hand against Kurt's arm to make him turn and look at him.

Something gives away the situation when Kurt turns around, maybe it's a moment of regret or a moment of amusement but something in his eyes is a lie and Blaine is now more confused than before. "What's going on?"

"It just wasn't all that great," Kurt replies.

Blaine's face screws up because he was sure an hour ago Kurt was groaning around a mouthful and nodding his praise. "It was fine," he says back, more than a little upset.

"No, it wasn't, it was pretty average," Kurt says primly, still in bitch mode but his eyes on Blaine's lips, staring with intent.

"Why are you trying to start a fight with me?" Blaine manages to hit the metaphorical nail on the head and Kurt starts, eyes wide to have been caught out so blatantly even though Blaine was pretty damn confused up until that reaction. "Oh my god, you are trying to start a fight with me?" and he laughs, a bit confused still but mostly just amused at the look on his boyfriend's face. "Why?"

Kurt lunges for him. Stuff all this talking and watching movies, other than a very chaste meeting of lips when he first arrived he has gotten nowhere and that is stupid. So he lunges and wriggles around until he can get his hands free and across Blaine's jaw, one either side, and hold him still as he kisses him hard.

Blaine does not object. Surprised but reacting quickly to the hot, desperate press of Kurt's lips on his and then their tongues find each other and lap and suck and it's hot and breathless and over too soon.

Hand's against Kurt's chest, Blaine presses him back, laughing and groaning into his mouth as he pushes him away. Kurt pouts and Blaine's not convinced he's ever seen that before but is rather convinced it's rather appealing and adds it to the very long list of 'Sexy Things Kurt Does' in his head.

"What's going on?" About the tenth question in a row.

Kurt sighs through the pout and runs a hand through his hair, throwing it askew and that goes on the list as well. He sits back on his knees and says, "I was trying to start a fight." It sounds so dumb when he says it out loud.

"Why?" A little distracted by the hair and shirt that, now that he's letting himself look, is rather tight and plain and short sleeved and v-necked for Kurt. Wow.

Kurt's answered and Blaine's missed it entirely. "Sorry what?"

"Whenever we fight we end up making up pretty sufficiently and so far the making up has highlighted our relationships' more physical side." Kurt blushes. It's adorable.

"You want to get into my pants so you started a fight with me about my cooking?" Blaine asks quite the tinge of amusement to his words.

"Not your pants, per se."

Oh wow, only Kurt could pair 'your pants' with 'per se' and get away with it.

"But I thought we'd be taking advantage of tonight. I thought we'd at least be making out." He rolls his eyes at that particular phrase, they've discussed it but Kurt can't think of a less embarrassing way of putting it.

"At least?" Blaine queries, intrigued and a little breathless at the helpful images his mind always provides when Kurt pushes their boundaries.

Kurt just rolls his eyes again and rolls back off his knees to lean into the opposite side of the couch. "I'm not saying I want to go all the way, we both agreed we're not going to go rushing into that but I think tonight provides the opportunity for certain exploratory experimentation."

"You wanna fool around?" Blaine jokes rather seriously.

Kurt growls, actually growls. On the list. And then he reaches out, long arms, strong arms and a flexible body so he can reach over and grab a fistful of cardigan and yank. Blaine could fight it, could easily hold his ground but why would he? He's on Kurt quickly, lips on lips and a hand steadying himself against Kurt's hip as they kiss again. Hunger and heat and Kurt still tastes a little of pizza. Pizza that was perfectly fine.

Blaine pulls back just enough open his eyes and watch Kurt's blue ones staring back. "Next time just ask?"

Kurt mumbles something against his lips but it's lost and who cares? They kiss again, Blaine's hand slipping under Kurt's shirt to find skin, smooth and strangely hot to the touch and both of Kurt's hands are on Blaine's back, moving up and down and remembering how good his ass feels but not quite managing to reach. And the cardigan is thick, too thick and Blaine's angled badly and can't get enough contact of very much anything.

They both realize it quickly, mouths perfectly content with the situation and only losing contact when Blaine stands up and away from the couch, taking the moment to survey the damage. His boyfriend lagging a little from being kissed quite so thoroughly after wanting it all night is just splayed there, a leg hanging to the ground, the other pressed to the back of the couch, his arms limp, his shirt crumpled and revealing a slither of white skin above his black skin-tight jeans. Blaine's eyes stall at the whisper of hair at the belt buckle. He might be imagining it but he might not and he's ill prepared for the jolt of electricity that races up his spine. Gaze then up to the delicious v-neck and again, something like angel hair his brain provides and he would laugh at that if Kurt weren't suddenly all energy and propelling upwards and kissing him again.

