Chapter Eleven

Warning:  Mature content in this chapter!

February 2015

It was Monday Night Dinner at the loft again, the first since Kurt and Blaine had become Kurt-and-Blaine.  Their dinner party was diminishing in size, sadly.  The old McKinley friends Mercedes, Sam and Artie, and Kurt's bandmate Elliot, had shown as usual and were laughing and talking happily while passing around the mismatched potluck dishes.  But by Rachel's decree Brody, Sebastian, and Santana were no longer included.  Out of loyalty to Santana, Dani was absent, and Kurt had not salvaged even a  cordial friendship out of the wreckage of his breakup with Adam. Though he had no second thoughts about choosing Blaine over Adam, Kurt did regret the way it had happened, and the loss of a friend in the process.   Kurt hoped someday maybe that could change, but for now focused on the positive:  his loyal remaining friends.  Kurt shot a smile at the most special one, his secret new boyfriend, as he took a seat between  Rachel and the boyfriend in question.

“So your birthday is this Thursday.  The big one, 21!” Mercedes said, smiling at him from across the table while she poured a glass of iced tea.  

“Sucks that you're going through a big breakup right before your birthday, man,” Sam said with a sympathetic look, followed by a yelp as Mercedes elbowed him.

“We're supposed to be keeping his mind off that, Sam!” Mercedes hissed.  

Kurt smothered a smile.  “It's okay, Sam.  I'm fine, really.”  Better than that, actually, he thought, fighting the urge to look lovingly at Blaine in front of everyone.  

“Of course it's fine, you still have us!” Mercedes declared.  “And we want to take you out and celebrate.  You're the last one to turn 21 in our little glee gang, so let's do it up big.  Someplace where you can get dressed up, finally have some champagne legally, am I right?”  

Kurt sneaked a furtive look at Blaine, who was studying his plate motionlessly, his lips pressed together and his face carefully composed except for a slight twitch of his cheek that Kurt knew meant he was getting either nervous or upset.

“Actually, I was planning on just staying in that night,” Kurt started, and everyone else at the table, except Blaine, dropped their cutlery with a clamor of protests.

“Kurt!  You have to party on your twenty-first birthday, with some legal ‘social lubrication' yo,” Artie insisted.  “Our treat.”  

“Really, Kurt.  You only turn 21 once.  It's a big deal,” Elliot agreed.  “Don't wuss out on us.”

Kurt knew Blaine had made elaborate plans for his birthday, including ice-skating, a romantic dinner in Manhattan that would probably cost Blaine's spending money for the next month, and winding up with a romantic tour of Central Park by horse-drawn carriage. They had been whispering about the plans through the privacy curtain dividing their rooms late into the night on Saturday and Sunday.  What they hadn't finalized was an alibi to lose the rest of the group.  

He brushed his hand against Blaine's knee lightly, trying to get him to help save the situation, but Blaine only looked up helplessly.  Kurt mumbled, “I … I think I'm going to have to work late that day, so I won't be able to go anywhere … I'll … I'll be too tired - -”

Talking with her mouth full, Rachel cut in, “Don't be silly, Kurt.  You're going out.”  She turned toward him, eyes alight with excitement, and continued:  “I didn't want to ruin the surprise, but I've got a private room booked at the hottest night spot on Broadway-- and Quinn and Tina are coming to town for it.  I invited all your friends from NYADA and Vogue.com, too.  It's settled, you're going out and having some fun.  You've been hanging around this loft like an old fart entirely too much lately and need to get out and see people, especially on your birthday.”

“I don't need a big celebration,” Kurt protested. “Really, Rachel, guys, I--”

“We're not taking no for an answer,” Rachel said, in a tone of voice that clearly conveyed the topic was closed..

His voice quiet, Blaine asked, “I didn't know you were planning a party, Rae.  Can I come along?  I'd like to wish Kurt happy birthday too.”

“Of course!” Kurt said, too enthusiastically, before catching a disapproving look from Rachel.

“The venue is 21 and up, and this is going to be an adult celebration on a school night, so … I'm sorry, honey, no,” Rachel said.  She patted Blaine on the head as she stood up and started clearing dishes.  “We'll have a little dinner and some cake here before we go out, though.  You can wish him happy birthday then.”

The others were standing up and helping clear the table, but Kurt remained sitting next to Blaine.  

