March: London (Part 2)

Everything was ready.

Kurt was aware that yes, he had probably packed far too much for just three days but his motto was, Always be prepared. That, and Every moment of your life is an opportunity for fashion, something that he'd carried with him since his high school days.

All he needed now was to call Blaine to make the final arrangements to meet, and he could be on his way in less than a few hours. He would be lying if he said he wasn't jumping for joy at the mere thought of their impending travel arrangements.

To be thorough, he had packed for three types of weather; heat, cold and rain. He knew that the weather in Britain was subject to change rapidly and often without warning, so he had tried to anticipate that and packed a few of his cosier cashmere sweaters and an umbrella, just in case, along with jeans that he didn't mind getting wet. So it was fair to say that he was ready for anything that London might decide to throw at him.

On Thursday night, he called Blaine. He knew it was late; it was 11pm. He hoped Blaine would still be awake, but judging by his round-the-clock shift, he probably would be. But the last thing Kurt wanted was to disturb him if he was trying to get some sleep.

"Hey." Blaine said sleepily. "I didn't think you'd be up this late."

"I was just thinking the same thing about you. I hope I didn't disturb you, you sound tired." Kurt replied, putting aside the order forms for violet taffeta. He hoped he wouldn't wake Rachel, who had gone back to sleeping on the couch in the living room after the initial shock of her fight with Jesse had worn off.

"Oh, this? It's nothing. I'll just sleep on the plane tomorrow." Blaine said, yawning loudly. Tomorrow. He was seeing Blaine tomorrow. No matter how many times he was reminded of it, it still felt like the first time and it never failed to make him feel warm all over.

"Don't you ever get sick of flying?" Kurt asked, curious. He wondered if it was possible to get bored of something you did every single day. One of his first part-time jobs, before he landed his internship at Vogue, had been as a waiter in this tiny little café. He drank tea for three months whilst he worked there because he couldn't stand to see a cup of coffee after he came home from his shifts.

"I wouldn't say it was my first choice for a career, but now I really enjoy it. I wouldn't say I got sick of it. I think it's different when you're staff compared to when you're a passenger. I don't go on vacation a lot because I have to stay here and take care of my mom, so I don't get a lot of opportunities to fly when I'm not working." Blaine explained. "I guess I don't really know the difference."

"I'd miss not going on vacation. Though I have to admit I don't really do that any more because the only time I fly anywhere is with work, too. Can you believe that Rome was my first vacation in nearly two years?"

"No way! I don't believe that." Blaine replied.

"It's true. And it was worth it, believe me." Kurt hinted.

"Oh, I believe you. It was worth it for me, too." Blaine said. Kurt allowed himself a smile.

"So, I.....I guess I'll see you tomorrow." Kurt said.

"I'll see you tomorrow." repeated Blaine.

Tomorrow. Kurt couldn't wait. He felt like a kid at Christmas time again, only this was so much better than that. Because it wasn't an inanimate gift waiting for him, but a boyfriend. A boyfriend and a man that he was almost one hundred percent sure he was falling for.

****************************************************************************

Kurt awoke far too early to be considered healthy the following morning due to excitement buzzing throughout his body. I definitely feel like a little kid at Christmas, he thought to himself as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Rachel was probably still asleep - the girl slept like a log - but he was now wide awake.

He was never one to lounge around (unlike his stepbrother) doing nothing, so instead of lying there unproductively he decided that he might as well get up and do something. The clock on his nightstand said 5:34am. It wasn't even past six yet. Might as well take a shower.

Sliding out of bed, he crept across the carpet to his ensuite bathroom - one of the few perks that came with his apartment - and turned on the shower. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for the water to heat to the desired temperature inside the machine before pressing the power button. He stripped off his pyjamas and slipped under the hot stream of water within seconds - years of practice - and relished the way the spray jolted him out of sleep.

Then again, taking a bath also had its privileges, he reminded himself.

He was finished within minutes, jumping out from under the water and wrapping a towel around his waist whilst he searched for a change of clothes. He was leaving work early to be in time for his flight, but that didn't mean he couldn't look his best for the time he was actually spending there. After much deliberation and a quick look outside to check the state of the weather, which was fairly warm, he finally chose a pair of light tan pants and a simple pressed white shirt. The lighter fabric would stop him from getting too hot during the day whilst still looking sophisticated and businesslike.

The next order of business was breakfast, but he was wary of waking Rachel if he turned on the coffee maker. The damn thing was far too noisy, especially first thing in the morning, and he hated it but yet how could he live without his coffee? Anyone who had seen him running on anything less than caffeine would agree that it would not be a pretty sight.

In the end, he thought to hell wit her, I let her sleep on my couch and went into the kitchen, meaning to check on Rachel first just to see if she was okay. She appeared to be fast asleep, face-down on the blankets with her dark hair spread across the pillow. There were smudges of lipstick and mascara on the edge of the blanket, which Kurt was going to have to wash when he came back. Oh well.

As he made breakfast, he checked and re-checked a mental list of everything he was going to need for the next three days to make sure that he'd remembered everything. There was nothing worse than forgetting something when you were going somewhere important; he knew that from experience. Clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, underwear, travel documents, tickets, passport......I think that's everything. Isn't it? He'd booked the same flight as Blaine immediately after their phone call on Wednesday - he knew already which one it was - so that they would be sure of travelling together. He was surprised that he'd managed to secure a last-minute ticket - and a good seat - so easily.

That was the beauty of working for one of the biggest fashion magazine companies in the world.

Deciding he might as well leave something for Rachel when she woke up, he made her the usual coffee and put it in a silver thermos he kept in the cupboard above the sink, so that it wouldn't get cold.

