It was almost dark outside by the time they drove back to the book store so Blaine could get his car. Their hair was damp from the second shower they'd both had to take and Blaine flinched uncomfortably when he got into the truck, thinking it had been so worth it.

The drive was tranquil on the way back, underscored with soft music playing from the radio. Blaine hummed under his breath as Kurt drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, a lot more relaxed than he had been earlier. He was dressed in his nice clothes, with a light scarf around his neck to hide the evidence of his afternoon with Blaine, since he was going from there to dinner with his family.

When they arrived at the bookshop, Kurt cut the engine before turning to face him.

"Thank you for today," he said softly, almost bashfully. "I'm sorry I didn't get a lot of work done here. I promise I'll..."

"Hey," Blaine smiled, and reached for Kurt's hand to place a quick kiss on his palm. "I really don't care. It's not like it was a total waste of time, right?"

Kurt grinned and then bit his lips to hide it. "Right..."

They moved at the same time, mouths searching, Kurt's hand going to the back of Blaine's neck to pull him in, Blaine's finding a perfect place to rest on Kurt's side. Their lips slid together for a little while, soft and teasing, until they remembered they were sitting in plain view in a truck in Lima.

"I guess I'll see you..." Kurt muttered, breathless.

"Yeah..." Blaine interrupted, eyes fixed on his lips, dying to press one more kiss to them.

"Oh, fuck it," Kurt mumbled, and leaned to kiss Blaine again.

"You're... going... to be late... for dinner..." Blaine managed to say whenever their mouths shifted enough for him to get the words out.

"Don't care," Kurt groaned, pushing his tongue against Blaine's. "God, Blaine, I..."

A cellphone rang and they both jumped apart as if they had been caught in the act. Laughing nervously, Kurt fished his phone out of his pocket while Blaine tried to fix his hair, even though it was so completely wrecked, it seemed pointless.

"Hi... yeah, hi, Dad. I'm on my way right now..." Kurt said into the phone, turning to look at Blaine with dark eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. No, no, I'm not breathing funny. I'm just driving. Sure. Sure I can pick some dessert up... No, don't worry. I'll be there soon. Love you, too."

Kurt slipped his phone back into his pocket as Blaine grabbed his satchel.

"I think that's my cue to go," Blaine smiled at him and squeezed his hand. If he kissed him again, he would never leave. "Have a nice dinner."

"Thanks," Kurt answered. He looked into Blaine's eyes meaningfully. "For everything."

"Any time," he squeezed his hand once again, and then exited the truck. He watched Kurt as he drove away, standing by his own car, only climbing into it when he couldn't see him anymore.

During the long, silent drive back to his apartment, Blaine had a lot of time to think.

*

Images of Kurt fucking him kept running through Blaine's head, keeping him awake and restless. Kurt's lips on his, Kurt's hands on his hips, Kurt's pale skin against his, Kurt's sheets tangled around his legs, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt...

It was amazing how easily Kurt had crawled under his skin, make a nest there, as if he was planning to stay for a very long time. It was unsettling and exciting at the same time. Blaine wasn't sure if he was suited for someone as extraordinary as Kurt, when he was so average. Blaine was the kind of guy who stumbled over his own feet when he walked down the street. Kurt walked with his head high, as if he owned the street, with his eyes glaring, and his boots heavy on the asfalt, making people turn to stare at him. No one would pain attention to Blaine even if he was standing on a rooftop, screaming his lungs out. Kurt only needed to step into a room to stop people in their tracks. Blaine was invisible; Kurt was a force of nature.

Blaine knew instinctively, without a second thought, that Kurt meant heartbreak. If he allowed himself to fall in love with Kurt, there was only pain ahead for him.