“Baby,” he whispered amid the chatter and clattering of dishes.  “Baby, please - -”

“Don't call me that,” Blaine whispered fiercely.   “I'm not a baby.”  He looked  ashamed immediately.  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get cranky,” he murmured, pressing Kurt's hand under the table while cautiously eyeing the others, who were busy cleaning up in the kitchen.  “I … I just was excited about our plans.  But it couldn't have worked, anyway, nobody would have understood if you celebrated just with me.  It's okay, really.  Go out with your friends.  You deserve it.”  He got up from the table and took his plate and Kurt's to the kitchen, leaving Kurt sitting alone at the table and wondering yet again how he could make this work, and what was the point if they couldn't see each other or talk openly or spend time together, or even touch each other in the most innocent of ways? They were under Rachel's watchful eyes at all times, even in their own home.  They hadn't even kissed once since their date on Saturday, which--okay--was only two days ago, but it felt like an eternity somehow.  It was beyond frustrating and pointless and discouraging.  He watched Blaine across the room longingly, stopping only when he noticed Artie looking at him with a suspicious expression.  Kurt sighed irritably, and made up his mind that this situation was not working for him. Not at all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“C'mon, Kurt!”  Rachel screeched, pounding on the bathroom door.  “Everyone's here and we have cake!  What are you doing in there, it's been almost an hour!   We have to leave in ten minutes, what's going on?”

Blaine looked over glumly from his seat crammed between  Elliott and Quinn on the couch.  Rachel had been especially clingy around her “best gay” Kurt today, and Blaine hadn't even gotten to give his boyfriend so much as a kiss for his birthday, let alone give him the special present he had picked or, god forbid, take him on the romantic carriage ride and special dinner in Manhattan that he had planned like an idiot, as if it could actually happen. Now the loft was packed with all the people Rachel had invited, and he had to act like Kurt's little buddy as usual.  He'd have to give Kurt the boring, impersonal gift card to Bloomingdales that he had bought as a decoy gift to open in front of their friends, tucked inside a boring, impersonal greeting card that he had clutched in his hands.  He loved Kurt so much.  He was thrilled that Kurt was his boyfriend.  But having to stay clear of Kurt and act like nothing was happening all the damn time, being deprived of touching him and hugging him now that he'd started … it felt like starving to death and looking at the most tempting food imaginable on a table in front of him, having a taste, and then not being allowed to finish it.  

“Kurt, are you okay in there?” Mercedes asked, coming to stand beside Rachel outside the bathroom door.

“Not really,” Kurt's voice wavered from inside the bathroom.  

Blaine looked up, worried.  Kurt's sick?  On his birthday? Oh no!  He got up and sidled over to the door, standing next to Mercedes.

“Guys … guys, I know you had all this stuff planned, but things are not going well in here,” Kurt moaned. “Trust me, I … I think it's going to be a rough night.   Just - - just go.  Please, this is totally embarrassing - - just go and have fun without me.”  

“Is it your stomach?” Rachel asked.  “Do you need me to stay and take care of you?”

“It's not my stomach … it's much worse than that!” Kurt gasped.  “Please, Rachel, just take everybody out of here.  It's about to get really ugly.  There's nothing anybody can do to help, trust me.  I really want you to go.”

“Okay … if you're really sure? I feel bad leaving you here like this on your birthday.”  Rachel leaned the side of her head against the door, listening.

“It's the kindest thing you can do.  Please, just take everybody with you.  Except Blaine, of course.  Hurry.”

Rachel turned to the group with a sigh. “I guess he's pretty sick, guys.  Let's give him some privacy.”

The group gathered their coats and left,  Blaine shutting the door behind them.  He padded over to the bathroom door and tapped, leaning against it.  “You okay in there?  Is there anything I can do?”

“Did they leave?  All of them?  Did they all get in the elevator?”

Blaine frowned.  “Yeah, they're gone--why - -”

The door opened abruptly and Blaine lost his balance, falling into the arms of a smiling Kurt. Blaine looked up at him in confusion.  Kurt was dressed up to the nines in an expensive gray cashmere sweater and dress pants, his hair impeccable, a healthy glow to his freshly exfoliated skin, and the scent of just-applied cologne lingering around him pleasantly.  “Are you feeling better already, Kurt?  You look … really good.”

