The front door slammed and Kurt heard Burt call out that he was home. He smiled encouragingly at Blaine. “He’s really not that bad,” he said, attempting to reassure the boy sitting next to him on the couch, who for some reason looked terrified. Mercedes had returned home for ‘beauty sleep’, shooting Blaine one last probing look before she left, but Blaine nervously fiddled with his shirtsleeves as he asked Kurt if he could stay a little longer. He had said he didn’t feel like going home yet, which Kurt could definitely sympathise with.

“Hey, Dad,” Kurt called. “We’re in here.”

Burt tramped into the living room, smiling widely at Kurt before noticing the boy sitting beside him. “Who’s this?” His eyes were suddenly narrow, flicking between the two boys. Burt’s heart was beating out of chest. This had never happened before.

“Dad, this is Blaine. We met in the grocery store yesterday.”
Blaine stood up and shook Burt’s hand. Kurt tried to repress the surge of jealousy that came with that gesture; he couldn’t envy his own father for being normal.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Hummel.”

Burt frowned at him, but returned the handshake. “You too, kid, even though I still have no idea who you are.”

Blaine laughed, though Kurt could see he was still nervous. “I’m Blaine Anderson, Mr Hummel. I was shopping when I accidentally cut Kurt with the zip of my jacket. I hope you don’t mind, but he told me what he is.” He turned to Kurt, looking at him pleadingly.

“You can trust Blaine, Dad.” Kurt stood up and walked to his father. “It’s okay, we didn’t connect. He has controversial views on faerie rights.” He shot Blaine a grin, which was returned.

Burt chuckled and clapped his son on the shoulder. “Is that so? Believe in equality, do you, Blaine?”

Perhaps it was due to Mercedes’ reaction to him earlier, but Blaine had not been expecting Burt Hummel to be as welcoming as he was. A swift nod from Blaine in reply was all that was required to have him accepted by the man. Blaine didn’t know if Burt was still testing him as the conversation continued, but he found himself more relaxed than he could have ever anticipated. When Kurt’s stepmother returned, Blaine received the same warm treatment from her and was still not sure what to make of it. There was only one uncomfortable point in the evening and Blaine knew that was self-imposed.

“Beautiful boy like you must have girlfriend, Blaine,” Carole said as she placed a plate of food in front of him, ignoring Blaine’s protests that he had already eaten.
He paused, his fork hovering above his plate and glanced swiftly at the face of each person. All of them were still smiling at him. “Um, no. No…I’m gay.”

“Ah,” Carole said, her grin only widening. “Boyfriend, then?”

Blaine’s head was reeling. Was this woman real? Kurt had said she had accepted that he was a faerie without hesitation, but did that really extend to Blaine? He shook his head and took a bite of food to hide his confusion. He felt Kurt watching him and let their eyes meet.

“If I were less faerie and more Finn, I’d fist-bump you and say ‘join the club,’” Kurt said with a shy grin. “But that’s not going to happen. Just know that I do it in spirit.”

Other than that moment, Blaine couldn’t imagine an evening where he felt more comfortable. Even Finn gave him a high five when he returned home, once he had passed the stage of glaring at him because he had no idea who he was. Eventually, though, Blaine knew he had to go home, no matter how much he’d rather stay where he was.

“Your family are so nice,” Blaine said as he leaned against the frame of the front door.

Kurt shrugged. “I love them. But I wouldn’t know.” He gestured to himself vaguely, a twisted smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes at all. “No experience.”

“Trust me,” Blaine replied, looking at his feet. “They’re better than most.”

“Blaine, what do you—?”

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” Blaine straightened up and plastered a grin on his face.

“I have your number, so be prepared for me to text you.”

Kurt laughed, but he was still searching the other boy’s face, clearly aware that the conversation had been purposefully diverted. Blaine wasn’t sure how a boy who had been locked away from the world could be so perceptive. Although he could have stayed with Kurt for many hours longer, Blaine didn’t want to delve into discussions of his own problems at the moment, so he said goodbye quickly.