Blaine tossed in his bed, trying to get comfortable. Maybe he was being unfair. Yes, Kurt was the most frustatingly complicated man Blaine had ever met, but that didn't mean he was bad. In fact, Blaine knew that Kurt was just a wounded soul trying to survive in a difficult world full of pain, regret, and broken hopes. He wasn't naïve or credulous like Blaine could be. Life had hardened him, but deep down inside, he was just as vulnerable and lonely as Blaine was.

Stronger, though. He was so much stronger than Blaine. Blaine would've never been able to fight for survival like Kurt did every single day. Blaine would've cracked under that pressure within a week. Kurt was braver.

Could someone like Kurt be 'fixed'? Could Blaine make him see the beauty in life again? Could Blaine make him dream again? Kurt was so terribly stubborn and defensive, but Blaine felt like he needed to try.

No one should be as lonely, desperate, and broken as Kurt was.

*

Blaine certainly wasn't expecting things to be like this when they met again. He hadn't imagined Kurt walking into the book store with a bouquet of roses, wearing a tuxedo, with a horse-drawn carriage ready to take them on a romantic ride around Lima, but... this? He expected more than this.

Blaine arrived at the store first, put his satchel down on the armchair and his laptop on the small table next to it, as he usually did. He set down the cup holder with the two Lima Bean cups, hoping they would stay warm until Kurt got there. He turned his computer on and grabbed his notepad from his bag, flipping the pages until he found the list he was looking for: several things were underlined and checked off – the list of things that remained to be done was getting shorter and shorter every day.

He was checking his emails when Kurt walked in, dressed in his usual jeans and clinging t-shirt, toolbelt hanging around his hips and his boots not making a sound on the still-carpeted floor. He took his Wayfarers off, and Blaine immediately smiled at him, bright and a little eager.

Kurt only allowed his lips to curl up in a really lame attempt at a smile. "Good morning."

"Hey," Blaine said, as his own smile faltered. "I... bought you coffee."

"Thanks," Kurt answered simply, putting his tool box and bag down against the opposite wall.

Blaine stood to bring the coffee to him. "It's still warm."

Kurt tried to smile again as he accepted it. He failed. "There's a lot to do today, so I 'd better..." he muttered after a quick sip, gesturing around him vaguely.

Blaine nodded clumsily, feeling extremely confused, and then retreated to the safe armchair, to the comfort of his own coffee.

What the hell was going on?

It was just a fuck. He needed a way to relieve the tension and you were just convenient. It didn't mean anything to him. He doesn't care about you. You're not good enough. You're not attractive enough. You're bad in bed. You were too loud. You are just a stupid nerd. He lied. You made it all up in your head. He must have laughed at you after you were gone. Who could ever want you? Why would you think he'd like you? When has anyone really liked you? Why would someone like Kurt care about someone like you? Ugly, ugly, ugly, not wanted, not enough, not sexy, ugly...

Blaine felt like he couldn't breathe. His lungs wouldn't fill with air anymore. There was something heavy, toxic, making his chest ache, his eyes water, his lower lip tremble, forming a lump in his throat...

Stupid. Hopeless. Needy. Not wanted. Not enough. Not sexy. Ugly.

Man up. Of course he doesn't want you. Just look at you. One second of indifference and you're a mess. Pathetic. You deserve this. Man up.

Not enough.

Ugly.

Blaine stared intently at the screen of his computer, without really seeing anything. Everything was blurry through his threatening tears, nothing made any sense. But he kept staring at it, because looking at Kurt just wasn't possible. He just couldn't do it. He needed a few minutes to hide his anguish behind a mask.

Stupid. Clingy. It was just a fuck.

Suddenly, a surprisingly soft hand cupped his cheek and Blaine was forced to look up, a little startled.

Kurt was touching him so carefully, as if he was afraid he'd break. His eyes were a whole universe of colors, fixed on Blaine's, and his lips were slightly curved up again, but gentler. He smelled of coffee and warmth.

"I'm really bad at this," Kurt confessed in a low, timid voice.

Blaine swallowed. "T-this?"