“I'm fine.  I was “Acting”! My training is apparently paying off,,” Kurt said, laughing.  “I just wanted them to leave so I could do this.”  Kurt slipped a hand under his chin, tilting it up and leaning down for a kiss, finally.  Blaine savored the taste and feel of Kurt's mouth, and slid his arms up around Kurt's neck.  The kiss intensified and deepened, sending tingling waves of pleasure up and down Blaine's entire body.  Kurt backed him against the bathroom sink, and Blaine promptly hiked himself up onto it, parting his legs and hooking his knees over Kurt's hips to draw him closer.  He smiled when Kurt's breath hitched in response.  

Kurt's lips were traveling down the side of Blaine's neck, and Blaine shivered and moaned, “Kurt”.

Kurt startled and backed away, breathing hard, running his hands restlessly up and down the outside of Blaine's thighs. His voice husky and strained, Kurt cleared his throat and said, “We can go out exactly like we planned.  I called back and got that reservation you made reinstated, and the carriage ride is back on.”

Blaine slapped Kurt lightly on the arm.  “You had to make your own birthday plans?  Why didn't you tell me you were doing this so I could arrange everything?”

“You thought of everything and made the arrangements once.  I wanted to surprise you.”  Kurt smiled proudly, gray-blue eyes sparkling, and all Blaine wanted was to kiss him again.  He hooked his fingers in Kurt's belt loops to stealthily draw him back between his legs.  

Kurt wouldn't move, though, but just leaned over to kiss him gently, his lips soft and warm and firm, keeping his hips back this time. One kiss, then another.  And another, Kurt's hand cupping his cheek, and Blaine whimpered again, his toes curling and his back arching.   He was disappointed when Kurt pulled away again, this time backing to the bathroom doorway. His voice came out panting and strangled-sounding.“Okay, we'd better stop.  Hey, there's all that cake out there.  Want a piece?”

What Blaine wanted a piece of, was definitely not birthday cake.  Blaine wanted Kurt to come back over and make love to him against this sink.  But he had to be good, had to follow Kurt's rules.  He wouldn't even suggest it.  But …

“I … I need a minute in here first.  If you don't mind,” he gasped.  

Kurt nodded, his face red, and agreed, “Yeah … I … know what you mean.  Me too … I - - I'll meet you in the kitchen in ten minutes.”  Blaine leaned around the doorway and watched Kurt run toward his room, unbuckling his belt, whipping it through his belt loops, and letting it fall to the floor with a clatter as he disappeared behind the curtain.  The sound of the bed springs as Kurt fell onto his bed followed.

Blaine groaned, and shut the door bathroom door with a bang while snapping open the button on his own suddenly unbearably tight pants.  He pushed down on the lotion dispenser on the side of the sink with one hand, grabbing a tissue with the other, laying it out neatly on the countertop at the ready.  He paused for a second.  With everyone else ten feet away in the loft at all times, he really didn't get too many opportunities to take care of his “needs” and he felt like was about to die if he didn't do something.  He didn't think he'd make it through the night without coming in his pants if he didn't get the edge off, and after all, this is why they invented masturbation, wasn't it?  Still, he felt a little guilty and weird about blatantly asking for time to do this.  

But not that guilty.

He pulled his the waistband of his underwear down and slid his slicked-up hand along his erection, spreading the lotion over and around, before  hopping up on the bathroom sink, his legs dangling, and leaning back against the mirror.  He started stroking himself rhythmically but quickly, not wanting to prolong this, trying not to make too much noise -- not even breathing too hard.  He was painfully aware that Kurt was in the next room, and might hear him.  He didn't want to embarrass himself.  But it had been days, and Kurt was so hot - - he started squirming with the effort of keeping quiet, shutting his eyes tightly while continuing to stroke harder and faster.  

Then, he heard a muffled moan from the direction of the loft.  He was both exponentially more turned on by the sound, and relieved to know it wasnt just him who was resorting to this.   

He ran his hand up and down faster.  His eyes dropped shut in bliss, only to pop open a second later at the soft but unmistakable squeak of Kurts antique brass headboard creaking back and forth.  Oh god. That meant Kurt was rocking in his bed while jerking off to him. He imagined it, Kurt splayed out, all lean muscle and soft, pale glowing skin, whispering his name, thinking about him.  He forgot to be quiet, whimpering too loudly and gasping for breath as he jerked in time with the sounds from Kurt's bedroom, Kurt's face and voice filling his mind and heart and soul.