Better contact standing but Kurt has other ideas and whispers in his ear, hot, rough, sexy: "Where's your bed?"

Hand in hand, kind of racing each other, kind of thinking about trying to keep kissing each other all the way there. They hit a wall at some point and it's Kurt against Blaine and the air escapes him and then he's kissed and tugged along but Kurt doesn't know where there going so Blaine takes charge again and ends up backing his boyfriend into the guest room complete with stupidly big bed, stupidly expensive sheets and a stupid number of pillows.

Kurt just pushes him back onto said stupid bed and then he is crawling, crawling, over him on all fours, legs straddling him and Blaine cannot process any of this fast enough and that's how Kurt manages to get a wrist beneath each of his hands beside Blaine's head and lean down and kiss him.

Kiss him over and over until Blaine's making girly little whimpering noises that make Kurt grin and move his mouth along his jaw, down his neck. He bites lightly at the pressure point and moans against the skin there as Blaine bucks up against him.

Good god, Blaine Anderson just bucked underneath him. When did his life become this?

That damn woolen cardigan. His hands abandon holding Blaine's wrists and start to tug at the buttons, slipping them out one by one as Blaine's hands slip into his hair and tug him back for another kiss.

Buttons undone, the shirt beneath is much more to Kurt's liking and his hands move up the planes of Blaine's chest, his mind too foggy to take in the detail but relishing in the feel and the heat and the squirming man under him. His lips move away down to the now-revealed right clavicle and lick and bite. He sucks, remembering how Blaine likes that, wanting to push a little and Blaine's hands slip, one to his neck, one down his back, grasping at his shirt until it can get to the skin of his side and holding fast.

Blaine bucks again and Kurt follows him down, pressing to him as best he can through two pairs of jeans and a less than ideal angle but he can feel so much heat and tension and strength and he's spares a moment's thought to any last remnant of his mind that could still rationalize not wanting to devour this boy whole. Presses harder, grinds and Blaine's hands fly down his sides, sticking to the contour until they find his hips and angle and guide and Kurt, without letting his lips leave the neck they are mapping, shifts a knee to between Blaine's and slides down.

No longer straddling, now pressed head to toe and they both let slip guttural moans at the feel. Then Kurt nips at a tendon stretched taut in Blaine's neck and Blaine can feel the beating of a second heart against his chest and then lips beneath his ear and he lets slip a louder than expected call of his boyfriend's name. In the instant Blaine moan Kurt's name like a plea and rocks his hips involuntarily up against Kurt's thigh, the younger boy reacts from sheer reflex and raises a hand to cover Blaine's mouth.

The freeze for any number of reasons and then both laugh, Blaine through the hand pressed over his lips, Kurt even though his brain is on fire with the knowledge that he can most definitely feel another boy's, Blaine's, cock pressed through two layers of denim against him.

He wonders if Blaine knows that he knows and then forgets to wonder anything because Blaine's lapping at his palm like a cat and it shouldn't feel this good but it does and then Blaine's wrapped his lips around the tip of his pointer finger and sucked it into his mouth. And he's watching him, staring at Kurt's face inches above his and sucking on one of his fingers and this is one of those things Kurt's never really understood. He's seen it, heard it mentioned in passing in fiction and porn but what could possess someone to bother?

Instant neural connections are formed and as Blaine swirls his tongue around and then sucks a second finger into his mouth Kurt's eyes flutter and he cannot help but think of Blaine's mouth, all that hot wet contact, wrapped around him elsewhere and he's got mental images of that that are now paired up with some very convincing feelings and oh god the sound as Blaine's lips pull off the end and he keeps staring and Kurt fights the need to do something rash.

"Okay?" Blaine asks in a whisper and it take Kurt a good few seconds to realize the word is phrased as a question and that Blaine's asking whether Kurt liked him sucking of his finger because Blaine's never done that before and Kurt cannot find words, it might be the first time ever, so he just finds Blaine's wrist and, balanced on one hand, most of his weight still against the chest beneath him brings Blaine's hand to his mouth and licks a line from the underside of his wrist up.

Licks and listens, ignoring the obscene sounds of his own mouth, to Blaine's reactions and feels him pressing up against him again, rocking his hips, his cock, against his thigh and probably by accident returns the favor. Likes that, oh so much, licks more and sucks under the wrist and around the bone there and nips just a little and now Blaine bucks hard and Kurt's sure one of his hips must have just dug in painfully but Blaine seems blissfully unaware with his eyes closed and his head angled back and Kurt bites at his palm and rocks with him.