"This," Kurt repeated, as if that made it all clearer. "I don't know what's off limits, what I'm allowed to do, and what I'm supposed to say. But... please stop looking so miserable. I... I can't handle seeing you like this."

It was just a fuck...

Blaine couldn't help the fear clutching his heart like an iron hand, saying those words over and over, whispering them in his ear...

Kurt's face darkened and the ghost of his smile vanished, making Blaine realize he must have said the words out loud. Kurt pulled away sharply, as if he'd been burnt, leaving Blaine creaving the touch of his fingers against his skin.

"That's all it was?" Kurt asked, trying to sound nonchalant, already rebuilding his walls around him, recoiling from him, pushing him away.

"You tell me," Blaine muttered, standing up to get closer to Kurt. "Why would you want anything more than that with me? I-it's okay if you just needed someone to take the edge off. I mean, it's not like I'm..."

"Blaine," Kurt's eyes were hard, his face serious. "It was not just a fuck. Not for me. If that's all I wanted, I would've gotten it somewhere else. Not with you, and certainly not for a second time after I pretty much told you my whole fucking life story..."

Blaine's lips were parted in a little gasp, from relief or surprise, he couldn't tell. "Okay..."

"You're so infuriating sometimes," Kurt said exasperated. Then he sighed, his face going softer, as he gave up and rested their foreheads together. "I don't do stuff like this, usually, whatever this is. I really don't want to screw it up, I'm just... I'm finding it hard to give up all of the protective walls I've built for myself. They've been protecting me for too long, and I..."

"I get it," Blaine interrupted, taking his turn to cup Kurt's cheek this time. "I won't pressure you into doing anything you don't want to do. As long as you know you can be yourself with me and come to me to talk whenever you need to, that's more than enough. You can... you can set the pace. For whatever this is."

Kurt let out a little incredulous laugh. "What the hell are we even doing?"

Blaine's lips shifted to form a slow smile. "I have no idea."

"Well," Kurt's eyes were boring into his. Blaine was sure he'd fall into them and he wouldn't ever be able to find his way back, and the thought didn't disturb him at all. "I have no idea either."

"Do you care?" Blaine asked, noticing he was sounding more and more breathless with every word.

"Not even a little bit," Kurt replied, before moving forward the remaining few inches until his mouth could capture Blaine's.

They kissed hungrily, clinging to each other's clothes and struggling to breathe. It was obvious both of them had been thinking about the other since they had last done it, and they had been waiting for their chance to kiss again.

Kurt pulled away first, with a quick glance towards the window, as if he was expecting half of Lima's population to be staring at them through the glass. He leaned in for a little peck and then took a step back, clearing his throat.

"I'd better go back to work," he said. Blaine was happy to hear his voice was a little hoarse with want. "I have a wall to knock down."

"Of course," Blaine answered, and oh, he didn't sound much better...

Kurt walked to the opposite side of the room to grab the tools he'd need, Blaine's eyes drawn to the way his hips swayed mesmerizingly and the perfect curve of his ass.

It was really noisy for a while, as Kurt worked (though not as violently as before they'd kissed for the first time. This time he was just doing his job – last time he'd been trying to pulverize his misery), and Blaine finished his coffee as he replied to a few emails and updated his lists. He couldn't focus properly, hyperaware of the man not even fifteen feet away from him. He could hear him, smell him, almost feel him...

It wasn't until one of Kurt's breaks to gather his breath and have some water that Blaine spoke again. The question had been buzzing around his brain all morning, and he couldn't keep it to himself any longer.

"Kurt?" He said softly.

Kurt glanced at him over his bottle of water, as his throat worked to swallow the clear liquid, with his eyebrows raised in question. "Mm?"

"I'd like you ask you something," Blaine muttered, standing up and taking a few steps closer. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Kurt's eyes immediately narrowed warily, probably out of habit, and Blaine almost bailed. "What is it?"

"Rachel," Blaine blurted, before his courage abandoned him.

