Kurt opened his eyes leisurely the next morning, in no hurry to get out of bed yet. He was still feeling the afterglow of his dream, and he wanted to enjoy it for a little while longer before Carson woke up. It had been a really wonderful dream. He couldn’t remember every detail, but what he could recall was hot and exciting and just made him feel so good. Which was kind of weird, since he was still pretty squeamish about all things sex, but he supposed that maybe Carson was the only exception.

Take THAT, Santana, he thought. On the other hand, he also felt kind of down and depressed, since it had been only a dream. If only dreams were real. It had felt real, but then, his dreams usually did. He was a very vivid dreamer. He hoped he hadn’t moaned out loud in his sleep or anything, like Carson did whenever he had one of…well…one of those dreams. Kurt blushed and tried not to think about how hot it was when Carson had dreams like that, even if they were probably about Santana.

He felt oddly cold, and burrowed further back onto the other side of the bed, seeking the warmth of Carson’s body that was usually there to greet him. There wasn’t anything there this time, though. Kurt turned himself around to look and was faced with an empty bed. Carson was gone.

“Carson?” he murmured, sitting up and looking around the room in confusion. It was rare for Carson to get up before he did, especially now that they only got weekends together. Maybe he got up early to write, he thought. Poor thing works so hard on that paper. People should appreciate him way more than they do.

A sticky, uncomfortable feeling in his pants suddenly came to his attention, and he groaned as he realized that his dream must have been more vivid than he thought. Good thing I sleep facing away from Carson. At least Carson wasn’t there at the moment, which Kurt suddenly became extremely grateful for as he got up and rushed into the bathroom, planning to strip his soiled clothes off and shower. He didn’t need to face his twin with come-stained pants.

He wasn’t expecting to see Carson in there, but there stood his twin in front of the mirror, fully dressed and dabbing something onto his neck. He caught Kurt’s eye in the mirror, an odd expression crossing his face.

“Morning,” he said, a flustered smile spreading across his face. “I, um…I thought you’d sleep for a little longer. I got up early. I had some stuff to write for the paper, so…”

“That’s what I thought,” said Kurt, forgetting about his pants as his eyes wandered over to the mysterious something in Carson’s hand that he had been putting on his skin. It was the concealer stick Kurt had given him after New Year’s, when both of them had been covered in hickeys from Santana’s party. Why was he using it now? What was he covering up?

“Since when do you use concealer?” he asked. Way to be subtle, Kurt.

“Oh, um…I…uh…acne,” said Carson, capping the stick of makeup and tossing it in a drawer under the sink. “Yeah, huge pimple. Really distracting. I thought I’d try covering it up.”

“Oh,” said Kurt, not believing him for a second. Carson wasn’t the type of person who gave a damn about his skin or what people thought about it. “Well, I hope you washed the skin first before you put the makeup on, or the acne will just get worse.”

“Right,” said Carson, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll, uh…I’ll keep that in mind next time.” There was a beat of silence, and then he spoke again. “I’m sorry, did you need to use the bathroom?”

Kurt suddenly remembered his soiled pants and flushed, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I was gonna shower real fast, and then I have to do my face.”

“Right, yes. Well, I’ll just…I’ll leave you to that,” Carson said, his voice trailing off slightly as Kurt stripped off his shirt. “I…I’ll just go write some more, and then we can do something when you’re ready.”

“Ok,” said Kurt, breathing a sigh of relief as Carson left, shutting the door behind him. At least his twin hadn’t noticed his pants. He finished undressing and quickly got into the shower, pondering the mystery of Carson using makeup while he washed his hair. He definitely didn’t believe that pimple story. Carson had to be hiding something else. But what, though? It had to be something he didn’t want Kurt to know about, enough to try to lie. Carson always told him everything.

Not everything, Kurt reminded himself. He still hasn’t actually told you that he likes Santana. You figured that out on your own. The thought of Santana sent an icy cold feeling into the pit of Kurt’s stomach. Carson’s words at the Lima Bean the previous day echoed through Kurt’s brain.

“She popped by the journalism classroom today,” he had said. He had been alone with her, clearly. What if Carson was hiding something that he didn’t want Kurt to see because he thought Kurt didn’t know about his crush on her? Something like a hickey? Kurt hadn’t noticed anything on Carson’s neck yesterday, but then he hadn’t really been paying attention in the middle of all the Blaine and Rachel stuff. And Carson had probably been wearing concealer then, too.

Santana, I swear to a god I don’t even believe in, you had better stay away from him or so help me, I will not be afraid to MAKE you stay away, thought Kurt fiercely. I’m familiar with your track record, and you will NOT hurt my brother.

********

Carson hurried out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him as he leaned against it, letting out a huge breath. That had been a close call. He had thought he’d have enough time before Kurt got up to cover up all the hickeys that had resulted from Kurt’s dream, but he had been wrong, clearly. There were a lot of hickeys. Kurt had really done a number on him. Carson wasn’t sure whether to be scared or turned on at the thought of what Kurt could do to him while fully awake and aware of his actions if he got that into it while he was asleep. He really hoped that Kurt believed the pimple story, because he was not prepared for him to discover those marks and start asking questions. What the hell was Carson supposed to say? He couldn’t tell him the truth. Not only would it be awkward as hell, poor Kurt would probably die of embarrassment. Carson couldn’t put him through that.

Getting those hickeys was fun, though. Even if he was thinking about that gel haired freak, it was still hot, and it felt SO good. Kurt would make such a fantastic lover, and….oh, fuck, Carson, STOP THAT.

He heard the shower stop in the bathroom and quickly pulled out his laptop, sliding his glasses on as he sat on the bedroom sofa and trying to look like he had been writing the whole time. The bathroom door opened and Kurt emerged, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist as he headed for his underwear drawer, and fuck he looked good. Why did he have to wear clothes all the time, again? Clothes were stupid.

Because you wouldn’t want him being ogled by all the perverts who probably go to that Dalton Academy, thought Carson, especially not Munchkin Boy. Oh god, I have got to stop staring before Kurt notices. He focused his attention on the completely blank document he had open on the screen and tried his best not to stare at Kurt.

“What are you working on?” asked Kurt casually, rooting through his half of the closet (which was actually more like his eighty percent of the closet, since he owned way more clothes than Carson did).

“Um…I’m, uh…” Carson stammered, making the mistake of looking up at Kurt, who was wearing the tight, white boxer briefs that always got Carson flustered. All coherent thought went right out the window. “Um…I’m researching for…something,” he finished lamely, tugging at the neckline of his T-shirt. It had suddenly gotten a lot hotter in the room. Or, at least, it felt like it had. Goddamn, that ass!

“Sounds interesting,” Kurt teased, putting on the clothes he had chosen and turning to look at him. A weird look crossed over his face. “What’s that?” he asked.

“What’s what?” asked Carson, confused.

“That,” replied Kurt, crossing over to him and pointing in the direction of Carson’s chest. “That…that bruise,” he said, his voice cracking a little.

Carson looked down and instantly felt his stomach fall as he saw what Kurt was pointing at. Apparently, he had forgotten to completely cover a particularly angry looking hickey on the hollow of his throat, where it had been hidden beneath the neckline of his shirt. Now it was exposed, since Carson had pulled the shirt down without thinking, and there really was no mistaking it for anything other than what it was.

Not that he wasn’t going to try to pass it off, though.

“Oh, that,” he said nervously. “I…uh…I…I accidentally whacked myself there yesterday with…um…my seatbelt,” he said in a rush, hoping that Kurt would just accept it and drop it.

“Your seatbelt,” repeated Kurt, not even phrasing it as a question. “That looks really bad. How the hell did that even happen?”

“Oh, you know…you know how distracted I get when I’m excited about…about seeing you for the weekend,” said Carson, his voice growing smaller toward the end of that sentence as Kurt reached out and lightly brushed his fingers over the bruise, causing Carson to shiver a little.