Kurt watched Blaine jog away from the door with a feeling of dissatisfaction settling in his chest. The Blaine who had just left his house was not the same Blaine that had entered it. This one closed off and not the kind of boy who would cry in front of someone he barely knew. Before Kurt could think more on it, he received a text from Blaine.

I’m only at my first red light and I can tell this drive is going to be boring. Entertain me? (I told you to be prepared.) –Blaine

---

The next few weeks passed faster than any in Kurt’s life. He tutored himself with greater effort, knowing that when he reached the end of his self-imposed school timetable each day, he could text Blaine, or call him, or invite him over. Kurt was rejoicing in having another friend, although he sometimes felt guilty for not talking to Mercedes perhaps as much as he should.

The boys quickly reached the point where they could say anything to each other, from the mundane I’m bored. Geometry is boring. Kill me? –Blaine to the deeper discussions on faerie rights and homophobia. Blaine had been steadily informing Kurt of all the views on being gay that there were in the world and all the ways people reacted to it. In return, Kurt told him more about being what he was. They talked about the shaky laws of the American government, followed by none, banning faeries from being kept in captivity for sexual purposes. Every member of the police force turned a blind eye; politicians were so often the ones with the faeries in their houses that they would never try to enforce the law; the public were deluded, often uncaring about the way faeries were treated because it didn’t affect their lives. There had been whispers in the government of the law being overturned completely, but there had so far been nothing more than that. Kurt hoped there never would be, because that would quash all hope of equality for at least the next decade.

Blaine visiting the house became a regular occurrence. He was there every weekend and often after school. He would rave about the new song The Warblers were doing or bang his head against Kurt’s wall as he moaned about homework. He would look at Kurt with wide, tear-filled eyes as more was revealed to him about the world he never knew. He would reach out to hug Kurt, or hold his hand, or pat him on the back because that was just the way Blaine connected to people, but he would always remember with a gasp and draw back. After a little over a week, he stopped forgetting not to touch.

That infuriated Kurt. He wanted – no, needed to touch Blaine. He wanted to be able to let their friendship progress as it normally would, bumping shoulders together, swatting each other playfully, hugging when they wanted to. Kurt wanted all of those things and even though Mercedes was always there with open arms, he wanted them from Blaine.

Three weeks after the two met, Kurt was indulging in some therapeutic baking in an attempt to drive thoughts of other faeries out of his head. There was a tap on the kitchen door and he turned to find Blaine in the doorway, grinning in a way Kurt could only describe as ‘smug’.

“Hey,” said the short boy, walking into the room and peering over Kurt’s shoulder. “Muffins?” he asked, eyebrows raised in the direction of Kurt’s baking.

Kurt rolled his eyes and swatted Blaine’s arm instinctively. His friend stiffened and Kurt, realising what he had done, pulled his hand back sharply. After a couple of seconds, they both let out breaths they had been unaware of holding. They hadn’t touched skin. Nothing had happened.

“No,” Kurt replied, carrying on as though there had been no break in the conversation. “Cupcakes, Blaine. You are so clueless, sometimes.”

“Hey,” he said, pretending to look hurt while picking up a whisk and gesturing at Kurt with it. “I read Vogue obsessively, I’m in love with Patti and Barbra, and don’t even get me started on Broadway. I have enough stereotypical gay things in my life, thank you.”

“Oh?” Kurt raised an eyebrow. “So this is a ‘who’s gayer’ game, now?”

“Only if you want it to be,” Blaine said, sticking his tongue out and waving the whisk in front of Kurt’s face. Kurt reached out to grab it, but Blaine jumped away, expression suddenly serious. Kurt dropped his hand at once. He had to stop being so careless; he and Blaine had now had two near-contact experiences in the past minute.

“Well,” he said, plastering a smile on his face that he knew Blaine could see right through. “I will always win, because I’m much more of a faerie than you.”

Blaine would normally have laughed, but it was too soon after their hands had almost touched, and he only managed to twitch the corners of his mouth. Kurt turned back to his cupcakes, trying to get away from the awkwardness that had descended.