It was now 6:30am and he still had at least forty-five minutes before he had to leave for the Vogue offices if he wanted to be there for 8:45am. He was nothing if not punctual but he decided that he might as well take the time to savour the morning and the alone time. He was usually so busy in the mornings.

Taking his coffee and a bagel, he sat down in the armchair opposite the couch. It sank a little when he sat in it because the springs were broken but he didn't really mind. It was the only thing in the apartment, apart from the noisy coffee maker, that was less than perfect.

Rachel suddenly gave a loud snore and Kurt jumped, cursing under his breath as he narrowly avoided spilling coffee over his clean pants. It's a good thing you're my best friend, or I probably would have kicked you out for that, he thought in Rachel's direction, but she seemed unperturbed and slept on peacefully. Ignorance is bliss.

He must have sat there longer than he thought, because the alarm on his phone started beeping to let him know that it was time for him to leave or else he'd be late. He'd installed the alarm after his first week at the job, when he'd realised that plenty of time was needed to negotiate the traffic on the streets of New York city early in the morning. It had been a lifesaver (and job saver) ever since.

Dumping his empty mug in the sink, he put the thermos of coffee on the table next to Rachel and quickly went to the bathroom, grabbed his coat and keys and a small number of enormous files, and he was out of the apartment.

Getting to work wasn't as easy. Unfortunately, the streets were twice as busy as they usually were and traffic was moving slowly. And if there was one thing that Kurt hated, it was slow-moving traffic. He'd never had much patience as a driver and was prone to road rage. Pulling up in a long line of cars at a set of traffic lights, he sighed to himself, resting his chin in his hand. His files and papers were stacked in a pile on the passenger's seat next to him.

How long does it take to get through a set of traffic lights? He thought, peering through the windscreen to see if he could spot anything up ahead. He felt restless, his good mood with which he'd woken up rapidly evaporating. Can it just be five o'clock already? I shouldn't have bothered going into work today, but there's so much that needs to be done and it has to be done before I leave.

The line moved up a tiny amount and the driver behind Kurt bumped into the back of his car. He gritted his teeth and glared at the offending driver via the rear view mirror, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel irritably. This is not what I was expecting when I got up this morning.

Kurt waited in annoyance until the line of traffic started moving again, albeit at snail's pace, and tried to suppress his bad mood. He focused instead on London and Blaine and the next three days which would be blissfully work-free.

He held that thought at the front of his mind as he finally arrived at the Vogue offices, ten minutes late but in a slightly better mood.

The work day didn't really start until 8:30am anyway, he had half an hour if he wished to take some time before storming in with business to attend to and a magazine to work for. If he was honest, he took more than a little pleasure from scaring the new interns by pretending that he was the Devil incarnate when really, everyone at the office seemed to like him. It certainly spiced up slow, sluggish work days where there wasn't really anything major going on that he was needed for.

He greeted Victoria at her desk, to which she replied, "Someone's unusually chipper. Did you put vodka in your coffee this morning?"

He just looked at her with a raised eyebrow and went into his office, depositing his coat and the armful of files he'd carried all the way from the parking lot.

Afterwards, everything was.....well, really boring. He'd always said that he'd never found working at Vogue to be unexciting, but today was just more banal than others for some reason. Maybe it was because he knew that come tonight, he would be heading to London, England with his new boyfriend and anything else seemed unimportant by comparison.

But still, he grimaced and got on with what needed to be done. Kurt was nothing less than efficient and despite not being particularly enthusiastic, he worked non-stop through most of the morning and only stopped for lunch at 1pm. Even that was short-lived, because he was suddenly called in to review a collection of fabrics that the magazine was considering buying for a feature in the next issue. (Yes, they really were planning for the April issue already).

But as the minutes and the hours ticked by and it got closer and closer to Kurt's time to leave for the airport, he forgot about the daily grind of the office and allowed himself to relax at the prospect of a vacation - a vacation where he wasn't single and lonely for the first time. It felt good.

As an added bonus, nobody at work knew and so he could keep it a secret, his own personal talisman that he carried with him. If you'd told him a year before that he would be sitting at his desk waiting to leave on a flight with another man whom he liked and who liked him back, he would probably have laughed. It had been insane to imagine, something that he'd dreamed of, something that he'd like to do, but would probably never happen.

Until, of course, he met Blaine.

Finally, finally, finally it was 4pm and Kurt was allowed to leave. He practically ran out of the office and down to his car, something that would have made him wince internally from embarrassment if it had been any other situation. Throwing himself (and his files) into the driver's seat, he only hoped he wouldn't go over the speed limit as he headed home to pick up his suitcase and travel documents.

It was ridiculous, really, the way he was behaving. But he couldn't help it.

When he got to his apartment, he found Rachel still on the sofa in his borrowed clothes, wrapped in one of the blankets he'd given her. It didn't look like she'd moved from that spot since this morning. The empty thermos was sat next to her.

"Oh, Kurt, you're home." she called, rubbing her face. "How was work?"

"The usual." he said simply, putting his coat on the hook on the back of the door. "Have you moved from the couch today?"

"Only to use the bathroom." Rachel replied. "I didn't feel like doing anything."

I know that feeling, Kurt thought. I know that feeling all too well.

"D'you want some more coffee?" Kurt asked, gesturing to the empty thermos. He had a little time before he had to leave; it was roughly forty minutes to the airport. His flight wasn't until 7:25pm anyway and he was meeting Blaine around 5pm.

"That would be nice." Rachel nodded, and Kurt felt for her. He may never have been locked out in the rain by a boyfriend - or a fiancé, for that matter - but he could understand how she felt. He set about making her coffee and whilst it was brewing he went to fetch his suitcase and put it by the door, so that he was able to grab it on his way out.

He handed Rachel the steaming mug a few minutes later, and she took it gratefully.