“Looks painful,” Kurt murmured. “Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice sharp.

Carson shook his head. “No, not really.” No, actually it turns me on quite a bit because you gave it to me.

Kurt sat beside him and leaned his head down, placing a soft kiss right over the hickey, and it took everything Carson had in him not to moan at the contact.

“There,” he said. “I’ve kissed it better, just in case.” He gave Carson a small smile. “I told Mercedes we could go to the mall today after breakfast. Are you coming with?”

Carson nodded eagerly, happy that the conversation about his hickey was over. Maybe Kurt would just forget all about it. Yeah, right. Kurt never forgets anything. He has the memory of an elephant, and even if he didn’t, he’s not going to forget something like this.

“Yeah…yeah, of course,” he said.

“Great,” said Kurt, patting him lightly on the cheek and going to fix his hair. Carson looked down at his laptop, his eyes unfocused as he struggled to remain calm.

Please don’t let him bring it up again, please.

********

Kurt didn’t bring it up again, but Carson noticed him staring at his neck and throat an awful lot for the entire duration of the weekend with the oddest expression on his face. Like a mixture of sadness and something else Carson couldn’t quite identify. Carson was just happy that he wasn’t having to talk about it anymore. He was so not ready for that awkward conversation.

They went to the mall with Mercedes on Saturday as promised. Carson spent a great deal of time sitting bored out of his mind outside various store dressing rooms, waiting as Kurt tried on outfit after outfit and ultimately deciding on none of them, despite both Carson and Mercedes insisting that every outfit looked fantastic on him.

Thankfully, Finn had gone to spend Saturday night at Puck’s house, and Burt and Carole were out for the evening as well, so it was just Carson and Kurt alone in the house for most of the night. Carson always liked those times best, when he and Kurt could just be together, and there was absolutely nothing to distract them or interrupt them. Kurt suggested a movie and Carson agreed, not really caring what they watched as long as he got to cuddle up with Kurt on the couch. Kurt decided on Mamma Mia. Carson knew he chose that one because he liked to hear Carson’s snarky commentary, no matter how much he pretended to protest.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Pop it in.” Kurt smiled and set up the DVD before settling himself on the living room couch beside Carson, curling up with his head in his lap as the movie began. And Carson wasn’t about to skimp on the snark.

“This movie makes no sense,” he said about thirty minutes in. “Sophie would have been born in the 1980s. Why do all four parents dress like hippies from the 60s in the flashbacks?”

“It’s a movie, Carson,” said Kurt, a smile in his voice despite the fact that Carson could tell he was trying to sound exasperated. “Just go with it. Suspend your disbelief.”

“I can’t,” said Carson, stroking his fingers through Kurt’s hair. He heard Kurt let out a happy sigh. “And how come none of these guys even suspect that they might be her dad? I can’t even. That would be the first thing I would ask if I was invited to the wedding of the daughter of an old girlfriend, and the daughter was suspiciously old enough to have been conceived right around the time we dated. What the hell.”

He kept up a steady stream of commentary until the movie reached the point where Donna sang “Slipping Through My Fingers.” Then he couldn’t help but get very quiet. He’d never actually stopped to consider the lyrics before, but now they were really hitting home for him, considering how much time Kurt spent away from him, whether away at Dalton or with Blaine. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying a little at the line “Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time.”

I do wish that, he thought, looking down at Kurt in his lap, who was humming the song under his breath. I wish I could just keep you with me forever, Kurtsie. I know that I can’t, and it kills me.

“What’s wrong?” Kurt asked, turning his head and looking up at Carson from under his long lashes. “I haven’t heard a sarcastic comment from you in like five minutes.”

Carson mentally shook himself and smiled down at him. “I’m sorry. I guess I was distracted by the probability that Donna was still living with her mother at forty when she got knocked up with Sophie.”

Kurt snorted and batted weakly at Carson’s arm. “You’re too much.”

“I know,” said Carson. “But you love it.”

Kurt sighed. “Yep. I do.”

********

“Demonstration,” Ms. Holiday was saying as she stood in front of Carson and twenty other students, most of whom looked either terrified or confused. “This is a condom,” she said, holding one up for emphasis, “Which can help prevent the spread of HIV, which can lead to AIDS, and it also prevents pregnancy.” She smiled and held up a cucumber in her other hand. Carson found himself staring at it thoughtfully.

Wait, was Kurt about that big the other night? I mean, he felt pretty huge. I don’t think I’m quite that big when I’m hard, but I would say I’m actually pretty close, and since we’re twins he should be just as big, right?

“Wait, cucumbers can give you AIDS?” Finn asked stupidly, snapping Carson out of his thoughts. He suddenly realized he’d been busy thinking about Kurt’s dick in the middle of class (granted, a sex-ed class, but still) and felt his face flush. Good thing Kurt wasn’t there, or else Carson had a feeling his entire face would be fire engine red instead of just slightly warm.

“Seriously?” asked Mercedes. “Because I just had them on my salad.”

Carson sighed and shook his head in disbelief. “Are you both really that stupid?” he asked. “For fuck’s sake, the cucumber is supposed to help us learn how to put on the condom, it does NOT give you diseases. How the hell did half of you people even get this far into high school?”

“I took the hallway,” said Brittany quietly from the back of the class. Carson rolled his eyes. Ms. Holiday told everyone to pair up and practice their condom applying technique, and as if Carson wasn’t flustered and irritated enough by this class, he wound up paired with Finn of all people.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Finn complained, repeatedly trying and failing to roll the condom onto their cucumber while Carson held the vegetable steady and glared at him. “Santana put the condom on me when we did it.”

“Ok, eew,” said Carson, trying desperately to block out the absolutely disgusting mental image of Finn having sex. “Please don’t talk about your intimate encounters around me when I have no Pepto Bismol handy, ok, Frankenteen?”

Finn shrugged and grabbed another condom, having managed to somehow puncture the first one. How he managed this, Carson had no idea, and he didn’t want to dwell on it. Finn frowned as he struggled with the foil wrapper.

“I can’t open it, dude,” he said.

Carson rolled his eyes so far back he was worried they’d stay that way permanently. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Here, give me the damn condom. You hold the cucumber.” He grabbed it from Finn and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth, taking out the condom and unrolling the latex onto the cucumber perfectly in all of five seconds.

“Wow,” said Finn. “You’re good at that.”

I am, huh? thought Carson, feeling more than a little proud. Kurt would be proud of me….oh, shit…don’t think about Kurt and condoms, Carson. Your dick doesn’t know it’s not at home in bed, so just….just stop.

He couldn’t wait for that class to be over.

********

It had been quite a long week for Kurt. Ever since he and Blaine had run into Coach Sylvester at the Lima Bean (actually, ever since she deliberately stalked them to the Lima Bean) and told them that New Directions was trying to make their performance sexy for Regionals, Blaine had become obsessed with having the Warblers do the same thing. So obsessed, in fact, that he had made them all practice performing Neon Trees’ “Animal” every free moment they had all week.

And now Kurt found himself standing with the rest of the Warblers in some kind of weird warehouse deep in the bowels of Dalton that he hadn’t even known existed, facing a crowd of girls from Dalton’s sister school and preparing to perform the song as a semi-duet with Blaine in front of them. And it had to be sexy.

How am I going to pull THAT off? he thought. I guess it doesn’t really matter. Their attention is probably going to be focused on Blaine, anyway. I mean, who could blame them? He’s so hot.

“I would like to welcome the ladies of our sister school, Crawford Country Day,” Blaine was saying. “As you know, the Warblers are competing in our show choir’s regionals competition next week. So, what we’re going for here today, ladies, is something a little…a little sexy. But we need your input.”

That’s what I’m worried about, thought Kurt.