This was as close as they could have to getting off together, at least until June and his birthday, the magical date that mattered so much to Kurt. Of course he'd rather be a lot closer to Kurt right now, but he found the mental image of Kurt touching himself frantically in his room a few feet away, while he did the same in here, was surprisingly … effective.  

The sound of the headboard hitting Kurts wall along with another stifled moan sent Blaine over the edge, harder than hed ever done alone or with another boy.  Slumping, he gasped for air, wondering ... what would touching Kurt be like, when it was this intense twenty feet away from him with only the sounds and fantasy of Kurt spurring him on?  He shivered deliciously at the thought, but willed it away; he didnt want to spend the whole night in the bathroom, after all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Blaine yawned and stretched, and headed toward the bathroom scratching his head.  His hair was always so itchy and crunchy if he fell asleep without rinsing out the gel first, like he had last night after Kurt's birthday date.  He thought dreamily about what a perfect night it had been.  Even if he was pretty tired now and had overslept. He tapped on the bathroom door.

“Rae, hurry up!  I have to get into school by 8:00 a.m. and I need a shower!” he called.  The door flew open.  Rachel was in a towel with the lotion bottle in her hand.  

“My beauty routine is all thrown off, Blaine!  I'm almost out of bronzer!”  She held out the bottle and Blaine's eyes bulged in horror.  

“That- that's bronzer?” he asked, tucking his right hand into his pocket.  

“Yes, and super-expensive, and I could've sworn I just refilled it,” Rachel fretted.  “I did a whole leg before I realized.  Im going to be half-and-half.  It looks weird to have just one tan leg, dont you think?"

“Dunno,” Blaine murmured.  “But can I at least use the bathroom a minute?”

“Okay, but don't take long, this is a skincare emergency.”

Blaine shut the door to the bathroom and removed his hand from his pocket.  He winced at the sight of his palm stained George Hamilton mahogany.  His movements slow with dread, he shut his eyes as he lowered his pajama bottoms and boxers, and looked down.  After staring at his now mismatched genitalia for a long, agonized moment, he jumped when Rachel rattled the doorknob.  “Blaine!  Time's up!  I need to get in there and finish my skincare routine!”  

He yanked his pants up and opened the door with his left hand, his right hand firmly in the pocket of his robe.  Kurt was curled up like a cat in the weird low wooden chair in the living room near the kitchen, and Blaine trudged over to steal a quick kiss while Rachel was in the bathroom before proceeding to the kitchen.  Conscious of Kurt's eyes on him, he opened the refrigerator door, took out the orange juice, got down a glass, poured it out and drank it, all completely left-handed.  He was trying to get a piece of bread out for some toast, when Kurt called out from his chair over his coffee cup.  

“Hey.  Who are you supposed to be, Hugh Hefner?  What's with the hand in the robe pocket?  I think that'd be easier with both hands, don't you?”  Kurt's eyes twinkled.  “Unless there's something you're hiding.”

Sighing, Blaine pulled out his hand, and held the deeply tanned palm up in a little wave, and Kurt spluttered a spray of coffee.  “What the hell happened?” he asked, wiping his chin of dripping coffee.

“This is nothing.  You should see what happened, y'know, in Peru.”

“What are you talking about?”  

Blaine gestured below his belt.  “Y'know.  Below the equator.  Where you haven't granted our hands visas to go?  Last night, in the bathroom.  I thought Rachel's bronzer was hand lotion.”

When Kurt wouldn't stop laughing, Blaine grinned and ran over to jump on his lap for a wrestling match marked with silent, suppressed giggles and furtive kisses until the bathroom door opened, and they had to spring apart yet again.  For now.

March 2015

“This is the place,” Elliott announced, pulling Kurt by the arm.  “My favorite music store.  Here's where we'll get your new axe.”  

“Okay,” Kurt laughed, letting himself be dragged into the store.  The new band was going great, except for the fact that they had five lead singers and only two people who really played instruments.  They couldn't afford to keep hiring people to fill in, and if they ever hoped to have their own sound and message, they'd have to start playing their own instruments and writing their own music.  Or so Elliott had insisted.  He had also insisted on teaching Kurt to play the guitar.