"You can stay here as long as you want, okay?" Kurt said. "Well, at least, you can stay until I get back. But you're going to have to go back to Jesse sometime."

"I know, I know, it's just.....I have too much pride." Rachel replied. "Going back there would mean admitting defeat."

"You don't always have to be so stubborn, you know." Kurt suggested. Rachel stared at him. "And I know, I'm not really in a position to say anything about being stubborn but maybe you need to be the bigger man, or in this case woman, for once."

"Thanks, Kurt." she said softly. He indulged in the sudden compulsion to reach out and stroke her hair away from her face, something that he used to do years ago when she was upset. Rachel smiled at the action, then looked up at him.

"Go on, you have a plane to catch." She jerked her head in the direction of the door. "I'll be fine." Kurt returned her smile.

"Okay, I gotta go - and remember, be the bigger woman, okay?" he said, grasping the handle of his suitcase and slinging his coat and the bag he intended to use as hand luggage over his arm.

"Go!" she demanded, almost laughing, and in the end Kurt gave in.

He got to his car in record time, even for him, and played with the radio as he drove the now-familiar route to New York JFK.

His cellphone beeped and hummed where it sat in the glove pocket and, careful of the road and the traffic, he released one hand from the wheel to check the message he'd just received.

I'm nearly there :) See you soon! - Blaine

He smiled to himself, feeling the anticipation build deep within his chest and in his stomach, a fluttering feeling akin to nervousness. It was as if his stomach and heart were butterflies, their wings beating out an excited tempo within him.

Who knew that a simple text message, a few words, could rouse such a reaction from him?

**********************************************************************************

New York JFK airport seemed brighter, more open and spacious. He knew that it was only his mind playing tricks on him, of course - it was as plain and unexciting as always, the white of the walls dirty, the lights blinding - but that's the way it appeared to Kurt as he walked in the direction of the check-in desks lined against one wall of the cavernous departures hall.

For once, he didn't mind queueing.

Even when he found himself behind a large woman with two annoying children who kept fighting, slapping and kicking and, once, biting each other.

Even when the elderly man behind him sneezed loudly and sprayed the air with his infectious germs.

Even when another, different woman ran her suitcase into his heels, effectively catching the back of his shoes and nipping the sensitive skin there, which would surely leave a red mark afterwards.

His cellphone beeped and vibrated in his pocket.

I'm right behind you. Don't scream. - Blaine

Kurt whipped around almost immediately, nearly injuring his neck in the process, and drew in a huge breath because there was Blaine, just as his text message had said, standing behind him with his usual Hollywood-white smile, clutching a deep navy travel bag. In his other hand was a large black suitcase. He was still in his regulation blue flight attendant's uniform.

"Miss me?" he asked, a little cocky, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Hello to you, too." he replied.

"Hey, I was just teasing!" Blaine said, nudging Kurt's arm with his own. Kurt had the urge to link their arms together, just so that they were touching properly.

"Mm-hmm, sure."

"Kurt, you're up next." Blaine said, prodding him in the general direction of the check-in desk. He hurried forward, nearly tripping over his suitcase, and went through the standard rhythm of handing the person at the counter his passport and travel documents.

Once that was done, he stepped out of the line so that Blaine could go and check in. He watched as the muscles in Blaine's shoulders and arms flexed as he reached for his own travel documentation from the bag he was carrying and handed it over to the clerk at the desk. Within minutes, he was at Kurt's side.

"Ready? I just need to go change, I'll look suspicious wearing this when I'm not working." Blaine said, gesturing to his uniform.

"Ready." Kurt replied. "I'll wait for you."

"I won't be a minute."

Kurt sat on one of the metal seats nailed to the floor over by the toilets, watching people pass by as he waited for Blaine, who had gone into the men's bathroom. He swung his legs like a child on a swing and self-consciously fixed his shirt and smoothed out non-existent creases in his pants. He didn't know why he felt so anxious about his appearance; Blaine didn't seem to mind what he looked like.

That's because every time he's seen me, I've always looked perfectly presentable. I can't let that slip now. I have a standard to uphold.

Soon enough, Blaine re-appeared, but in his own clothes this time. Kurt had to admire his....quirky taste in fashion. Dark-wash jeans that were rolled up at the ankles and a red sweater which brought out the olive tones in his skin.....and is that a bowtie? Kurt thought. Sure enough, it was; a pale red one. He usually didn't condone bowties on anyone not wearing a finely-cut suit or a toddler, but on Blaine, it worked.

"Nice accessory." Kurt complimented, referring to aforementioned bowtie. Blaine practically beamed.

"Oh, this? Yeah, it's one of my favourites. I know they're a little old-fashioned, but I'm rather partial to them." he said. "I've been collecting since I was in high school."

"Really?" Kurt asked, his inner fashion-obsessive (and Vogue employee) taking over. "How many do you have?"

"About fifty, last time I checked. I can't always get them in mainstream stores so I usually buy them online or from vintage places." Blaine explained, feeling slightly proud.

Kurt stood up, gripping his bag securely. Their suitcases had already been sent on their way to the airplane and would be loaded on without them, as per usual. He smiled widely.

"Shall we? You can tell me more about these vintage stores you find your bowties in." Kurt said, reaching out his arm in the hope that Blaine would link it. He did, and Kurt resisted the urge to let out a little squeal.

"It would be a pleasure." Blaine replied.

They spent the next couple of hours before they were due to board just talking, enjoying each other's company and relishing the time that they had to spend together. Kurt knew immediately that three days would not be enough, that he would need more, but was unable to get it. Coffee in hand, they talked about everything from fashion faux pas to embarrassing teenage crushes, in which Kurt admitted to his less-than-platonic affection for his stepbrother and Blaine confessed to leaving a heartfelt note in the locker of a Senior he had admired, only to be found out later and publicly humiliated in front of the entire student body. They swapped stories of childhood pets, beloved movies and favourite things to do on a rainy day.