Kurt seemed surprised at the mention of her name. "What about Rachel?"

"What are you going to do?" Blaine looked down, and then up again, biting his lip. "You know, about the tickets she sent you. Are you going to go?"

Kurt stared at him for the longest moment, and Blaine couldn't help but fidget, wishing he had kept his mouth shut, but knowing maybe a tiny little push in the right direction wouldn't be that bad. Kurt's expression was unreadable, so Blaine started wondering if he would flip out at him for daring to talk about it again. Then Kurt simply turned to put his bottle back in his bag and sighed tiredly.

"There's nothing to do about that, Blaine," he said. "Rachel sent those tickets to her best friend. The Kurt she was best friends with died a long time ago. I'm not the person she wants anymore, and I definitely have no intention of going back to New York. So..."

So there was nothing to talk about, no question to be answered, because there was no way Kurt would give in so easily. Blaine felt sad: if only Kurt would believe in his dreams for just one more second...

Kurt went back to work, and Blaine wasn't brave enough to push him any further. Not yet, at least.

*

It was all about sneaking kisses and simple touches every time they could. As days went by, they became more and more desperate to feel the other's skin, the other's lips. Kurt was the one who would always stop things from going too far, afraid they would be seen.

"Kurt, there's no one out there..."

"Until there is. We can't risk it."

"No one can touch you here."

"I don't live in here. And you don't want to risk your business even before you have a chance to open it."

Blaine didn't know Lima as well as Kurt did, but he was starting to think that Kurt's fears and doubts were all inside his head. Yes, maybe people around here weren't very accepting, maybe they wouldn't want to see two guys making out in plain sight... but would anyone really go out of their way to hurt two adult men?

Blaine's stomach churned uncomfortably and he decided he'd rather not find out.

But Blaine still ached to see Kurt being completely care-free. He wanted him to relax and enjoy himself, and forget about the outside world. He just wasn't sure how to make it happen without pushing Kurt's boundaries. He'd made a promise to let Kurt call the shots, and he intended to keep it.

It was a Thursday night, and they were about to leave for the day. Kurt had already put his tools in the back of his truck, and Blaine was waiting for his computer to turn off so he could put it in his satchel. Suddenly, Kurt's fingers were brushing lightly against his hand, and he looked up at him, wide-eyed.

Kurt leaned in to murmur into his ear. "Would you like to stay at my place tonight?"

A shiver ran down Blaine's spine, and he found himself nodding even before he could actually process the words. "I'd love to."

They packed the rest of their stuff, and Blaine said he would follow Kurt in his car. Kurt gave him a quick, beautiful smile before he got in his truck, waiting for him while Blaine locked the bookshop and walked to his own vehicle.

Blaine tried keeping his mind diverted as he drove, following the lights of Kurt's truck ahead of him. He listed everything still left to do in the bookshop – removing the carpet, fixing imperfections in the wooden floors, painting, installing the shelves – but his thoughts kept circling back to Kurt, to the way he'd asked him to stay at his house, the way his fingertips had ignited a flame deep down inside him.

When they parked in front of Kurt's house, Blaine paused before getting out of the car, to take a deep breath. Even though he could guess what Kurt's intentions might be, he still didn't know for sure why he had invited him to stay over. What if he needed to talk about something? What if he was ready to share more about himself? Blaine couldn't let his attraction to him cloud his brain. He had to be ready for whatever Kurt needed him to be.

Kurt was standing at the unlocked front door, looking at Blaine's car with a raised eyebrow, so Blaine turned the engine off and grabbed his satchel before following.

"Everything alright?" Kurt asked, watching Blaine closely as he slid inside.

"Yes, yes, sorry, I was..."

But Blaine didn't get to finish his sentence, because suddenly Kurt was pressing him against the closed door, kissing him. His lips were hungry, demanding, insistent on Blaine's, and Blaine barely had time to react and try to kiss back before Kurt was changing the angle, deepening the kiss, trying to lick into his mouth.