As they approached the wall with the electric guitars, a heavily tattooed and extremely serious looking young clerk stepped in front of them.  

Speaking in a monotone, he droned, “You bought a guitar last week, Elliott.  Back for another one so soon?”

“Hey, Beckett.  No, my bandmate here is looking to pick it up.”

Beckett fingered a huge spacer in his ear and looked Kurt up and down, eyes half-lidded and blank as a zombies. “You're the one who put together the Madonna cover band Elliott's in, huh?”

“Guilty!” Kurt smiled, but let it subside when Beckett gave him a disdainful look..

“Elliott's one thing.  I know he can shred,” Beckett said, nodding and fist-bumping Elliott without turning his eyes from Kurt.  “But you seem like more of a tambourine kinda guy.”

“Beckett, c'mon.  He's cool,” Elliott protested.  

“I don't want to sell a guitar to some dude who won't have the commitment.  He'll be back here to return it in 29 days.  The tambourines are over there,” Becket mumbled, pointing listlessly.  “Or maybe a nice triangle. Or both, if youre doing Madonna covers."

“If we can prove he can rock-and-roll, then can he get one?” Elliott said, elbowing Kurt in the side.  Kurt raised an eyebrow at Elliott, wondering where this was headed.

“Sure,” Beckett said.  “Let's hear what he's got.”

“I Believe in a Thing Called Love!“ Elliott yelled to three guitarists in the corner, and Kurt jumped into action with the opening chords.  Fortunately, three years of impromptu musical performances with New Directions had him in good stead.  He loved this song, and he loved a chance to show off and change people's minds about what he could do, so he followed Elliott's lead.  He belted out the song at the top of his lungs, jumped onto displays, and then spotted a stripper pole inexplicably in the middle of the store.  His eyes sparkled with  delight, and he took a running leap, grabbing the pole and flipping upside down to shimmy down it, never losing a beat.  He and Elliott had great musical chemistry, and they used it, both leaping up on the register to face off, mock-grinding with eyes locked on each other, for a big finale.  The customers went wild, and Beckett was rushing over with an electric guitar in each hand for him to inspect.

And then Elliott, apparently caught up in the moment, grabbed Kurt around the waist and kissed him before he could react or stop him.  The crowd went berserk, and Kurt couldn't help laughing, even as he pushed Elliott back, a little annoyed.  But the abrupt  movement of the door over the heads of the cheering crowd caught his eye, and he saw a shiny, gelled dark head of hair flash past the store window as the door swung closed.

“Blaine,” he whispered, horrified.  He jumped down and started pushing his way through the crowd, most of whom were trying to slap him on the back and compliment his performance, and by the time he reached the doorway and looked down the street, he could see Blaine getting into a cab and speeding away.  “Damn it,” he moaned, as Elliott reached his side.

“Kurt - - where are you going?”

“Why'd you kiss me, is more the question!” Kurt shouted.  “What got into you? We're just friends, where do you get off kissing me out of nowhere?”

Elliott frowned.  “I - - I thought we were flirting, Kurt--I got a little caught up in it.  Didn't you feel the chemistry in there?”  

“We were performing! Do you know what you've done?” Kurt snapped, before he realized that no, Elliott had no idea.

“Look, Kurt, I'm sorry if I misread the signals. I honestly thought you were flirting and youd like a kiss.”

“It's all right, I guess it was just a misunderstanding,” Kurt said, rapidly texting Blaine, “it wasn't what it looked like”.  He pressed ‘send', but there was no little message indicating Blaine received the text. He cursed under his breath, and shoved the phone in his pocket.  “I have to go.”  He stepped to the curb, waving his arm frantically for a cab.

Elliott raised an eyebrow.  “Blaine will be fine, Kurt.  I mean, it's really nice of you to be this concerned about his feelings, but he'll get over it.”

Kurt swallowed and turned around, looking steadily at the ground for a moment.  He tried to keep his voice neutral.  “What are you talking about?”

Elliott's kind eyes softened.  “Everybody knows he's got a thing for you.  It's kind of a running joke with your friends, actually.  It's cute.” Kurt winced, as Elliott continued, “But I got the feeling he actually thought he had a shot when you and Adam broke up.  I'm guessing that's why you ran out here when he got upset just now?  Because you must know how he feels.”