In short, it was perfect. And they hadn't even reached London yet.

"Attention passengers, flight 4224 from New York JFK to London Gatwick is now boarding. Please make your way to boarding gate 5."

It was time to board, and Blaine insisted on holding his hand. Kurt didn't protest, but blushed when the woman at the boarding gate gave them a knowing look when she spotted their entwined hands.

They walked that way all the way to the airplane, and only broke apart when they had to take their seats, since movement was restricted when you were attached to another person. After that, however, they were interlocked again, their hands resting together on the armrest between them. Nobody gave them a second glance, and Kurt was grateful. He didn't want small-minded homophobes ruining this vacation for him.

After a while, the rhythm of the plane became soothing and Kurt began to feel tired. It seemed that Blaine felt the same way, since he suddenly yawned loudly in the seat next to him. What is it about planes that makes me want to sleep? Kurt wondered to himself, stretching out his legs and flexing his stiff calves.

He felt Blaine's hand go limp in his own, and he knew that he'd fallen asleep himself. Kurt thought that it was good for him; up close, he could see the faint bags under his eyes and the tiredness of his skin, from working such strange, inconsistent hours. He supposed that the time zones in different parts of the world didn't help your sleep pattern either, and could only guess that Blaine often suffered from jet lag.

He turned to watch him as he slept, leaning against his shoulder in a heavy but not uncomfortable way. He would normally feel like a creep or a stalker, but he didn't think Blaine would mind. He looked impossibly young like this, younger than he really was; whatever it was that aged him had gone from his face. Kurt wondered if he looked the same when he was sleeping.

I want to kiss him, he thought. I want to kiss him right here, right now. But I can't, because he's sleep and everyone's watching. Well, they will be if they aren't already.

Eventually, Kurt's eyelids began to droop as he got closer and closer towards sleep. It'll be one in the morning when we reach England, he reasoned with himself. If I sleep now, I won't be so exhausted later.

With this thought in mind, the warmth of Blaine's body pressing into his side, he succumbed to unconsciousness.

**********************************************************************

The first thing Kurt registered was that he was moving. The second thing he registered was the noise around him that erupted like a volcano, surrounding him on every side.

The third thing he registered was a smooth, warm hand guiding him forward.

"Where are we going?" Kurt mumbled, still half-asleep, and he heard Blaine chuckle behind him.

"We're getting off the plane, Kurt. You're not fully woken yet." he said. Kurt realised then that he wasn't carrying the bag he'd brought onto the plane with him.

"Where's my bag?" he asked, a little too loudly, and Blaine sushed him affectionately.

"Don't worry, I've got it right here. It's not going anywhere."

"Oh, okay."

His mind was foggy with sleep and he wasn't really sure in which direction he was being steered, but they suddenly reached cool air and a light breeze whipped at his face, which told him that they were outside. He took the opportunity to rub at his eyes with his free hand - the other was clutching Blaine's - to clear his vision a little.

"You know, you're cute when you're half-asleep." Blaine observed, watching Kurt as he struggled to bring himself to full wakefulness. I must have really been in a deep sleep. I'm not usually like this when I wake up.

Maybe it's because of who you're with, the little voice in his mind piped up. Maybe you feel comfortable enough that you're acting this way.

He still bumped into several people once inside the Arrivals lounge, however, and had to apologise profusely whilst Blaine did little to hide his mirth.

"Sorry! Wasn't I just saying you were cute?" he said. Kurt glared at him, but he hardly meant it. He was just teasing; he didn't think he could ever be angry with Blaine. It was too hard. So it was more of a mock-glare than anything, but it seemed to have worked.

"Oh, c'mon, you're not mad at me, are you?" Blaine asked sweetly, taking Kurt's suitcase off the conveyor belt with a swing of his (very toned) arm. He must be strong. I wonder if he works out.

"No." Kurt grumbled, playing along for the hell of it. Blaine put an arm around his waist and Kurt momentarily crumbled, inhaling the scent of cashmere wool and medium drip (Blaine's coffee order, he had learned).

"Then you won't want to come and get a cab with me so we can go to our hotel, will you?" he said, his voice taking on a suggestive edge. Blaine had booked them a room at the best hotel he could afford and they had unspoken plans between them to make full use of it - and the city - whilst they were here.

Kurt pretended to give in, letting his shoulders slump.

"Oh, okay then. But only because I like you." he said, swiping his suitcase from Blaine's hand and striding in the direction of a taxi rank he could see outside the window, where half a dozen or so taxis were waiting for their prospective passengers.

He heard Blaine coming up behind him, practically jogging to keep up.

"Not so fast!" he complained, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder to stop him from going any further. "Your legs are so much longer than mine."

"It's not my fault you're a little on the, shall we say.......vertically challenged side." Kurt smirked. Blaine cocked an eyebrow.

"Vertically challenged?" he asked, his eyes bright. Dammit, he's mocking me, Kurt thought. Better level out the playing field here, so to speak.

"Yes. Vertically challenged." Kurt repeated.

"I can't help it if I'm short. My mom's from the Philipines." Blaine said.

"Maybe it's because you drink too much coffee. You know it stunts your growth?"

"I bet you drink just as much coffee as I do, and you're taller than me, so that defeats the object, doesn't it?"

"Are we getting a taxi or not?" Kurt asked.

"I think we have to. My legs are all numb from sitting down for so long." Blaine replied. "C'mon, before somebody else gets one."

They rushed outside - well, as much as they could dragging heavy suitcases behind them ("Thank God this thing's on wheels," Blaine muttered) - and stopped a taxi just as it pulled up right in front of them.