Blaine moaned helplessly, both out of frustration and pleasure, and Kurt pulled away with a low groan. "I've been thinking about doing that all day..."

"No, no, come back..." Blaine whispered, moving one of his hands to the back of Kurt's neck to pull him back.

"Wait a minute," Kurt said, looking down at himself. His clothes were a mess after working all day, and he was covered in dust from knocking the wall down. "I'm so gross."

"No, you're perfect. Just kiss me some more..." Blaine whined, chasing his lips.

Kurt chuckled. "Patience is a virtue, Anderson," he said, smugly.

"You're such a tease," Blaine protested weakly.

With another laugh, Kurt gave him one last quick peck and stepped away from Blaine's arms. "I'm going to take a shower and then we can have dinner? I'm starving."

"Sure. Do you want me to cook something...?" Blaine offered, but Kurt shook his head.

"No, no. I've got it. You can just grab something to drink from the fridge and watch TV or whatever," Kurt couldn't resist another quick peck. "I'll be right back."

Blaine bit his lip as he watched him walk up the stairs. "I miss you already," he muttered, and then he immediately blushed as soon as he realized Kurt must have heard him, because he was smiling at him over his shoulder, half amused, half pleased.

Once he could hear Kurt moving around upstairs, Blaine put his satchel down, and went to the kitchen to grab a drink. Kurt's fridge was full of healthy food, lots of vegetables, several kinds of juice, and water. Blaine thought back to how fit Kurt's naked body, how he had the right amount of muscle in all the right places. It made sense that Kurt was careful with what he ate. Blaine poured some water into a glass and then went back to the living room.

He was going to sit on the couch and watch some TV until Kurt came back, but he was instantly drawn to the bookcase on the opposite wall instead. He put his water down on the coffee table, and then examined the books Kurt owned. He didn't have as many as Blaine did (probably no one else in Ohio owned as many books as he did), but they were lots of classics, and a few contemporary titles from authors Blaine was very interested in. He found Kurt's copy of Catcher in the Rye and pulled it out, flipping through the pages carefully. There were a lot of highlighted quotes, and that made Blaine smile. Though he wasn't one to scribble on books (he considered that to be a sacrilege, but he could forgive Kurt for it), knowing Kurt had wanted to remember something in particular from a story that had obviously touched him, sent warmth through him.

The pictures displayed on the shelves caught his attention next. He recognized Kurt's father in most of them. There were a few that featured a little boy who could only be Kurt, with a beautiful woman who had the same color of hair, eyes and fair skin, and others with a teenage Kurt with a different woman and a very tall boy. He saw a few pictures that looked a lot more recent, probably taken in the last couple of years, and it broke Blaine's heart to realize that, while in the older pictures Kurt looked full of life, smiling brightly at the camera, in the newest ones his smile was forced, and the light drained from his eyes. It was the difference between a Kurt with all his hopes and dreams intact, and a Kurt who had seen them all shattered.

"I should've guessed you'd be looking at my books instead of watching TV," Blaine spun around to see Kurt coming down the stairs, his hair damp and unstyled, wearing loose pajama pants, a soft, blue t-shirt, and an even softer (and so unusual – gosh, Blaine couldn't believe he was allowed to see him like this) smile.

He was so beautiful.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Blaine shrugged, apologetically, as he put The Catcher in the Rye back where he had found it.

"As long as you weren't judging..." Kurt muttered as he walked into the kitchen, his bare feet silent as moved.

"Not at all," Blaine said, smiling. "You have really good taste."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, of course I do. Was that ever in question?" He opened the fridge and scanned the contents for a moment. "So, I was thinking we could have some tuna, rice, a few vegetables... does any of that sound good to you? I have turkey too, if you don't like fish..."

"Tuna's fine," Blaine replied, leaning against the wall. "Are you sure you want to cook right now? You must be so tired after working all day. I can go get some take-out..."