A harsh moan and Blaine's mumbling "God, it's too much," and pushing away, inexplicably rolling Kurt away and onto his back and making Kurt moan with the loss of it all as Blaine throws an arm over his eyes to keep the sensation out. He can hear Kurt breathing fast and heavy next to him and he feels the bed dip as Kurt props his head up to consider him.

Kurt, not for the first, nor the last time tonight, stares at the splayed body of Blaine beside him. Adores what he sees there even if he's not pleased about not still being pressed to him, feels his heart hammering in his chest as he lets his eyes slide from the flushed neck punctuated with the fading outline of where he's kissed and bitten, down over skin punctuated with sparse dark hair that he wants to run his hands over. Across the rumpled shirt and the devastating lack of skin between it and pants but the vague outline of the planes of a chest and stomach he wants to map with his fingers and his tongue tonight. Now.

Down to his crotch and when did that button come undone? When did he manage that? But it is and Blaine's dark blue jeans are invitingly open to the point where Kurt's pretty confident in labeling Blaine a tight white shorts kind of guy and damn the lack of skin because he wants to see. Almost as much as he wants to touch and even in jeans Blaine's arousal is blatant and Kurt's shocked to find himself licking his lips and staring at his sweet, patient boyfriend like he's prey to be hunted.

Stretches over, ignoring the kind of gentlemanly requirement to ask permission that Blaine would obsess over and flexes his fingers only a second before cupping Blaine tentatively. Oh he is hard and delicious and…wriggling.

Blaine's staring at him like a deer in headlights and has managed to put most of the bed between them as he leans against the headboard and breathes heavily. "Kurt, seriously, it's too much."

Hurt eyes because now Kurt's regretting not asking because he's never stopped to consider if Blaine needs things to be slow but then he looks up to apologize and Blaine is staring back at him and there is absolutely no regret or fear or anything of the sort and an alternate interpretation occurs to Kurt.

And he smiles wickedly and who knew that in the heat of the moment Kurt could look like that and Blaine only has a moment to recognize that he was completely right in his recent reassessment of Kurt's potential for sexy before Kurt is bouncing off the bed to stand beside it, eyes not leaving his older, wiser, completely baffled, completely wrecked boyfriend.

And then he just fucking goes for it. Tugs his shirt over his head and shimmies out of his jeans until he's down to his underwear and Blaine just opens and shuts his mouth and tries to drink him in before he climbs back onto the bed and you wouldn't know it, Blaine isn't capable of such analysis, but Kurt is fighting an internal monologue of uncertainty and rejection and he's never, ever liked how he looks undressed, hates the pallor of his skin and the sharpness of his hips and the lack of manly definition to his chest and arms but Blaine must like him because that's it. He must, and if he doesn't, well this is going to be embarrassing.

Luckily, Blaine is far too obvious, hips now rocking into empty air and his hands clutching at the sheets. "You think taking your clothes off is going to help?"

"I don't know, you tell me." Kurt is crouched at the other end of the bed, in his underwear but he still manages to sound entirely in control of the situation.

Blaine's got a problem now. Because he held out until he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stop himself if they kept going and here's Kurt pushing him further. And he's torn between his own embarrassment and Kurt's because even though he sounds like he's confident and relaxed there are tell-tale signs, an awkward hair flick, darting eyes, tension in his jaw and his thighs and Blaine has to stop from staring at his thighs and be honest, "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"Tell me."

Blaine shakes his head, breath catching in his throat as he slowly, carefully moves forward, crawling on all fours to Kurt and presses forward to kiss him hard on the mouth, panting into it, pressing his lips open and hot and losing technique and then he pulls back just an inch, just for a second and he says, "You're gonna make me come, as long as you know that." Clear as a bell because it has to be understood.

Kurt growls into his mouth, low and rumbling and not like a moan but exactly like agreement and want. The kiss becomes even less controlled and if they stopped and considered the mess of sweat and saliva this has become Kurt would be a little unimpressed and Blaine would be a little embarrassed. As it is, now with permission, now with the promise of an end, Blaine's mouth moves down Kurt's neck as his hands reach out and grasp hips and tug and push until Kurt's laid out beneath him and with a groan he presses down, grinding against his naked thigh and why oh why oh why is he still wearing his pants?