Kurt rapped on the window and the driver - a woman with a long brown plait and crow's feet - pushed open the door.

"Where to, folks?" the woman asked in a voice far too cheery for someone still working at 1am.

"The Mariott Hotel? On George street, near Regent's Park?" Blaine said. Kurt was impressed. He's done his research, he thought. Why didn't I think of doing that? I feel like an idiot now.

"I know it. Hop in, then." the woman said, and Kurt gratefully opened the door of the taxi. They both climbed in, a tangle of suitcases and legs and bodies, and fastened their seatbelts.

London by night was something else entirely. Kurt had only ever seen it in travel brochures and photographs, and it didn't compare at all to the way it was in real life. Tall skyscraper buildings gave way to grey council houses, which then gave way to enormous mansion-style homes that belonged to the city's richest of the rich. Every area was different from the last and no two streets appeared to be the same.

Even though it was past one in the morning, the streets were still busy. Cabs, mostly, like the one they were currently riding in, but also cars and buses and people on the sidewalks. But it felt different to New York. New York was noisy and crowded and polluted. London was noisy and crowded and yet felt.....clean, Kurt supposed. It made you feel good rather than wanting to run to the nearest store to take cover from the cacophony of noise and the smell of vehicle exhaust.

Soon the green curving expanse of Regent's Park came into view, dimly light in the darkness by streetlamps and car headlights. Though you couldn't see much of it from this angle, it appeared to be enormous. Kurt knew from his own general knowledge that there was also a zoo in Regent's Park, so it must have been pretty big.

Suddenly the woman pulled over on the pavement in front of a large, snowy white building. The silver letters across the front read The Mariott Hotel. They were here.

"Here it is, then. That'll be fourteen pounds and sixty pence." she called through the plastic partition separating the passenger seats from the front of the taxi.

Well, this was something that they hadn't discussed beforehand - who would pay for their trip? Why didn't we think to discuss this? Kurt thought in a panic. This is important!

There was a little awkward silence as they seemed to silently debate the issue through eye contact. The woman clicked her tongue impatiently and Kurt had to stop himself from getting annoyed, choosing instead to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a handful of British bank notes, thrusting them in the woman's direction.

"Thank you. Keep the change!" he said, and before he knew it he was being pulled out of the taxi by the arm in a rather ungraceful but not unwelcome manner that made him laugh and stumble on his feet on the side walk, trying to regain his balance.

"Any reason why you decided to yank me out of the cab without warning?" Kurt asked, folding his arms and turning to stare at Blaine hard.

"I wanted to see the look on your face." he shrugged. "Shall we go in or do you not want to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight?"

"Good point."

The hotel was even nicer than the one Kurt had stayed in during his visit to Rome - it might even have been nicer than the one in Athens. Blaine had chosen well, and Kurt told him so as they climbed the stairs - no elevator - up to their room.

"I'm impressed." he commented.

"How come?"

"You've chosen well. The hotel, I mean." Kurt explained, looking around the narrow corridor, decorated in various shades of white with a thick cream carpet underfoot.

"It's a gift." Blaine said. "That and calming crying babies. It comes in useful with so many of my friends having young kids."

They had reached their room. Blaine stepped aside.

"You go first. I insist." he said. A proper gentleman. Where was he raised, Louisiana? Still, I can't complain. I have to say it's.....quite attractive.

Kurt did the honours of unlocking the door using an old-fashioned gold key - no electronics, just like there being no elevator - and as soon as he pushed open the heavy door, he was in heaven.

Oh yes, he thought, this is definitely better than Rome or Athens. I could get used to this.

The room was decorated in different tones of brown, cream and tan; the same carpet that lined the corridors lined the floor of the room, thick and fluffy and incredibly soft under his feet. The draped tan curtains had red sashes tired around them that matched a deep red bedspread and duvet. The sheets, pillows and walls were pure white and the only furniture in the room, a small leather armchair and glass-topped table, were a dark, chocolate brown.

Kurt must have let out a breath of awe because Blaine chuckled from somewhere behind him.

"I did good?" he asked, coming up to rest his chin on Kurt's shoulder, so that their cheeks were almost touching.

"You did perfect." Kurt replied, bobbing sideways to press a chaste kiss to his temple. Blaine grinned against his shoulder, his long eyelashes brushing the fabric of Kurt's shirt. "Let's get into bed."

"I think that's a good idea, or I'll fall asleep right where I am and that won't bode well. I'll probably crush you."

Kurt took Blaine's hand and, with careful movements, began to undress him in the half-light from the single lamp on the nightstand.

"Don't we have to get dressed?" Blaine said. "Pyjamas, I mean."

"Screw pyjamas. I'm too tired and quite frankly, I just want to get into bed with you." Kurt replied, and oh, that totally sounded a lot less dirty in my head. Shit. I hope he doesn't think I want...that. I''m not ready. Not yet.

It seemed like Blaine understood, however, because he simply sat back on the bed and allowed Kurt to take off his clothes; first his sweater, then his undershirt - "Are you seriously wearing an undershirt, Blaine? It's March." - and finally his pants. And then he was down to his underwear and Kurt had to take a moment to gather himself because he looked exactly the same way as Kurt remembered him, all lean muscle and tan skin. You would never suspect it, given his short stature and slender frame.

"Kurt, you're staring at me." Blaine said suddenly, jolting Kurt out of his....ogling, he supposed, was the right word for it.

"Sorry. You're just...you're really something." Kurt said. He swallowed hard. "In a good way."

"I would hope so." came Blaine's quiet reply. "You're wearing too many clothes." he pointed out.

Kurt looked at the floor, a pink flush creeping across his normally pale face.

"You can't be nervous?" Blaine asked softly. "I've seen you naked once, remember? And we're keeping our underwear on."