“Are we scream worthy?” Blaine continued, instructing the girls on what to look for. “Do we make your knees turn to jelly? So, without further ado, hang on to your bobby socks, girls. ‘Cause we’re about to rock your world.”

He actually has a really excellent way with words, marveled Kurt as the music started and the group launched into the performance they had been blocking all week. Once Kurt got into it, he wasn’t sure what he had been so worried about. He thought he’d done a decent enough job being sexy, even if most of the screaming from the girls was for Blaine. At least they were screaming. That was something.

“Call us,” said two girls who straggled behind after the performance, handing Blaine folded pieces of paper that Kurt assumed contained phone numbers. Kurt was perched on one of the steps they had used to perform on, running a comb through his hair. The dancing and the gallivanting through the bubbles the Warblers had dumped into the air had messed up his hair a bit.

“Sweet,” said Blaine, taking the papers from the girls, “but not on your team.” Kurt grinned to himself. At least we’ve established that for certain thanks to Rachel. The girls exchanged disappointed looks and left .

“Are you ok?” Blaine asked as he walked toward Kurt. “You kept making those weird faces the whole song.”

Kurt stopped mid-comb and looked up at him in surprise. “Those weren’t weird faces. Those were my sexy faces,” he said, confused. What was Blaine talking about? He hadn’t thought his faces were that bad.

“It just looked like you were having gas pains or something,” said Blaine.

What? Oh crap, were they REALLY that bad? They must have been. Blaine wouldn’t say they were if they weren’t. He’s always been honest with me before.

“Great,” Kurt said, now thoroughly discouraged. “How are we supposed to get up on stage at Regionals and sell sexy to the judges when I have as much sexual appeal and knowledge as a baby penguin?” Well, maybe that was pushing it a little too far. He knew some things about sex. He had experimented with watching dirty movies on the internet (even if he quickly grew uncomfortable and always closed them off before Carson could see). And speaking of Carson, there were those dreams….

Clearly, though, he didn’t know as much about it as he thought he did, or else maybe his performance would have been a little sexier.

“We’ll figure something out,” replied Blaine.

See? There you go. He didn’t deny my lack of sexual appeal. God, WHY ME?

The solution Blaine came up with was to come over to help him practice his sexy faces. Dalton had a three day weekend while McKinley didn’t, and Kurt had forgotten to remind his dad or Carson about it. He’d been about to call him on Thursday afternoon and ask if he could pick him up, but Blaine had come up to him and offered to drive him instead.

“And maybe I could stay awhile and we can work on how to get you to sell sexy,” Blaine had added, which Kurt had no idea how to respond to.

“Um…sure,” he’d said at last, thanking his lucky stars that Carson had the Writers’ Club on Thursdays and would be visiting with Grandma afterwards. Perhaps Kurt could have Blaine already gone by the time Carson got home. Otherwise he would be tasked with explaining to his twin that Blaine was only helping him learn how to be sexy. Kurt had a feeling that would go over about as well with Carson as the initial news of their father’s relationship with Carole Hudson had.

So now he was in his and Carson’s bedroom alone with Blaine, the both of them sitting in front of Kurt’s full length mirror as the shorter boy tried coaching him through a series of sexy situations to convey through his facial expressions. And it was awkward as hell. Kurt was really wishing that he’d just said no to the whole thing and called Carson to bring him home.

“Alright, so, give me sensual. But don’t make fun of it. Like, really try,” said Blaine. Kurt sighed inwardly and did his best.

“Ok, now give me sultry,” said Blaine. Again, Kurt did his best.

“Um, Kurt, they’re all sort of looking the same,” said Blaine. Kurt snapped.

“That’s because the face I’m actually doing is uncomfortable,” he said, getting up and beginning to pace the room. “This is pointless, Blaine. I don’t know how to be sexy because I don’t know the first thing about sex.” Except for what I’ve dreamed about doing with my brother, and what I’ve ACTUALLY done with him in a certain linen closet, but you SO don’t need to know that, oh god.

“Kurt, you’re blushing,” said Blaine, a wide smile crossing his face. Ugh, of course I am. What else is new?

“I’ve tried watching those movies,” said Kurt, wondering why the hell he was saying any of this to Blaine at all. “But I just get horribly depressed and I think about how they were all kids once, and they all have mothers, and god, what would their mothers think, and why would you get that tattoo there?”  Ok, Kurt, STOP before you embarrass yourself any further.

“Then maybe we should have a conversation about it,” replied Blaine, crossing his legs in front of him. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

What he knows? Oh god, no. NO. I don’t think I can handle that. I cannot handle listening to him talk about sex, or possibly how experienced he is. I’ll die of embarrassment.

“I don’t…I don’t want to know the graphic details,” said Kurt. “I like romance. That’s why I like Broadway musicals. Because the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets.” Ok, so maybe that wasn’t entirely true. He did like romance. He liked it a lot, and he wanted it for himself. And he did like the simplistic romantic style of a good musical, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t open to learning about sex. Actually, he did kind of want to learn about it. His dreams about Carson (and watching Carson have dreams of his own, not to mention making out in Santana’s closet) had definitely sparked his curiosity. So yes. Yes, he wanted to learn.

But not today. And not from Blaine. Especially not when he knew Blaine would be thinking the whole time about how lame and inexperienced Kurt was.

“Kurt, you’re gonna have to learn about it someday,” said Blaine quietly.

“Well, not today,” said Kurt, suddenly even more uncomfortable than he had been before. “I think I’ve learned quite enough for today, thank you. I think you should leave.”

Blaine shrugged and got up, grabbing his bag off the bed and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in school on Monday, then,” he said, giving Kurt a tight smile. Kurt nodded, and Blaine made his way out the door, almost running straight into Carson as he did so.

Crap.

“Why Brandon, what a surprise. You’re leaving, I trust?” Carson said in an overly fake, cheerful voice as he looked from Blaine to Kurt, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Um…yeah,” said Blaine, ducking out of the room as fast as he could. Carson rolled his eyes as he watched him go, and then turned to Kurt.

“Why didn’t you remind me you had a three day weekend?” Carson asked, setting his bag down and wrapping Kurt in a hug. “I would have come to get you.”

“I forgot,” said Kurt, hugging him back. “And Blaine offered to drive me, so I figured it was easier than bothering you.”

Carson let go of him and gave him a long look. “Ok, second question, what was Baxter doing in our bedroom alone with you when there’s no one home?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Oh, Carson, it wasn’t anything,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “He was just…um…helping me with something.”

“Oh?” Carson said, raising one eyebrow and re-crossing his arms. “Helping you with what, may I ask?”

“Just…stuff,” said Kurt, not sure what else to say. Carson’s raised eyebrow expression didn’t change. Kurt sighed and gave in.

“The Warblers are trying to put together a sexy number to wow the judges at Regionals, and Blaine was helping me practice my sexy faces,” he said in a rush.

“He was doing WHAT?” asked Carson, looking horrified. “Oh, I am so going to kill him. I knew he was only trying to take advantage of you. Did he try anything? Because if he did, I-“

“God, Carson, no, he didn’t,” said Kurt, exasperated. “He really was helping me practice. Apparently I needed it. When we performed our number for a bunch of girls yesterday, he said my faces looked like I had gas.”

Carson’s expression darkened and he sat down on the bed. “He said what?” he asked, sounding dangerous. “Is he blind? I can’t believe he would say that to you. Well, actually, yes I can. He’s an idiot.”

Kurt nodded. “He was totally right, though, Carson. The faces I was making were just awful, I could tell.”

“Bullshit,” said Carson sharply. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me the faces you were making,” said Carson, his tone softening. “There’s no way they can be as bad as you’re thinking.”

Kurt shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve been embarrassed enough for one day.”