“About that,” Blaine said as Kurt carried the tray to the oven. “That’s actually why I’m here.”

Kurt didn’t react until the cupcakes were safely in the oven. Then he turned towards Blaine and leaned against the counter, a questioning look on his face.

Blaine did grin then, and he reached into the pocket of his jacket, from which he pulled two pairs of gloves.

“Are those for me?” Kurt asked, trying not to laugh. “Because I have a lot of gloves, Blaine.”

“I know,” the other boy replied, still smiling. “These are more symbolic than fashionable. I don’t know why we didn’t think of this before.” He held one of the pairs out to Kurt. “Put them on.”

Kurt took the gloves with a frown, although he was pleased to realise Blaine had at least got him ones made of natural fibres. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Blaine said, already slipping his hands into his own pair.

Sometimes, Kurt wondered if Blaine was actually crazy. He did put the gloves on, though, and looked up at the other boy expectantly. “Now what?”

“You are so clueless, sometimes,” Blaine teased, mimicking Kurt’s earlier statement, causing the other boy to roll his eyes. Kurt became more serious when he realised how nervous Blaine looked. “Hold out your hand,” Blaine said, his voice much quieter.

Kurt stopped leaning against the counter and shifted to stand directly in front of his friend. He raised one hand in front of him, still unsure what was about to happen. When Blain began to lift his own hand, however, something clicked in Kurt’s head. He caught Blaine’s eye and a small smile crept across his face. Blaine’s nervousness diminished drastically when he grinned in return. Their hands paused in the air, an inch or two apart, and both boys took a deep breath before pressing their palms, protected by their gloves, against each other.

Kurt let out a shaky laugh and pressed his fingers in the gap between Blaine’s. Blaine wrapped his over Kurt’s, each resting in a dip between Kurt’s knuckles.

“We’re holding hands.” Kurt was smiling more than he had in years, and Blaine was doing just the same.

“That we are.”

They did not let go of each other’s hands the whole afternoon, even when Kurt took the cupcakes out of the oven. Getting them out of the tray one-handed caused all number of issues, but every time Blaine tried to pull back so Kurt would have both hands free, Kurt only gripped harder. They started using their joined hands as though they were one, opening the cupboard together, stirring water into the icing sugar while both holding the spoon, and even trying to spread it on a couple of cupcakes together before giving up because they were just getting icing everywhere. They had started off with Kurt’s right hand holding Blaine’s left, but Kurt, who was doing most of the icing due to his superior skill, decided he needed his most dextrous hand. He took Blaine’s other hand, so both their hands were joined between them, before dropping Blaine’s left and holding onto his right. He turned them around until he was standing to Blaine’s right and looked at Blaine with triumph until he realised Blaine was laughing at him. He just stuck his tongue out and continued to ice cupcakes.

When Burt came home from the garage, he found them on the couch, watching Project Runway. Their gloved hands were joined between them and they were eating cupcakes with their other ones. Burt laughed and clapped Blaine on the shoulder to show his appreciation for what the boy had done before heading into the kitchen to grab a cupcake for himself.

Evening came too quickly for the boys, and soon they were standing by the front door, Kurt inside, Blaine outside, trying to make themselves let go.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” Kurt hoped he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt.

He didn’t have to worry, because Blaine was looking at him with that soft expression that made Kurt hope they’d stay friends forever. “Of course.” He paused and worried his bottom lip with his teeth before continuing. “I wish I could hug you.”

Kurt pressed his lips together, willing himself not to cry. “I know. Me too.”

Blaine sighed. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Kurt said with a nod. They kept their eyes locked for one more second, then pulled their hands apart. Kurt hadn’t realised how cold his fingers would be.
Blaine finally turned away and began to head towards his car. Kurt closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. He traced the index finger of his right hand around the edges of the fingers of his left, still wearing his gloves. For once, Kurt didn’t care that they weren’t fashionable. As Blaine had said, they were symbolic, and to Kurt that made them more important than anything ever created by Marc Jacobs.