"I feel inadequate." Kurt confessed.

"Just take your clothes off and lay with me." Blaine said. "I'll be nice, I promise." he added with a wink that made Kurt flush even darker. Why am I acting like a teenager? Like Blaine said, we've done this before. Why am I nervous now?

Kurt fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and pants, nearly ripping them off in the process of removing them. I look and feel like an idiot right now. In the end, Blaine helped him, pulling off the tan slacks with expertise and laying them across the leather armchair, where his own clothes were. Just seeing their clothes together that way made Kurt feel.....special. It made the moment feel more real.

Once they were naked, except for their underwear, they both felt too exhausted to say or do anything else. The bags under Blaine's eyes were painfully visible in the lamplight and Kurt knew that he deserved a proper night's sleep in a proper bed, rather than in an uncomfortable plane seat.

"After you." Blaine insisted, pulling back the deep red duvet. Kurt slid in gratefully, the sheets cool against his flushed skin. The dip of the mattress told him that Blaine had slipped in beside him, his warmth filling the space between them.

They seemed to automatically gravitate towards each other, their bare legs touching, shoulders side by side. It was peaceful, hearing another person's breathing, the rhythm of the inhales and exhales, the rise and fall of their chest. This is what I should feel like all the time, Kurt thought. This right here is what I want.

This is what I've been missing.

*********************************************************************************

The following day, Kurt awoke to the sunlight streaming in through the window and the space next to him empty, an indentation in the pillow where Blaine's head had been. He stretched out his arms and legs, taking up all of the available space, arching his neck and sighing pleasantly.

"You really are like a kitten."

Kurt jumped slightly on the bed as he heard Blaine's voice drift out to him from where he was standing at the foot of the bed, clad only in a towel. His hair was damp from the shower and starting to curl outwards in all directions, giving him the look of an oversized, wide-eyed dog. Okay, I did not just compare him to a domesticated animal. Kurt's gaze followed a rogue droplet of water as it traced a wet path down Blaine's stomach, disappearing into the fabric of the towel at his waist. He didn't even realise he'd licked his lips until he noticed that they were wet.

"Is that a bad thing?"Kurt asked, sitting up and adjusting the duvet so that it covered most of his chest, far too pale in the morning light.

"No, definitely not." Blaine said. "It's a very good thing." Kurt flushed under Blaine's intense gaze, his skin turning a dusky pink. Unfortunately for him - or maybe fortunately - it drew Blaine's attention to his hardened nipples, the definition in his pectoral muscles, and he couldn't look away. Kurt covered up more of himself self-consciously, the domestic, intimate setting making him nervous.

"So what are we doing today?" Blaine asked then, sitting down on the end of the bed and making the mattress springs creak under his weight. Droplets of water dripped onto the duvet, staining the red a dark shade of crimson for a second before vanishing.

"I say we talk a walk." Kurt propositioned. "Regent's Park is right around the corner. Would you care to join me?"

"I wouldn't dream of saying no." Blaine said. He stood up, readjusting the towel, which had slipped to reveal an expanse of smooth, tan skin lightly dusted with sparse dark hair. "I need to go change."

Oh, but I rather like what you're wearing right now, Kurt thought candidly, though he would never dream of saying it out loud.

Blaine padded into the bathroom and Kurt decided that he better get out of bed. He'd never woken this late before, not even on a lazy Sunday morning when there wasn't really anything important that needed doing. The clock on the nightstand read 10:40am.

Making sure that Blaine wasn't going to come out of the bathroom any time soon, he quickly dressed in the shirt from yesterday and a fresh pair of pants, rolling the sleeves up to the elbows as it was fairly warm outside. He pulled on socks and set about doing something with his hair, which had got out of control during the night and now resembled overgrown grass gone wild. After locating his can of hairspray he went about taming it, peering closely into the mirror on the opposite side of the wall.

By the time he'd finished, Blaine had come out of the bathroom and was sitting on the bed, watching him with a half-smile on his face.

"Well." Kurt said, putting the can of hairspray on the table. "I suppose this is as good as it's going to get this morning."

"Oh, stop it, you look fine." Blaine insisted. "We may have missed the breakfast slot but we can always get something out."

"Breakfast out sounds good."

******************************************************************************************

"This is your idea of breakfast?" Kurt asked in disbelief as they sat on one of the many benches in Regent's Park a half hour later, eating ice cream and drinking coffee in matching takeaway styrofoam cups. Kurt naturally had a nonfat mocha; Blaine had his usual medium drip.

"Breakfast food doesn't necessarily have to be eaten for breakfast." Blaine pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. "And anyway, it's a nice day."

"I can't say I expected it, but I like it." Kurt said. "It's.....different."

"Good different or bad different?" Blaine asked. Kurt scooted a few inches up the bench so that he was pressed closer to Blaine's side.

"Definitely good different." he nodded. A light breeze had picked up and was blowing through his less-than-neat hair, but at his point he no longer cared. I really must like him if I don't care that my hair looks like a bird's nest, Kurt thought.

"That's good, then." Blaine said. A comfortable silence fell between them, but Kurt still felt a little awkward regardless. He'd never done this before. It was all new and he kept questioning himself, wanting reassurance that he was doing and saying the right things. The first time you were ever intimate with him, you took a bath together. Surely that means something? A voice in his head told him. It may mean something, but I don't know what that is, Kurt thought in reply. Great, now I'm talking to myself.

"D'you fancy going to the zoo?" was the slightly random question Blaine asked a few moments later, causing Kurt to snort into his coffee and almost spill it over his clean-on pants.

"What's so funny about the zoo?" Blaine asked, unable to hide his amusement at Kurt's display. "I haven't been to one since I was a kid."