Carson looked wounded. “Oh, Kurtsie, there’s no need to be embarrassed. I guarantee you that your little friend doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Just…just show me for a minute, ok? There’s no one here but us, and you know I would never make fun of you or make you feel bad.”

Kurt bit his lip, hesitating. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Carson would be honest with him. He would.

“Well,” he said slowly, thinking it over. “Ok, but….but you have to promise not to laugh at me, and you have to tell me the truth. If the faces are really that bad, I want you to tell me.”

Carson smiled and reached out for Kurt’s hand, taking it in his own. “Would I ever laugh at you?”

Kurt shook his head. “No.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. And I promise to be completely honest with you,” said Carson, making a “cross my heart and hope to die” gesture. “I seriously think Billy was being a moron and you have nothing to worry about.”

Kurt nodded and sat back down across from his mirror where he had been earlier with Blaine. Carson got off the bed and sat down beside him, hugging his knees and waiting expectantly.

“Go on, Kurtsie,” he said encouragingly. “Show me.”

Kurt took a deep breath and nodded. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. It was easier now than it had been with Blaine. Carson was familiar and comforting, and Kurt knew deep down that he would give him constructive criticism if he really needed to.

So he opened his eyes, and pulled the best sultry face he could muster, catching Carson’s eye in the mirror. Carson was staring back, wide eyed.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“Was that a good wow, or a bad wow?” asked Kurt nervously, dropping the face.

Carson swallowed. “Good wow. Very good wow. Kurt, that didn’t look like gas pain at all. That was sexy. Bobby had no fucking idea what he was talking about.”

Kurt looked at him quizzically. “Really?”

“Really, and I am going to kick his hair gelled ass for making you feel bad about yourself.”

“And you’re not just saying that because I’m your brother and you feel like you have to?”

Carson shook his head. “Kurt, no. I honestly think you’re sexy. Why do you think I’m so overprotective and worried about you when you’re not with me? It’s because you are so sexy, and there’s a lot of perverts out there.”

Kurt smiled in the mirror. “You seriously think so?”

“Would I lie to you?” asked Carson.

Kurt bit his lip, considering what he was about to say next. He had no idea what had just come over him, but he supposed a big part of it was that he was positively full of love for Carson right then. Carson, who was always there for him and made him feel better when he was upset. Who always defended him. Who had always been Kurt’s knight in shining armor even before Kurt knew what that was.

Carson, whom Kurt couldn’t let suffer. Carson had helped him so often, and now it was Kurt’s turn.

“You’re not the only one who worries, you know,” said Kurt, locking eyes with Carson in the mirror. “I worry a lot about you, too.” Carson gave him a little smile that went straight to Kurt’s heart.

“Aaaw, Kurtsie. You really shouldn’t. I do pretty well taking care of myself,” he replied.

“She’s no good for you!” Kurt said, the words coming out in a rush as he turned around to face his twin. There. He had said it. Carson looked confused.

“What?” he asked. “Who’s no good for me?”

“S-santana,” Kurt said quickly, before he could lose his nerve. “She’ll hurt you. Her track record is terrible. She’s slept with practically everyone in school, and none of her relationships ever last. She uses people. She slept with Finn. And I know you like her and all, but I just….I can’t let you go on pining over her when all she’s ever going to do is break your heart.”

Carson just stared at him throughout this speech, his mouth gaping open wider and wider with every word Kurt spoke. He looked positively shocked.

“Kurt,” he said after a few seconds of stunned silence. “I…I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Kurt blinked at him. “You don’t have to lie to me, Carson. I know you like her.”

Carson shook his head. “No…I…just….eew, no. NO. Why the hell would I like Santana of all people? She’s dangerous. I’d be better off dating an angry cobra if I was into her. Which I’m not.”

Kurt was extremely confused now. “But…I thought…”

Carson shook his head again. “Kurt, I don’t know what ever made you think I liked her, but I don’t. I really just….ugh, NO. You really don’t have to worry about that.”

Kurt tried desperately to process this new information without short-circuiting his brain. He still had so many questions. So many things that didn’t make sense.

“I heard you, though,” he murmured. “In the closet on New Year’s Eve, right after we…you know.” Carson blushed slightly. “I heard you making out with her.”

Carson closed his eyes. “No, Kurt, what you heard was Santana acting like a psycho mental case. She practically tried to assault me with her lips, and I pushed her away.”

“She…you did?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah,” continued Carson, nodding and looking at him. “I pushed her and told her to get off of me, and then she said she had a reputation to protect and she started banging around in there and moaning so that everyone would think something was happening. I was drunk, but I sure as hell remember that.”

“Wait,” said Kurt, holding up a hand and looking Carson right in the eyes. “To be perfectly clear, you and Santana did not make out at her party?”

“No,” said Carson. “Oh god, NO.” The emphatic way he spoke, and the look in his eyes, convinced Kurt that he was indeed telling the truth.

A million thoughts ran through Kurt’s mind at once. He thought about how Carson had been more than eager to go into the closet with him during that game. How they had kissed so passionately, and how Carson seemed to really be enjoying it. How his hands had wandered and explored Kurt, and how his fingers had been about to do wonderful things to him before Santana walked in. Clearly, he had not wanted to do the same with Santana, and Kurt felt bad now for not standing up to her more and allowing her to be alone in there with him.

And then he thought about how overprotective Carson was. Had always been. How he had always acted weird whenever Kurt checked out a guy, and how he could always come up with some sarcastic comment about the other boy. How he had disliked Finn. How he seemed to just hate Blaine.

And then a new, extremely troubling thought occurred to him. Those hickeys he had caught Carson trying to hide from him.

Santana hadn’t made them, obviously. And what’s more…they had first appeared the morning after Kurt had that really hot dream. And Kurt did have a sleepwalking problem. Maybe he didn’t have to actually leave the bed in order to “sleepwalk.”

Did I…oh god…did I give him those hickeys? DID I? And he just…he just let me do it. He didn’t wake me. He could have, but he didn’t, and…and he just said that he thinks I’m sexy.

“Are you ok?” Carson asked, calling Kurt’s attention to the fact that he had been openly staring at Carson’s neck.

“Yeah, I….I’m fine,” he replied. “I could use a hug, though.”

Carson smiled and reached out his arms, which Kurt fell into gratefully. He was so overcome with feelings and emotions, he didn’t even know what to do with them or where to begin. For now, he just wanted the familiar comfort of Carson’s arms.

********

Carson skipped school on Friday to spend as much time as possible with Kurt, and their father had said he was fine with that as long as Carson popped by the garage for a few hours to help out in the afternoon. Carson had reluctantly agreed, especially since Kurt told him he had made plans with Rachel to go to the movies, anyway

“Ugh, have fun with that,” Carson said with a shiver. “Trollberry is a nightmare at the movies.” She really was. She usually spent the entire time loudly critiquing the actors’ performances and commenting on how much better she thought she could do them.

So Carson was glad to just let Kurt deal with her while he headed to the garage. He figured that the most he would have to do is help fill a few orders and possibly tinker with an engine or two, and then he could escape and spend the rest of the weekend enjoying being with Kurt.

The last thing he expected when he entered the garage was to see the hobbit Warbler standing there, but lo and behold, there he was, looking extremely out of place with his fancy coat and immaculately gelled hair among all the cars and tools.

What the fuck is HE doing here? First I catch him alone with Kurt in our room and now he’s…what the hell, why is he talking to Dad?

“I think it would be really cool if you took advantage of that,” Blaine was saying as Carson walked closer. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping.”

Took advantage of WHAT? And what does he mean, overstepping? What the hell is going on here?

“You are,” said Burt pointedly. Blaine turned around and made to leave, looking slightly terrified as he came face to face with Carson, who said nothing. He just glared at the boy and pointed a finger in the direction of the door.

“What was he doing here?” Carson asked his father as Blaine left. “And what was he talking about when he said overstepping?”