Kurt looked up, stricken.  “He was really upset?  Are you sure?  I couldnt see his face."

“I had a better view than you did.  Yeah. He looked pretty upset.”

Kurt cursed again.  “Do you know how much he saw?”

“He was in the store, over in sheet music, when we started singing.  I recommended this place to him the other day, he was looking for a good sheet music store for an audition.  I assume he saw the whole performance.”  

Kurt covered his eyes with both hands.  

“Kurt - -  look, I'm sure it hurt a little, what with the crush he has on you.  But maybe it's for the best?  After all, he has to understand you're going to date.  Even if it's not me or Adam, it's going to be somebody.  You've been living like a monk since Adam broke up with you, but that isn't going to be permanent, not with the way you look.  I don't understand how it's even lasted this long.”

“It's because - - God, Elliott.”  He felt like pulling his hair out.  “I - - I need to talk to somebody.  Can I trust you with a secret?”

“Of course,” Elliott said.  “You're worrying me though.  Is it bad?”

“No.  But -- it's Blaine.  It's not just a crush, and it's not one-sided.  We're dating.  It's strictly non-sexual and secret until he turns 17 in a few months.”

“Oh.”  Elliott looked blank for a moment, and then realization dawned in his eyes.  “Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.”  Kurt sighed and brushed his eyes with his hand.  “Do you think I'm a horrible person?”

Elliott shook his head.  “No.  Of course not.  But I think you're going to have some explaining to do to your boyfriend.  Do you want me to talk to him? Tell him it wasn't your fault?”

“No, I don't think that'll be necessary.“  Kurt put his hand up to hail a cab that was coming up the street, and it pulled over right in front of the store.  “I'll deal with this. I - -”  he stopped short as he opened the car door and Blaine started to step out.  They stared at each other beside the open door, Blaine's eyes red from the traces of tears and his mouth twisting.  

Elliott stepped forward.  “Blaine - - I'm sorry, buddy.  I didn't know that you and Kurt had something together, and - I guess I got carried away in there.  You have a very hot boyfriend, and - -”

“Shut.  Up. Shut up, you...you... glitter rock vampire!”   Blaine shouted, leaping out of the cab and slamming the door shut in a rare fit of temper and rudeness.  He pointed at Elliott, narrowed his eyes, and warned, “Keep your hands to yourself from now on, got it, Twilight?  Kurt's taken!”

“Blaine!”  Kurt stared at Blaine, who was glowering at Elliott with pure malice written over his features.  “Cut it out! He didn't know about us, and - -”

Blaine rounded on Kurt now.  “No, he didn't, but that's your fault!” Blaine was blinking rapidly and had started waving his arms. “Of course he thought you were fair game!  Of course he wants you!  How can I compete with everybody who's going to go after you because they think you're single?  Everybody who's older, and taller, and cooler - -”  Blaine reddened, and turned to get back into the cab, trying to pull the door after himself, but with a quick apologetic look at Elliott, Kurt pushed his way into the cab and slammed the door shut.

He gave the lofts address to the driver, who was watching the whole dramatic scene with open amusement, and the cab pulled away from the curb.

Blaine turned away and stared out the window.  Kurt let the silence extend for a full five minutes, watching Blaine's face.  The anger and rage slowly waned, but were replaced by pain and sadness.  Biting his lip, Kurt put a hand on Blaine's and squeezed it.  “I'm sorry you saw that.  But it was just a performance, I swear.  I didn't want him to kiss me.”

Blaine nodded, still averting his gaze out the window.  

Kurt waited another moment and said softly, "I didn't like what you said about older and taller and cooler.  I don't want all that.  I want you.”

His boyfriend turned a sour look on him.  “Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean.  I think you're wonderful, don't you know that?” Kurt moved closer.  He was relieved when Blaine didn't flinch away.

“But you see my problem, Kurt?  I don't like that everybody thinks you're single.”

“Everybody thinks you're single, except Sebastian, don't they?  And I'm sure there are plenty of other boys at NYADA Prep who are more fun, and younger, and cuter than me, who would love to date you.”

“Just younger.  Nobody's cuter or more fun than you.  You asshole.”  Blaine turned to pout out the window.  “And for your information, I tell everybody at NYADA Prep that I have a boyfriend who goes to another school, so everybody knows I'm taken.  I don't like that you don't do the same.”