"It just took me by surprise, that's all. A man in his twenties who wants to go to the zoo, that's the first time I've heard that." Kurt replied, feeling bad that he'd laughed.

"I happen to like the zoo." Blaine said, miffed. But Kurt hoped that was only teasing. Just to make sure, he nudged his side playfully.

"Alright, we can go to the zoo." Kurt agreed. "If you really want to. Because whatever you want to do, I want to do, too."

"Awesome!" Blaine exclaimed, startling a group of pigeons nearby who scattered into the air in all directions. He cleared this throat self-consciously. "I mean, that would be great."

Kurt shook his head. "You're incredible, Blaine. You're always surprising me."

"That's good, right?" Blaine asked nervously, searching Kurt's face for confirmation that he wasn't a complete idiot and/or overgrown child with a tendency to get carried away.

"Yes, it's good!" Kurt said, linking Blaine's arm with his own. He had long since finished his ice-cream and had tried to aim the tub at a trash can not far away, but failed and couldn't find the energy to walk over and pick it up. Oh, well. I'm too comfortable right now. Screw the environment. His coffee, however, was still warm and there was a little left in the bottom of the cup. Blaine leaned into him and smiled against the soft skin of Kurt's temple. He could feel his warm breath against his cheek, the bitter scent of coffee.

He never wanted to leave.

The thought startled and shocked him all at once. It wasn't something that he was accustomed to. Working 24/7, dealing with whatever crisis Rachel was having and making sure he found time to visit his parents and stepbrother at least twice a year excluding Christmas was difficult. He was always busy, moving from place to place; the office to the coffee shop, back to the office, the bakery round the corner, his apartment, Rachel's apartment, his parents' house in Ohio....he never stopped. The idea of wanting to stay in one place was alien to him. And yet, he couldn't stop himself from thinking it.

"We better get going." Blaine murmured. "Y'know, before it closes....."

"Yeah." Kurt breathed, nodding slightly more enthusiastically than he intended to and probably ending up like one of those insufferable nodding dog toys that people insisted on putting in their cars. Rachel herself had a bobble-head cat doll on the dashboard of her car and it was extremely annoying. He often longed to crush the silly little thing in his fist, but had yet to actually do it just to spare Rachel's feelings.

He obediently followed Blaine as he hailed a taxi from the swarm of black Hackney cabs snaking the roads like bees in a hive, gestured for Kurt to climb in. He directed him to London Zoo with a cheerful smile and all the excitability of a small puppy. There I go with the domesticated animal comparisons again, Kurt thought. I should stop.

Only to discover that the attraction was closed.

"Sorry, I didn't know. Refurbishments, I expect." the driver of the cab apologised. "Bloody council never tell us anything."

He did, however, still expect the full fare for the journey despite their destination being unreachable, and an insistent Blaine handed over the amount with a slightly deflated demeanour. Kurt felt bad; he'd been looking forward to it, something that he hadn't expected.

They got out of the taxi and then realised that they had no idea where they were. Well, Kurt knew that they were near London Zoo, but exactly where that was he didn't know. There was a bus stop across the street, but upon examining it, it didn't really give them any answers.

Kurt sat on the cold yellow seat dejectedly, feeling annoyed and frustrated with himself. The sun from the morning had gone in all of a sudden, and dark grey cloud cover had rolled across the sky, an ominous blanket. Of course it would rain now, Kurt thought, and ruin our plans even more than they already have been.

"I'm sorry." he said after a moment.

Blaine turned to him, confused. "What for?"

"Ruining our plans. I should have done some research before we came. I feel like an idiot." Kurt replied, his shoulders slumped where he sat, his back bowed in what felt like shame.

"Hey, c'mon, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known."

"But you were so excited! And I was too, because you were, and-" Kurt began, but was swiftly cut off by Blaine's finger pressed against his lips, effectively silencing him.

"It's okay." Blaine said. "We don't need to go to some fancy attraction to have a good time. I just want to spend time with you."

Kurt smiled despite his blackened mood. "I think I can make that happen."

"Are you hungry?" Blaine asked then.

"We just ate." he pointed out.

"Not properly. There's got to be a restaurant around here somewhere. We'll go someplace nice." Blaine said. Kurt had a sudden thought, a smile creeping across his face.

"Why don't we just....go back to the hotel? We can get room service....." he let his sentence trail off there, hoping that Blaine would catch the double meaning of his words. After all, we paid for that bed. We should use it appropriately. Well semi-appropriately.

Blaine involuntarily licked his lips in an action that made Kurt's nerve-endings quiver. It's not even noon yet! He told his rampant mind. Calm down! He wasn't sure if he was actually talking to his own mind or to himself. Either way, he needed to distract himself whilst still keeping up the pretence in the hope that Blaine would catch on.

He didn't.

He sort of looked at Kurt in this intense, half-amused way through his stupidly long eyelashes - Kurt would forever marvel over those eyelashes - his lips not quite a smile, but not quite a smirk either. It did funny things to Kurt's insides and made his legs feel like jello and lead simultaneously.

Okay, so maybe he did catch on to Kurt's intentions.

They both spoke at the same time.

"We should-"

"Let's-"

Kurt wrung his hands, suddenly feeling awkward. Blaine covered them with his own, and Kurt was then very aware that Blaine's hands were resting in his lap. No, correction - Blaine hands were resting on his crotch and God, did it feel good.

Reminding himself firmly that they were sitting in a public bus stop in plain view of the street, he stood up and brushed down his pants, his skin stinging with the heat of Blaine's palms. He felt a little cold; there was a chill in the air.

"Cold?"

"A little." Kurt said. If that isn't an invitation for you to come stand close to me, I don't know what is.