“Never mind about that,” replied Burt, sounding tired. “Here, give me a hand with this engine, will you?”

Carson knew better than to push it, but he was burning with curiosity over what the fuck the hobbit was up to.

The pieces started to come together the next afternoon. Kurt and Carson were standing in the kitchen as Kurt made tea in preparation to catch up on his week’s worth of recorded TV shows, when their father walked in and tossed what looked like a bunch of brochures on the center island. Carson peered at them for a second and instantly wished he hadn’t when he realized what they were.

“What are those?” Kurt asked, sounding very uncomfortable indeed as he stared down at the pamphlets.

“Those are some pamphlets that I picked up from the free clinic,” replied Burt. “I thought it might help the process along, because it is time that I had “the talk” with you boys.”

Oh, god. Fuck, no, this isn’t happening right now. I’ll die, thought Carson.

“No, it’s not,” said Kurt quickly, his eyes growing as wide as saucers.

“Yes, it is,” said their dad.

Carson looked down at his shoes and said nothing. Kurt stuck his fingers in his ears and began to chant “La la la la la” so that he didn’t have to hear their dad talking.

“No, Dad, really, we do NOT need to have this conversation,” said Carson. “I promise I’ll remain celibate forever and I’ll ward off any potential suitors for Kurt.”

“Hey, you think this is easy for me?” asked Burt, gripping Kurt by the shoulders and leading him to a seat at the table. “Ok, believe me, I want to do this even less than you do. This is gonna suck for all three of us, but we’re going to get through it together, and we’ll all be better men because of it.” He pointed at the seat next to Kurt, indicating that Carson should take it. Carson reluctantly obeyed, sitting down and beginning to play with his thumbnail, which he suddenly found very interesting.

“Now,” said Burt, sliding a stack of pamphlets toward Kurt, “Most of the, um…mechanics of what you’re gonna be doing is covered in the pamphlets, ok? And Carson, here,” he continued, sliding a separate stack of pamphlets toward him. “I, uh…wasn’t exactly sure which ones applied to you, so I got you all the same ones as Kurt. So there’s some, uh…some gay specific ones and some on sex in general.  So, I want you boys to read them and then I want you to come and talk to me about it.”

Carson wished the floor would open up and swallow him. Or maybe for a hungry tiger to appear and eat him. Anything to get him out of this conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Kurt blushed furiously, looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else but where he was.

“Deal?” asked Burt.

“Ok,” Kurt said quickly, getting up from his seat and looking like he was preparing to run away. Carson jumped up and took his arm, desperate to lead him away and spare them both from this unspeakable embarrassment.

“Hey, sit down!” their dad said. “We’re just getting started.”

Oh, fuck, thought Carson, sitting reluctantly back down in his seat. Kurt did the same, his “Please, get me out of here” face growing even more intense.

“Alright. You know, for most guys, sex is just…you know…it’s this thing that we always want to do. You know…it’s fun, it feels great…”

Jesus Chris, Dad, please stop talking, oh my GOD, thought Carson, feeling his face turning red at the sudden memory of how many compromising positions he had dreamed of Kurt being in. Carson, oh fuck, STOP, this isn’t going to make the embarrassment any less. He wondered if Kurt was doing the same thing and remembering his own dreams about Blaine.

Ugh. Blaine. Carson suddenly had a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the hobbit’s mysterious conversation with Burt the day before at the garage. He just knew that Blaine was responsible for this talk. He just knew it.

“But,” Burt continued, “We’re not really thinking too much about, you know…how it makes us feel on the inside, or, you know, how the other person feels about it.”

“Women are different?” asked Kurt quietly.

“Only because they get that it’s about something more than just the physical,” replied Burt. “You know, when you’re intimate with somebody in that way, you’re exposing yourself. You know….you’re never going to be more vulnerable, and that scares the hell out of a lot of guys. Believe me, I can’t tell you how many buddies I’ve got who have gotten in way too deep with a girl who said she was cool with just hooking up.

“But that’s not gonna happen to me, Dad,” Kurt pointed out. Carson nodded for emphasis. He kind of wanted to say “Me either,” but didn’t.

It won’t happen to me because Kurt’s kind of it for me, he thought sadly.

“No. It’s gonna be worse, ok? Because it’s two guys,” said Burt. “With two guys, you got two people who think that sex is just sex. It’s gonna be easier to come by, and once you start doing this stuff, you’re not gonna want to stop. You got to know that it means something. You know, it’s doing something to you. To your heart. To your self-esteem. Even though it feels like you’re just having fun.”

Carson listened carefully to these words, letting them sink in. He was worried. He had a feeling that Kurt didn’t view sex in that way. Kurt was a very romantic person. But other guys…not so much, most likely. He really wasn’t joking when he said to Kurt that he worried about Blaine taking advantage of him. If the worst happened and Kurt started dating someone (anyone, not even just Blaine), the thought of him being pressured into things he wasn’t ready for sent a shiver down Carson’s spine and made his blood boil.

“So you’re saying we shouldn’t have sex?” asked Kurt, and Carson blushed at the way he had phrased that question.

“I think on your 30th birthday, it is a great gift to yourself,” said Burt. Carson nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes. Yes, I agree. I think he should actually wait until he’s 40. Or 50. Or, you know…never,” he said. Both Kurt and Burt looked at him, Kurt with raised eyebrows and Burt with a small, amused smile.

“Boys, when you’re ready, I want you to be able to….do everything. But when you’re ready, I want you to use it as a way to connect to another person. Don’t throw yourselves around like you don’t matter. ‘Cause you matter. Both of you.”

There was a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence, and then Kurt spoke up.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“That’s it. For now,” Burt said. Kurt gave him a small smile.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” replied Burt. Kurt gathered up his pamphlets and scurried out of the room, obviously eager to escape. Carson stayed in his seat, still mulling over his thoughts.

“Did you have any questions, Carson?” asked his dad, startling Carson a little. He hadn’t realized his dad was still there.

“Just one, actually,” he said, remembering Blaine. “What brought this on? It was Kurt’s little troll friend, wasn’t it? He was at the garage yesterday talking to you and all of a sudden you’re ready to talk to us about sex.”

Burt sighed. “He did try to convince me that I should discuss sex with Kurt, yes.”

WHAT?

“He tried to what, now?” asked Carson. “I will kill him. How is Kurt’s sex life any of his business? And how is it appropriate to go to someone’s father, and-”

“Hey, calm down, ok? I mean, I was shocked he had the balls to say it, too, but it was a good thing if it finally got me to talk to you kids about sex,” said Burt. Carson narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t like him,” he said.

“I know, kid,” said Burt sympathetically, getting up from the table and patting Carson on the shoulder. “Read your pamphlets.”

Carson took his stack and shuffled out of the kitchen, still thinking dark thoughts about Blaine. Who the hell did he think he was, going behind Kurt’s back like that? Carson didn’t even want to think about how embarrassed Kurt would feel if he knew. He decided he wouldn’t tell him.

But so help me, I will be fucking WATCHING you, Baldwin.

Kurt was sitting on their bed when Carson got upstairs, with his pamphlets spread out like a fan in front of him, his fingers gliding over them as if he were trying to figure out which one to read first. He looked up sharply when Carson entered and he blushed, shrinking away from the pamphlets like he didn’t want to be seen even looking at them.

“Well,” said Carson sitting beside him and tossing his own stack of pamphlets in front of him. “That was, to say the least, extremely awkward and embarrassing.”

“Tell me about it,” Kurt muttered. “Honestly, I’m sort of scared to read these, but I also know that I should. To, you know…be prepared.”

“Be prepared for what?” asked Carson. “Did you think I was kidding when I said you should wait until you’re 50 or even older?” Kurt gave him a funny look and then smiled.

“You’re too much,” he said. “Well, two can play that game, honey. If I’m not allowed to have sex until I’m 50, then neither are you.”

