Kurt followed the taillights of Blaine’s SUV up the hill. Either Blaine was intentionally moving at a snail’s pace, or Kurt was more anxious than he’d realized. He’d been driving a manual transmission since he was a teenager, but his BMW lurched and staggered from each stop sign like his first turn behind the wheel with a student driver permit.

“Calm down, Hummel,” he said to himself, stealing a glance of himself in the rear view mirror.

He may have played it cool with Blaine at the restaurant, and he’d flat-out stalked him at work that first day, but the fact of the matter was he was terrified. He’d seen Blaine in the store before, picking out paint or lighting, but he never had a legitimate reason to approach him until that day in the design department.

He saw an opportunity and he seized it, moving with a confidence that masked the bundle of nerves wound tightly just under the surface. He had never been so assertive before, but if this was to be his only chance with the beautiful stranger with the bad bathroom, then he was not going to let it slip by.

He’d never been so aggressive in his pursuit of someone before, but he also made sure to give himself an out if all Blaine really wanted was advice on installing a shower stall.

The hours they’d just spent in the restaurant — talking, leaning into each other, occasionally touching a hand or forearm for emphasis — and their quick departure indicated that any remodeling job was not Blaine’s current priority, even if it was the excuse they both had used to rationalize after-dinner drinks at Blaine’s home.

Now Blaine was pulling into a driveway and Kurt was gulping down his nerves as he parked alongside him.

“Here we are,” Blaine said, shrugging. “Home sweet home.” “Here we are,” Kurt said, walking alongside him. They walked side-by-side, nearly but not quite touching, to the front door of the hillside cottage.

Blaine opened the door, flipped on the entry light and held the door open for Kurt, who paused just as he reached the threshold. He looked down at the floor, then met Blaine’s gaze and took a noticeable breath.

“I don’t really want a drink.”

“No?” Blaine whispered, his eyes wide.

“No, no drinks.”

Kurt leaned forward, tilted his head just so, and pressed his lips to Blaine’s. He rested his hand against Blaine’s shoulder, and as Blaine pressed into kiss and opened his mouth, clutched it tightly.