“Well, I could hardly tell Elliott some story like that,” Kurt pointed out.  “And I just told him the truth about you, didn't I? Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

Blaine stubbornly continued to look out the window.  

“What's really bothering you?  Are you really that insecure about us?  About yourself, and how I feel about you?” Kurt asked, his heart sinking by the minute.  

Blaine sighed.  “I guess I don't really believe you would choose me over someone like Elliott or Adam.  They're just …”

“Stop.  Okay?  You are my boyfriend.  My perfectly imperfect little package of adorable, hot, smart, talented boyfriend.  The David Burtka to my Neil Patrick Harris.  The David Furnish to my Elton John.”  He slipped his arms around Blaine's waist, pleased that Blaine was offering no resistance.  “And my best friend,” he whispered in Blaine's ear.  “I don't want to be with anybody else but you.”  Blaine turned his head finally, leaning back against the car seat, and gazed into his eyes for a moment, before accepting a tender, languid kiss.  

The car pulled up at their apartment building, and the cab driver turned around.  “This is it guys.  That'll be $15.25.”

Kurt nuzzled the tip of his nose against Blaine's for another moment while fishing in his pocket for a $20 and handing it to the driver.  “Keep the meter running,” he said before leaning in again for another kiss.

April 2015

"Give me your hand."

Blaines eyes were like melting honey in the candlelight. His face looked like an Italian Renaissance sculpture, like David, come to life.  Kurt wanted to look at him forever.  He obediently put his hand in Blaines, mesmerized.

Blaine cleared his throat. "Kurt Hummel, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to my junior prom?"

Kurt blinked.  "Prom? You want me to go to prom with you?"  

So. That explained the reservations at the too-expensive restaurant. And Blaines insistence on dressing up for dinner, even though it had meant leaving the loft separately, with their dress clothes hidden in a bag, and meeting up at the coffee shop down the street to change. It was leadup to a prom proposal. Kurt tried to look enthusiastic.

"Kurt, hear me out, please.  I know youre worried about Rachel finding out about us, and what that would do to her. I am too. But her out-of-town run with Funny Girl starts before then. Well be alone in the loft together. Shell never have to know."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Blaine let go of Kurts hand. "I get it. You dont want to go to some dumb high school prom with your dumb high school boyfriend. Im so stupid to think youd want to--"

"Blaine. Stop. Its not about that. Its just -- prom..."

"What about prom, Kurt?"

Kurt ran a hand through his hair and shut his eyes briefly.  "I just dont have very good associations with prom. The only one I went to in high school ended pretty badly."

Blaines eyes softened. "Well, I can certainly relate. My first dance was a disaster too. But this is different. Its a chance at a normal, romantic high school prom-- for both of us. And since Ill be 17 by then, I was hoping wed follow all the time honored prom traditions."  He slid his hand across the table and covered Kurts smoothly, before raising  Kurts hand to his lips and pressing a suave kiss on the back of it.

Kurts mouth twisted in a stifled laugh. "When you put it that way how can I refuse?"  He hesitated. "Only ..."

"What?" Blaine demanded, still smiling.

"This has been a totally Victorian courtship so far, and weve been religious about the no-naughty-bits rule."  Kurt paused and reached to cup Blaines cheek with his hand. "Are you sure youre ready for full-on après-prom festivities? I mean... the naked ones?"

Blaine coughed and Kurt realized the waitress was standing next to the table holding a small leather folder with the check.

"I assume youre getting this, sir?" She dropped the check in front of Kurt.

Blaine reached for the bill. "Thank you, Jennifer." He handed the bill to her with his debit card and a huge smile.  She left silently to run the card --  and Kurt hoped not to call the police or Child Protective Services.

"Hey Kurt," Blaine piped up, startling him. "Remember those pale blue acid washed skinny jeans you had, your senior year at McKinley?"

"Theres a non sequitur. Sure. The Armani Exchange ones. Why do you ask?"

Blaine picked up his soda and took a lingering sip from the straw with his eyes trained on Kurts mouth. Setting the drink down, he smiled. "Because Ive been ready to take that step with you since the first time I saw you in them. Ive kept my urges to myself because you wanted us to take it slow until I was 17."

Arousal and temptation was spreading through him, especially at the images Blaine's words brought up in his mind, but Kurt just lightly joked, "To yourself, eh?"   