"I like cooking," Kurt said as he gathered the ingredients he needed. "It relaxes me after a long day."

"Okay, then how can I help?" Blaine looked around, as if he was waiting for one of the vegetables to start bouncing on the counter, screaming chop me, chop me.

"I don't want you to do anything," Kurt laughed, filling a pot with water for the rice. "Just talk to me while I cook. Usually I just put on the TV in the background, but there's only so much arguing I can do with fictional characters that won't fight back."

Blaine knew it was supposed to be a joke, but it still sent a pang to his chest, because he was intimately familiar with how much it sucked to always be alone. He was used to it, but for some reason, he felt that someone like Kurt shouldn't have to know what it was like to not have anyone to love.

"I know exactly what you mean," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "It doesn't get any more pathetic than yelling at football games on the TV, when you're all alone."

"Ugh, you're one of those, too?" Kurt's nose scrunched adorably. "You'd get along so well with my dad and my stepbrother. I swear whenever there's a Buckeyes game on, it's like watching one of those wildlife documentaries happening right on our couch."

"I resent that. Just because Buckeyes fans are passionate, it doesn't mean we can't behave like human beings..." Blaine said teasingly.

"And you like the Buckeyes," Kurt mumbled under his breath. "Of course you do."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Blaine asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"For some reason you're already pretty much at the top of my Dad's favorite people list," Kurt explained, as he put the tuna in a pan. "If he finds out about this, I wouldn't be surprised if he adopted you."

Blaine laughed. "We've only met once."

"That's enough for Burt Hummel to know if you're worth his time," Kurt said solemnly.

Blaine felt himself blushing a bit. "Well... I'm honored. He seems to be a fantastic man."

"He is," Kurt didn't even hesitate. "I like to think that having such an amazing father was my reward for all the other crap that happened in my life. And even if they're more numerous, I still win..."

Blaine's hazel eyes followed Kurt as he moved in the tiny kitchen, working. He felt his heart thumping against his ribcage. "I'm glad you have him, then. I hope he knows how lucky he is too..."

"Oh, I don't think he's lucky. He deserved to have a kid who made things easier for him," Kurt wasn't looking at him as he talked, busy chopping carrots.

"I'm sure he wouldn't exchange you for the world..." Blaine whispered, but when he noticed how Kurt had stiffened, probably trying to hold back his emotions, he decided to look for a new topic. "How long has he been married to Carole?"

Kurt told him his family's story as he cooked, and Blaine was happy to lean against the counter and listen, while Kurt talked about his amazing dad, how sweet his stepmother was, and how he still hadn't managed to teach Finn that wearing a brown leather belt with black dress shoes was a fashion crime. He insisted on setting the table while Kurt told him about the one time he'd had to wear Finn's clothes to school for three days after he'd lost a bet and Blaine couldn't help but laugh at how Kurt cringed as he described the outfits.

"It wasn't funny, Anderson. I cannot rock puffy vests," Kurt huffed, as he placed the food on the small table.

Blaine took his seat. "If anyone can pull it off, I'm sure it's you."

"Oh, shush and come eat," Kurt rolled his eyes.

For a couple of minutes, the only sounds were the forks against the plates, and Blaine's hums of appreciation as he ate. After a few mouthfuls, Blaine took a sip of water and looked at Kurt, pensively. He adjusted his glasses on his nose.

"I... Kurt?" Kurt, who was chewing, raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Is this... is this a date?"

Kurt put his fork down and dabbed at his lips with a napkin, carefully. "I don't know, Blaine. Do you want it to be?"

Blaine couldn't make himself say it, even though it was just a tiny, three-letter word, so he simply nodded, hazel eyes fixed on Kurt hopefully.

It was obvious Kurt was trying to look serioys, but his lips were curling up into a smile anyway. "Then maybe it is."

Maybe had never sounded so good to Blaine before.