“Oh really?” Carson said, raising one eyebrow.

“Yep,” said Kurt. “Nobody’s getting their hands on this,” he said, drawing a circle in the air over Carson’s body, “until they meet with my approval.”

“I’m touched, Kurtsie.”

“No, you’re not. That’s the whole point,” said Kurt. “Now shut up and read your pamphlets.”

They both settled against the pillows of the bed, silently working their way through the pamphlets as night fell around them, until Kurt let out a loud sigh and sat up.

“I can’t absorb all this information. It’s too much! It’s making me never want to have sex, seriously,” he said.

“Good,” said Carson, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “One less thing I have to worry about, isn’t it?”

“Very funny,” said Kurt. “I can’t read any more. I’m gonna go shower and do my face.”

“Ok,” said Carson, putting his glasses back on and continuing where he had left off on the gay sex pamphlet as Kurt disappeared into the bathroom. Honestly, they did make sex seem kind of terrifying.

What the hell does “Injuries could occur without proper preparation, so prepare your partner carefully” mean? What kind of injuries are they talking about?  For all that the pamphlets were supposed to be informative, they didn’t actually clarify that part. Carson looked toward the bathroom door. The shower was going, and Kurt would be at least a half an hour in there. He liked to wash his hair twice and then condition.

He pulled out his laptop and opened his internet browser, making sure to open a private surfing window. He didn’t need “Gay sex injuries” appearing in his browser history. Not that anyone ever really looked at his laptop, but Kurt used it sometimes. Carson would die of humiliation if Kurt saw what he was searching for.

Twenty minutes later, after a thorough education on just how many things could go wrong with anal sex, and a side trip to several websites that detailed how to properly prepare one’s partner for penetration, Carson was determined to make sure Kurt never had sex if it meant protecting him from such possibilities.

Oh my GOD, he thought, what if my worst nightmare happens and he starts dating the hobbit? I highly doubt that guy knows what the fuck he’s doing. He’d hurt Kurt for sure, and then I would have to murder him. Kurt should top. I don’t care so much if Billy gets hurt. Actually, that might be a bonus.

“Hey, once I’ve got my pajamas on, do you wanna go downstairs and make a dent in those shows on the DVR?” asked Kurt, emerging from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his chest still wet from the shower. Carson gulped and tried not to be too obvious that he was staring.

“Sure. Yeah, let’s do that.”

********

Now that Kurt suspected that Carson felt a little more than just brotherly toward him, he wasn’t sure how to act around him. How was a person supposed to act when they were feeling romantic things toward their own brother, and were about eighty percent sure that those feelings were returned in kind? It wasn’t like there were rulebooks for this sort of thing. Every little interaction, every instance of sibling banter, and every lingering look between them now had a double meaning, and it honestly overwhelmed Kurt a little.

He wondered if he should tell Carson how he felt. A part of him wanted to so much, wanted to hear Carson say he felt the same and see what developed between them, especially since it felt like things were never going to get anywhere with Blaine. On the other hand, the thought of laying his heart out like that scared the hell out of him. What if he was wrong, and Carson really didn’t feel like that about him? And if he was right, and Carson did like him in that way, then what? It wasn’t like they could really be together, could they? It would have to be kept secret from everybody, and society would tear them apart.

He was so confused and had no idea how to approach Carson about it, so he said nothing. And it was eating him up inside. He couldn’t stop himself now from imagining how it would be if he told him. If they were together in that way. He lay awake half the night after the pamphlet incident, just watching Carson sleep and pretending that they were lovers. He took in every contour of Carson’s face, every freckle, every twitch of his nose as he reacted to whatever it was he was dreaming about. He felt the secure embrace of Carson’s arms around him and pretended that they had just made love. The very thought of it overwhelmed him with emotions and he quickly focused his attention back on Carson’s face. On his lips. He remembered how nice those lips had felt on his, and wished more than anything he could feel them again.

At some point, he realized that he had been softly stroking Carson’s face with his thumb and had no idea how long he had been doing it. Even for someone who didn’t have nearly the same dedication to skin care as Kurt did, Carson’s skin was still very soft and felt really good, and Kurt kind of really wanted to kiss it.

So he did. He leaned his face in close to Carson’s and placed a feathery soft kiss on his cheek, as close to his mouth as he dared. And then he did it again, letting the kiss linger a little longer this time. Carson smiled a little in his sleep, letting out a happy little sigh, and Kurt’s heart thumped in his chest.

I love you so much, Carsey. I wish I knew how to tell you that.

He settled his head against Carson’s chest and kissed him over his T-shirt before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

********

To say that Kurt’s week started off on the wrong foot would have been a huge understatement. Blaine had apparently decided to scrap the whole sexy idea and go with Maroon 5’s “Misery” as their Regionals opening number instead. Not that it really mattered, Kurt thought, since it was still more of the same, with Blaine singing lead and Kurt and the rest of the Warblers providing backup for him. Kurt seriously wondered if anyone but Blaine ever got to sing lead in a Warblers number. Now that he thought about it, this didn’t seem to be the case. It was always Blaine who sang lead, without fail.

“Sometimes, I don’t feel like we’re the Warblers,” he had actually told Blaine after a rehearsal for the “Misery” number. “I feel like we’re Blaine and the Pips.” It just went to show how stressed and irritated he was, considering he did still have a bit of a crush on Blaine and normally he probably wouldn’t have said anything to him because of that.

Blaine hadn’t said anything, just stood there with his mouth open, looking absolutely shocked, as though he’d never even considered this before.

Well, someone had to point it out, said Kurt. Carson would have been SO proud of me.

Then Kurt had had to deal with the death of Pavarotti, the yellow canary which was a good luck charm for the Warblers, and that they had placed in Kurt’s care soon after his arrival at Dalton. Kurt felt bad for the poor little thing. He had spent his whole life in a cage and had never even seen anything of the world. Kurt had delivered the sad news to the Warblers with an emotional performance of “Blackbird,” if for nothing else than to make himself feel better.

And the cherry on the proverbial sundae was the fact that he couldn’t get Carson out of his mind. Every time he called Carson to say goodnight, he came so very close to just blurting out “I love you, ok? I love you and I want to be with you forever!” He thought maybe he would at least feel better and less stressed if he just put it all out there. But still he said nothing.

Add the stress of preparing for regionals, and yes, this week was not going very well at all. Not until Wednesday, that is, when Blaine had called a Warblers council meeting to announce that he wanted to turn the first number at Regionals into a duet, which he wanted to sing with Kurt. No auditions required. Kurt had been shocked, to say the least. Since when did Blaine like sharing his spotlight? Kurt liked him and all, but he really did seem like the Rachel of Dalton Academy at times.

No matter, though. If it meant that he got to sing at Regionals, he wasn’t going to complain. He was so happy that he immediately called Carson to share his good news (he just didn’t tell him the part about no auditions being required. He didn’t feel like hearing about how Blaine probably had some ulterior motive).

“Oh, Kurtsie, that’s great!” Carson said, the smile evident in his voice. “I’m so proud of you! It’s about time the hobbit shared the wealth a little. He’s worse than Rachel when it comes to solos.”

“I’m nervous now that I’m thinking about it, though,” said Kurt. “I’ve never sung in front of so many people before. Not where all the attention is on me, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” replied Carson. “You’re the best singer ever. Your voice is gorgeous. Everyone is going to love you. Especially me.”

Kurt swallowed, feeling the familiar urge to blurt out his feelings that he had been successfully suppressing so far. “You have to say that,” he said, trying to sound teasing. “You’re my big brother.”

“Even if I wasn’t, I would still love you, because you’re you,” said Carson. “Can’t help it.”