"Any port in a storm. C'mon, Kurt.  You know I'm more than ready.  I'm actually having a hard time not doing you right now in public.”

Kurt chuckled, but shifted in his seat uneasily. "Im just not sure we should even be planning sex while youre still underage --"

Jennifer rematerialized at that unfortunate moment with the check and Blaines card. Kurt felt his face burning while she handed them to Blaine.

Blaine calculated a 20% tip and added it to the receipt. His lip was drawn between his teeth as he focused on the math, and for a moment he looked impossibly young. Kurt made up his mind.

Jennifer took the receipt, smiled at Blaine and frowned again at Kurt, and left, and Kurt took Blaines hand again. "Ill be happy to go to prom with you. But lets not make any big decisions about ... you know what for now, okay? Just enjoy the evening, no pressure?"

"Okay."  Blaine looked like a disappointed child being sent to his room without dessert.  Kurt was half amused and half uncomfortable, as he always was when his usually mature sixteen year old boyfriend showed occasional signs of ... being a typical sixteen year old. Blaine was only proving Kurts point. Kurt was the adult, and he had to set boundaries.  Starting with observing the local laws about underage sex. That was not negotiable, whether Blaine liked it or not.

He pulled on Blaines hand playfully. "Hey, come on. Cheer up.  Lets go to Vogue and check out the vault for our tuxes right now. How about that?"

Blaines sulky expression brightened immediately.  "Deal. Ill arrange everything else, though."

Kurt got up from the table, wondering a little apprehensively what his boyfriend planned to "arrange". Blaine was a Berry through and through, and tended toward wild, over the top schemes and plans.  But since the cloud had passed and good humor and sunshine had been restored, Kurt let it go for the night.

~ * ~

Kurt rolled over in bed and blinked curiously.  His room in the loft was separated from Blaines by a heavy privacy curtain hanging from metal rings along a track on the ceiling. A light was shining over the top of the curtain separating them. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand.  Three oclock.

He sat up wearily, stretching, and heard a muffled sob.  Without thinking, he got of bed and drew the edge of the thick curtain away from the wall to check on his boyfriend.

Blaine was sitting up in bed, in his old-fashioned silk pajamas, his knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them.  He turned his tear stained face toward Kurt in surprise. Scrubbing his face with his sleeve hurriedly,  he whispered, "Did the light wake you? Im sorry."

"Dont be," Kurt said. "Why are you up so late?"

Blaine shrugged.  "Had a dream. I ... dont want to go back to sleep just yet."

"Nightmares can be pretty bad, cant they," Kurt sympathized. He leaned on Blaines dresser from his side, longing to go to Blaine, but worried about Rachel in her nearby room in the tiny loft.

"It wasnt a nightmare. It ... it was a good dream."

"Oh-- I dont understand?"

There was a deep, aching sadness in Blaines smile.  "I dreamed that my dads were alive. And Rachel was ... like she used to be. We were happy. And I told all of them you and I were ..." he blushed.  "Dont freak out now."  He smiled again, a little less sadly.  "I told them you and I were getting married. Dont worry. It was just a dream. I know its way too soon for a wedding."

Kurt confessed, "I sometimes dream about marrying you too. When Im awake. I have our tuxes all picked out in my head."

"Really?"

Kurt nodded. "It may be too early to plan a wedding, but its never too early to dream about it."

Blaines face shone, then fell. "In my dream, my dads and Rachel were so happy. And then I woke up. And real life came back and hit me like a freight train.  Thats why I hate good dreams. Waking up from them is so hard."

Blaine crossed his arms in front of his face, then looked up at Kurt through his clasped hands.  "Are we just another good dream Im gonna wake up from someday, Kurt? Because... Well, since nobody else knows..." Blaines face looked bewildered, "... it doesnt always seem real ... Like its too good to be true. Ive been dreaming about you for so long, it still feels like a dream, even now. And Im scared how itll feel when I wake up from it."

Kurt was supposed to stay out of Blaines arms at night. They were supposed to be careful. They were a secret. It had to stay that way.

But he clicked off the light and slipped past the curtain and into the bed, tucking the blankets in around Blaine before holding him close.  "Were real, honey." He kissed his sweet boys lips tenderly. "As real as it gets. This dream is forever."