And oh god that's Kurt hard against his stomach, he'd been patently ignoring the press of Kurt's cock against his thigh and could almost convince himself with all the denim but now, with the angle, with Kurt in only thin cotton and his own stomach only covered by a thin shirt, now he can feel every inch of him.

Kurt's hands are tearing at his sides, forcing his shirt up even though physics dictates that require they stop pressing so close. He's desperate to get at more skin and just touch everything, anything, with his hands. They must look ridiculous.

Blaine's hands return the favor, moving fast and all over and why wouldn't they be? And Kurt, oh good god Kurt, - and he maybe says that into his mouth – feels almost exactly how he looks, everything long and smooth and warm. But strength too, taut muscles everywhere, lean but so hard under the soft skin under his hands.

And then Kurt's hands again, over the crotch of his jeans, stroking roughly to get the pressure through the material and Blaine almost loses it right then and there, only the thought that Kurt is almost naked beneath him and hard and this is his chance and he kisses him, distracts him, rolls over him and with a grasp that will bruise ever so slightly he pushes Kurt up to the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Kneels with one leg between Kurt's and kisses him more, nipping and fierce and getting back just as much as he gives.

And then both Blaine's hands are free and against Kurt's body, stroking and caressing across his chest, flicking at nipples because he's read somewhere he should do that and it makes Kurt arch. Then his hands are moving too fast for Kurt to predict, to his cock and Blaine is bold and wraps a hand as best he can around the length of him, fingers pressing through the material and stroking, the other hand on Kurt's thighs and it's no different to when Blaine touches himself but this is Kurt and he is arching and crying out and Blaine watches him and licks the length of Kurt's neck pressed back stretched taut as he pants.

"Blaine, oh my –" bites off the words so Blaine strokes firmer and faster and when Kurt's eyes spring open – desperation, love, uncertainty, heat – Blaine just grinds down against the warmth and strength of the thigh beneath him, willing his body to wait and moves in desperation because this can't last. Moves his spare hand to Kurt's balls and thanks god that Kurt wears such thin underwear and was daring enough to get rid of his jeans and Kurt's whispering his name over and over and Blaine whimpers his name back and they're still staring at each other when Kurt whispers "Fuck" and arches so far from the pillows that Blaine can smell the sex between them and feel the heat of his body stretched out and can only watch his eyes as he pumps against his hands without rhythm, shaking and mumbling and at some point launching himself into his boyfriend and wrapping his arms firmly around him as his body continues to tremble in the aftermath.

That's as much as it takes, watching and hearing Kurt come hard and out of control and in his underwear and against Blaine's hand while he tastes his mouth and the sweat on his skin and then feeling Kurt pressed close to him again, shivers racing through him as his muscles lose their tension and he sags is more than enough. With a moan and a rock up into the press of flesh, Blaine's cock strains – more, now, please – against pants he hates for being there. And then Blaine's lips find Kurt's neck and he sucks hard and Oh. God. Yes. he finally lets himself come. Kurt doesn't let go, lets Blaine's hips rock hard into the underside of his thigh as he rides his orgasm out with a growl and then there's almost silence.

The roar of blood in their ears dies, their breathing begins to level and the continuous stream of monosyllabic words and nouns and noises dies away. They're left clinging to each other in a sprawl of limbs with their arms wrapped around each other and chins on shoulders and eyes squeezed shut. Blaine's the first to realize how sticky and gross and ludicrous this all must be and tries to disentangle but Kurt's arms hold tight for a second longer and he mumbles something unintelligible against his ear and then pulls back just far enough to kiss him. Open mouthed, wet and incoherent, as appears to be the new fashion. Then he really does pull away, gingerly, wondering what to do now. He's terrified because it's not uncomfortable but it could be. Perhaps should be. But he's exhausted and can feel the chemicals in his blood still rushing so he just settles for pulling Blaine down to lie side by side across the bed.

It might be seconds or minutes but eventually the stickiness gets the better of Kurt and he mutters, "We really need to get cleaned up."

Blaine turns his head to meet Kurt's gaze and is relieved to see his dopey grin mirrored. "I know. Can't be bothered."

Kurt's eyes sharpen and he pushes up onto an elbow. "Can you…um…can you take off you shirt?"

When did Kurt get so bold?

Blaine just raises an eyebrow clearly not understanding the request but being reminded of the expanses of sweat-slicked skin facing him and letting his eyes trace as much as they can. He'll be damned if he doesn't want to spend the next 24 hours just committing it to memory, inch by inch. Mostly with his mouth.