Kurt smiled to himself. Say it, Kurt. Say it. Just do it. Just take a deep breath and-

A shrill ringing from the other end of the line cut into his thoughts. “Oh, hey, Kurt? I have to go,” said Carson. “Bell just rang. Call me back in an hour, ok?”

Kurt mentally shook himself and nodded, forgetting that Carson couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“Great. And congratulations! I’m going to track Trollberry down today and brag, and then rub her face in it. She’ll be so worried when she knows she has to compete against you,” said Carson.

Kurt laughed. “Go to class, Carsey.”

“Talk to you later, baby.”

“Bye.”

Kurt hung up the phone, pressing it to his chest and staring off into space. Baby. He called me baby.

And right then and there, while riding the high of anticipating his first real performance in front of an audience, and with his heart full of joy from his conversation with Carson, he came to a decision. When he went home that weekend, he was going to tell Carson how he felt. He had to. He couldn’t keep it to himself anymore.

He went up to his room and gathered the supplies he had accumulated to decorate Pavarotti’s casket, bringing them down to the common room and setting them out on an empty table. He felt a little weird for being in such a good mood while preparing to bedazzle a casket, but stranger things had happened.

And the bird did deserve a nice box to be buried in.

Kurt set to work, his mood flagging a little as he thought about the poor bird. He was concentrating so much that Blaine’s entrance into the room at first escaped his attention.

“What’s that?” Blaine asked, and Kurt looked up.

“I’m decorating Pavarotti’s casket,” he replied.

“Well, finish up,” said Blaine. “I have the perfect song for our number, and we should practice.”

“Do tell!” said Kurt, curious what song Blaine had come up with.

“Candles, by Hey Monday,” replied Blaine. Kurt was a little surprised. He didn’t think that was the kind of song Blaine would be into.

“I’m impressed,” he said, setting down his glue. “You’re usually so Top 40.”

“Well, I just wanted something a little more emotional,” said Blaine, taking a seat at the table and looking like he was extremely nervous. Kurt realized he’d had the same nervous look on his face since he’d come into the room. A nagging thought floated around in his brain, refusing to come to the surface and crystallize completely, but he had a feeling he knew what it was anyway.

“Why did you pick me to sing that song with?” he asked Blaine, settling back in his chair and looking the other boy in the eyes.

“Kurt,” he said, closing his eyes and looking like he was trying to gather up the courage to say whatever it was he was about to say, “There is a moment when you say to yourself, “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for you forever.”

Kurt felt his heart leap into his throat as he suddenly realized where this was going. Oh god, seriously? After all the “Let’s just be friends” stuff, now he…oh, ok, that’s a hand. That’s his hand on my hand, and wow, it’s really warm in here, and THOSE EYES, stop staring at me with those eyes…

“Watching you do “Blackbird” this week…that was a moment for me. About you,” Blaine continued. “You move me, Kurt.”

Kurt was surprised that his heart didn’t leap completely out of his body at this point and throw itself out one of the fancy windows of the common room.

“And this duet would just be an excuse to spend more time with you,” Blaine finished, leaving Kurt wondering what the hell he was supposed to say. Not that it mattered, because suddenly Blaine’s face was closing in on his, and before Kurt could really process what was happening, his lips were covered by Blaine’s.

Oh god oh god oh god…lips…kiss…this is kissing. Blaine is kissing me. Blaine, who isn’t Carson, is kissing me and it actually feels really nice, but…but what about Carson?...should I stop the kiss?...WHAT DO I DO?

He couldn’t get his brain to get itself together enough to stop the kiss, so he just went with it, bringing a hand up to Blaine’s face to deepen it. Blaine’s lips weren’t as soft as Carson’s, which actually surprised Kurt a little, and he didn’t exactly feel the electric spark that he felt when he kissed Carson, but it still felt nice. Nice enough that he was rather flustered when they finally parted from the kiss, and he knew his face was as red as a beet.

They sat there just staring at each other for a minute. Kurt had no idea what to say, or even how to think anymore, really. He was happy, but also so very,very confused, and even a little bit sad when he thought about what Carson’s reaction would be if he knew about this.

Blaine let out a small laugh at last. “Uh, we should…we should practice,” he said, sounding as flustered as Kurt felt.

“I thought we were,” replied Kurt. They looked at one another for several more seconds, and then like magnets their lips were back on each other.

They never did get any practicing done for the song that afternoon.

But now Kurt was more confused than ever. He had just made his decision to tell Carson how he felt, and now he couldn’t. The more he thought about it, the more he decided that maybe Blaine’s timing was a blessing in disguise. What had he been thinking, planning to tell Carson all of that? What would he have done if Carson really did feel the same? Kurt was pretty sure incest was illegal, especially in Ohio, and if they were in a relationship and someone found out, then maybe their dad would get into some kind of trouble since they were underage. Not to mention the fact that both Kurt and Carson would be ostracized and bullied by everyone for the rest of their lives. Kurt was pretty used to being badly bullied, but Carson wasn’t. Sure, he wasn’t exactly popular, but nobody had ever gotten violent with him the way they had with Kurt. And if it slipped out that they were in a gay incestuous relationship, that’s exactly what would happen. Kurt could pretty much guarantee it. The last thing he wanted was to put Carson through that.

No, it was better for everyone if he just kept it to himself. If nothing ever developed, then maybe they both would get over their feelings. And Kurt had Blaine now to help with that. Blaine was what he’d wanted, right?

It’s for the best, Kurt. It’s for the best, it’s for the best, it’s for the best….

********

Carson was in a good mood as he strolled through the front yard on Thursday afternoon, armed with half a dozen empty toilet paper rolls, just as many mini lanterns he had found in a box of Christmas decorations, duct tape, and some string. He was going to set up this week’s practical joke on Finn, and since Finn had (shockingly) gotten smarter about getting up early on Friday mornings to avoid Carson, he was going to have to pull this off early. Not to mention that this prank really only would work at night.

He took the six paper rolls, each of which he had carefully cut holes into that were in the shape of eyes, and inserted one of the mini lanterns into each one, securing them in place with the duct tape. He checked to make sure that each lantern’s cord was plugged into the nearby power strip and hidden from view, and then secured each roll to the bushes outside the house with the string. He fished the remote from his pocket that controlled the lanterns and clicked it. All six lanterns lit up. Perfect. He clicked it off and went back inside the house, smiling to himself when he thought about the seventh roll he had planted in Finn’s room, with a battery operated light inside.

He was in an extra good mood because this weekend was the show choir regional competition, and he was looking forward to seeing Kurt perform with the Warblers the next afternoon. Kurt was singing a duet, and Carson couldn’t wait to hear it. Sure, it was with Blaine, and Carson didn’t like the idea of them practicing for hours alone together, but he was willing to ignore that for once and count this as progress. Maybe next time Kurt would get the solo he so richly deserved. Plus, Kurt would come home for the weekend after the competition, so Carson had two whole days of time with him to look forward to.

He waited until several hours after Finn had come home, when it was suitably dark outside but their parents still hadn’t come home from work.

“Hey Finn,” he said, walking into the kitchen and trying to sound as serious as possible. “Did you hear that noise just now?”

Finn looked up from the gigantic plate of pizza rolls he was consuming like there was no tomorrow and looked at him in confusion. “Huh? What noise?”

“I don’t know…it was like, a scratching noise,” Carson said. “Like maybe a raccoon or something is stuck outside. Or maybe it’s a burglar. But either way, I think you should go check it out.”

Finn frowned. “Why don’t you do it?” he asked.

Carson sighed. “You’re taller,” he said, as if this was obvious and Finn should have known it. “So you should go check.”

Finn frowned again, but shrugged and got up from his seat, heading out the front door to go check out the mysterious noise. Carson shook his head, marveling at how fucking easy it was to convince Finn to do shit. He never even needed to be all that cunning. It was soothing, almost. God, he’s SUCH an idiot.

He waited until he was reasonably sure that Finn was standing in front of the bushes, and then he clicked the button on the remote several times in a row before leaving it in the “on” position, a grin spreading across his face as he heard the high pitched scream coming from outside.

Finn practically barreled back into the house, slamming the door behind him. “Dude, there’s something out there!” he panted. “It had glowing eyes.”

“Glowing eyes, Finn? Really?” Carson asked, rolling his eyes and trying not to smile. “How many of those pizza rolls did you eat? I think all the processed cheese went to your brain.”

“Dude, I know what I saw,” Finn insisted. “I’m not crazy.”

“Ok, show me,” said Carson. Finn led him outside to the bushes and pointed.

“Right there,” he said. They both waited, Carson biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Finn started stammering.

“There were eyes, though,” he murmured. “I know there were.”

“Sure there were, Finn. Sure there were,” said Carson.

The blood curdling scream Finn let out later that night as Carson clicked the second, smaller remote that controlled the lantern he had placed in his room just topped the evening off perfectly.

********

Carson thought he would never last until it was time to leave McKinley to drive to Regionals, but he managed. Since it was at the same venue as last year’s competition, he remembered how to get backstage and did just that, intending to seek out Kurt and give him a good luck hug before it was the Warblers’ turn to perform.

But which green room was theirs? He searched around, greeted with nothing but empty rooms, and wondered if maybe the Warblers hadn’t gone backstage yet.

“What are you doing here, Dan Rather?” he heard a familiar voice say from behind him, and turned around to see Santana staring at him, her arms crossed. “You’re not supposed to be back here. This is for the competing teams only.”

“I’m here to see Kurt before he performs,” retorted Carson, wondering why the hell Kurt ever would have thought he had a crush on this girl. “If that’s ok with you, your highness.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “Right, right. You’re here to see your sweet porcelain lover. He’s back that way, around the corner with the rest of the blazered freaks,” she said, pointing down the hallway. “Berry was talking to him earlier.”

Carson nodded, choosing to ignore the lover comment. Santana had been making similar cracks at his and Kurt’s expense ever since the 7 Minutes in Heaven debacle, and it was old hat by now. He headed in the direction she had indicated and turned the corner, spotting Kurt instantly because he was standing by himself outside one of the doors, holding his phone in his hand and texting, by the looks of it. Carson was about to shout “Kurtsie!” when something happened that made his blood run cold.

Blaine came out of the room, smoothing that damn blazer down, and placed his hand on the back of Kurt’s neck. Kurt turned his head to look at him and smiled, and then their lips were touching.

They were kissing. That fucking douche had his filthy lips on Kurt’s, and they were kissing. And Kurt didn’t look anxious, or uncomfortable, and he wasn’t protesting. He wanted to be kissing the guy, clearly.

Carson felt sick. All the sound seemed to leave the air as the only thing he was able to hear was the hammering of his own heartbeat and the blood rushing in his ears. He felt like someone had just taken a knife and twisted it into his heart. They may as well have. He wished someone had. It would have been less painful than what he was witnessing right now.

He wanted to scream, or cry, or march over there and yank Blaine off of Kurt, maybe even make it clear that if he so much as breathed on Kurt again he would be leaking hair gel out of his nose for the next fifteen years, but he didn’t do anything. In the end, he just turned around the way he had came, while Kurt and Blaine were still kissing, and hoped he could make it to his seat in the auditorium without throwing up.

The competition seemed to drag on forever, and Carson sat there stony faced, watching the whole thing but not really concentrating. The only performance he really took in was the Warblers’ set, and that only made the imaginary knife pain in his heart worse. Kurt’s voice was angelic as always, but the looks he was exchanging with the hobbit throughout their duet were like a fresh twist of the knife each time.

How long has this been going on? Carson wondered. It has to be fairly recent. They were still friends when Dad gave us the-

He suddenly realized, to his absolute horror, that they must have started dating only after Blaine had asked Burt to give Kurt the sex talk. Not even a week after.

I knew it. I fucking knew it. All this “let’s be friends” stuff was a bunch of fucking bullshit. He was only waiting for the perfect moment to sink his claws into Kurt, and apparently the perfect moment is after Kurt’s been thoroughly informed about sex. I will kill him. I will fucking murder him.

At long last, all the teams had competed and the competition was over. Carson forgot his anger and sadness momentarily when the Warblers lost, and he could clearly see the disappointment evident on his twin’s face.

Poor baby, he thought. If they had let you sing alone, you guys would have won. Fucking Brandon brought the whole team down and destroyed your chances.

Not to mention my life.

********

The ride home was awkward for Carson. He was still hurting, and he didn’t trust himself to speak without crying. He hadn’t said anything at all, actually, since he had hugged Kurt after the competition was over and said his comforting words about how they should have won. Thankfully, Blaine had kept his distance. He probably was worried Carson would do painful things to his balls if he came too close.

Other than that, Carson hadn’t said a word the entire car ride. He drove in silence, concentrating on the road and looking anywhere but at Kurt. He didn’t want to see Kurt’s lips and remember them attached to Blaine’s. Not unless he wanted the pain in his chest to worsen. Kurt seemed to sense that something was wrong and wasn’t talking either until they were about halfway home.

“What’s wrong, Carsey?” he asked, his voice uncertain. “It’s not like you to look so sad. Actually, it…it kind of scares me a little. Is everything alright?”

 Carson closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Nothing. Just, I…I’m sad for you. You know, Regionals and stuff,” Carson lied. “I know how much you wanted to win.”

He could see Kurt looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Kurt didn’t believe him.

“No,” he said slowly. “It's something else, I can tell-"

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Carson blurted out, interrupting him. He kept his eyes straight ahead on the road. He wasn’t going to cry, damn it. Not here. Not in front of Kurt. Never in front of him.

“Tell you what,” Kurt said quietly, the tone of his voice indicating that he knew perfectly well what.

"I saw you. Backstage. With your lips all over Prince Dapper. Were you ever going to tell me about that or was it going to be a secret forever?” asked Carson. Kurt turned his head and looked out the window.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“Such as when?” asked Carson.

“I don’t know,” said Kurt, sounding like he was about to cry. “I wanted to tell you in person. This weekend, maybe. I just…I know how you feel…about Blaine,” he added quickly, “And I wanted to break the news to you g-gently.” His voice was quivering now. Carson sighed and pulled the car over to the side of the road, turning to face Kurt.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Kurt whispered.

“Kurt, it’s ok,” Carson said gently. “I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. I just…well, you know I don’t trust that guy and I worry about you. I worry all the time.”

“I know,” said Kurt, looking at him with glistening eyes. “I know how much you worry. And I knew you wouldn’t take the news well, and I…I guess I was just trying to find the best way to tell you.”

Carson absentmindedly traced his finger across the steering wheel, hoping it would distract him from the lump in his throat.

“I really do like him,” Kurt continued, his voice sounding pleading. “And I really want this to work. I need it to.”

Carson swallowed. The lump was still there.

“Say something, Carsey. Please?” Kurt asked desperately.

Carson closed his eyes and reached for Kurt’s hand. “If he honestly makes you happy, Kurt, then I’m fine. That’s all I ever want. For you to be happy. Does he do that? Does he make you happy?”

Kurt hesitated a moment before answering. “Yes,” he said, not sounding certain at all. The sureness and confidence he usually had in his voice wasn’t there, but Carson didn’t want to push it.

“Come here,” he said, reaching his arms out. Kurt entered them eagerly, and they hugged each other close, Carson feeling like heart was ripping in half as he felt Kurt whisper “Thank you” into his neck.

“I’ll be watching Bobby very closely,” he said as they continued hugging. “Very, very, VERY closely.”

He felt Kurt smile against his skin. “I know you will, Carsey.”

And if he so much as dares to break your heart, I will break his face. And his legs. And everything he holds dear.