Maybe he does understand the request. With the languid, lazy movements of the recently sated, Blaine seems determined to get his shirt off without actually moving from his rather comfortable position on the bed. So he struggles and Kurt laughs lightly and Blaine hopes it's not at him and hopes he doesn't have to get his pants off next because they feel uncomfortably messy and he knows he will go incredibly red.

Shirt off, Kurt's voice is lower than usual and breathless when he mumbles, "I really like that," almost to himself. "I wanted it, just before but couldn't get to it. I'd never really thought about it, distracted by other bits of you, I think, but now…"

Blaine only vaguely realizes Kurt's talking about him because the scratchiness to his voice is entirely too appealing and then Kurt reaches out and runs a hand over his chest, from one clavicle down over the scattering of hair and a nipple and Blaine's breath catches in his throat as Kurt's hand caresses over ribs and muscle, a single finger circling his navel and then tracing the line of hair down to the top elastic of his white underwear that's still showing where the button of Blaine's pants is undone and the zipper half descended.

Leaning forward Kurt presses their lips together and lets his hand move back and forth against Blaine's lower abdomen. When a sigh slips from his mouth and his nails scratch lightly Blaine's body shivers beneath him and then he's rolling off the bed and standing beside it and stating the obvious: "Now it really is too much. And we really need to clean up. I'm all sticky and gross."

Kurt blushes against the sheets and wonders how uncomfortable he should feel to be lying there, messy and flushed while Blaine's stretching his body out and looking amazing in jeans that have slipped half way down his ass. "It really makes me a bit weird that I like you sweaty and sticky and gross?" Kurt's asks tentatively.

But Blaine laughs and then groans and keeps rolling his shoulders back which is making Kurt want to lay his hands against them and feel the movement. And he sees Blaine watching him back, sees his eyes darkened and his lips parted and so Kurt smiles and stretches himself out, pointing his toes and working out the kinks in his legs from all the stupid angles they've just managed. His hands slip behind his head and he doesn't know it – eventually Blaine will convince him – but he looks bold and taut and pale and fucking amazing.

Blaine's pants still feel gross. Reluctantly, he says, "I'm going to go shower and then I think we should curl up downstairs and watch the end of that movie. Sound okay?"

Kurt nods his agreement and starts to move pulling himself to sit at the edge of the bed and Blaine watches and Kurt watches back and wants. "Sounds very okay. I need to shower as well and then I might slip into something more comfortable," he waggles his eyebrows suggestively but only means his pajamas. "Is there another bathroom I can use?"

"Just go one room over, I'll grab you a towel." Blaine disappears for a second into his en suite and returns, throwing a fluffy blue towel in Kurt's direction. It smells of Blaine, clean and crisp, and obviously he's used it before. Kurt wonders if he gave it to him on purpose.

Then they just kind of stand there and it's the first time they've felt properly awkward since this whole thing began. They're both thinking about the enormity of what they've done and yet, at the same time, the inevitability of it and how right it all felt and without really speaking they both seem to come to the decision that it shouldn't be awkward at all.

Kurt's a bit pleased he was a bitch about Blaine's perfectly good pizza.

"I'll see you downstairs later then," Blaine says as he pauses in the en suite doorway still openly staring, still neglecting to do his jeans up properly. He smiles, because this feels like such a silly final moment for it all.

"Yep," Kurt says sounding all too happy and then bounces out the door.

Blaine stares after him, shocked at the outline of an ass to rival his own and he hadn't even noticed, hadn't even paid attention until that moment because it had all been touch and he hadn't had a second to look. But now he knew and in future he would make time for staring at that ass.

A half smile as he closes the bathroom door half way and leans and leans around the glass partition to start the spray of water. He can't remember ever, ever feeling this good. Can't believe Kurt came after him, albeit rather bitchily, but he wanted him, desperately and he kind of just took him. Damn, he had so planned on this just being heavy-petting, that was a step up for them, he hadn't meant this to be the first time that he, they, came together. Fuck, that's exactly what they have just done.

He feels a sudden, silly need to go and tell Kurt that. He resists and pulls off his jeans and underwear in one go.

They're going to do this again. And again and again and more. Blaine shakes his head to clear the images and steps under the steaming water. Ten seconds later he's humming to himself and seconds after that he's broken into full-blown song. Like he could really help himself.

Outside the bathroom, outside the bedroom, Kurt's leaning back against the wall and he can hear Blaine belting out notes and occasionally missing them and he can't quite breathe properly for grinning like an idiot. He should go and shower and pull on some pants and a top and then go downstairs and maybe find a snack and wait on the couch.

But he really, really doesn't want to.