"Then we'll go back to the hotel and order room service.....put on the TV and not watch it......" The suggestion was thick in the air; Kurt could tell that Blaine was nervous, his cheeks dark pink and flushed.

"You are bold today." Kurt commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't mock me."

"I wasn't! It was merely an observation." Kurt replied.

"Sure."

"I mean it! Are you coming or what? We might as well find a cab to take us back to the hotel. Again. But I'm paying this time."

"No, you're not. I keep telling you, this is my gift to you." Blaine said.

"That doesn't seem fair." Kurt said.

"I want to do this for you." Blaine replied. "Just let me?" The way he was looking at Kurt, it was impossible to resist his offer. The things he does to me....they're unlike anything else I've ever experienced. They're unlike anything else I probably ever will experience.

"Okay." Kurt breathed. His warm breath formed a cloud in the rapidly cooling air and he watched Blaine watching him, each trying to gauge the other's thoughts and reactions.

And then it felt awkward again.

"We should probably flag down that cab...." Kurt said. Blaine smiled, his huge, white smile that made Kurt tingle right down to his toes.

"We should." was his reply.

Blaine certainly made good on his offer.

They lay sprawled across the vast bed, already in their pyjamas despite it only being one o'clock - Kurt had taken some convincing but in the end he'd given in, changing out of his clothes and relishing in the comfort that only being in pyjamas could provide. The TV was turned to a re-run of The Real Housewives of Orange County and surrounding them were takeaway boxes of Chinese food. Who knew a hotel could deliver Chinese food right to the door of your room? And they didn't stop at Chinese cuisine either; they also offered room service of Indian, Thai, Indonesian, Lebanese, Italian, and Mexican food as well as their regular restaurant menu and all-day breakfast.

Kurt could have eaten until the waist of his pyjama pants became tight and he felt as if he might burst, it was all that delicious but he didn't because he didn't want to appear greedy or slobbish in front of Blaine. There was nothing more unbecoming than appearing greedy in front of someone you liked. Especially someone that you liked a lot and might possibly even be falling for.

He half-heartedly threw the boxes into the trash when they were finished, too full and content to bother to get up and actually place them in the waste basket provided in the room.

"Getting lazy?" Blaine observed from his spot on the bed.

"I don't see you getting up any time soon." Kurt retorted.

Blaine raised one of his thick eyebrows. "Touché."

"You know, touché comes from the French meaning 'to touch.'" Kurt said. "And I've just realised you probably didn't need to know that."

"No, no, it's fine. It's interesting." Blaine replied. "I never took French at school, they didn't offer it. Not in private school, anyway. It was either Latin or German, and in my old public school I had to take Spanish."

Kurt pulled a face. "I did, too, until I managed to convince the school secretary to let me take French instead. I hated Spanish. French was much more my kind of thing."

"And the reasons behind your choice of career in fashion become clearer." Blaine said.

"Yet your career choice of flight attendant still remains shrouded in mystery." Kurt replied.

"I'll tell you one day, I promise."

"You better keep that promise."

"I intend to."

A moment passed. Kurt was very aware of the close proximity of Blaine's body, the heat of it seeping through the thin cotton pyjamas he was wearing, through the duvet and mattress. Any closer, and their bare toes would be touching. Kurt wondered absently if Blaine's feet would be warm, or cold like his own (he'd tried all manner of things to boost circulation but nothing seemed to work).

He spoke before he realised what he was saying. "Come here."

His voice was barely above a whisper, tentative, but before he realised it Blaine was half-sitting, half-lying in his lap, their legs tangled together like jungle vines and their chests pressed together. Kurt knew that it was the middle of the day; that it was broad daylight, the thin light from the weak sun coming in through the open window. And yet, being here, it felt like it was the darkest hour of the night and it was just them, the two of them, with nobody else around. And yes, he knew that they were in a hotel and the hustle and bustle of the city below their window was a constant hum and buzz, but that didn't matter to Kurt.

He could feel Blaine's soft breath on his neck, the tip of his nose nuzzling the skin between his throat and collarbone. This is one of those times when having a partner who's shorter than you comes in useful, Kurt thought. Did I just use the word 'partner'? What am I, forty? But I don't know how else to describe it.

Almost on autopilot, he felt himself turn his head, searching out Blaine's lips with his own. He ducked his head so that he and Blaine were at eye level, his palm coming up to cup his jaw with light fingertips as he pressed his lips to Blaine's.

Not bothering to keep his mouth closed, the kiss was hot and wet and everything Kurt had hoped it would be, had expected it to be, their lips moulding around each other as if their lives depended on it. Soft and warm, smooth yet rough, the hand on Blaine's jaw tightened its grip and Blaine responded by kissing harder, allowing the tip of his tongue to trace the inside of Kurt's mouth, flicking across his bottom lip and up across the roof of his mouth, ticklish but gentle and making the tiny hairs on the back of Kurt's neck stand on end. Kurt shifted position so that their hips and legs were better aligned, and gasped into Blaine's mouth when he felt his arousal pressed hard against his own, the thin material doing nothing to mask the heat and the sensitivity when Kurt slid forward of his own volition, so that he was almost on top of Blaine on the bed.

They continued to kiss, barely coming up for air, sharing each other's breath and feeling each other pant and groan low in their chests, a rumbling sound that passed between them and intensified each moment. I can't believe I'm actually doing this. I can't believe I'm actually doing this right now. He jumped when he felt Blaine's hands tracing down the sides of his back and across to that sensitive spot right at the base of his spine, placing his palm wide over the skin as if wanting to hold Kurt in place. His fingers were dangerously close to the waistband of Kurt's pyjama pants and the anticipation was as thrilling as his kisses.

They remained like this for several minutes, Kurt breaking away to place a path of fluttering kisses up Blaine's throat and jaw, ending just behind his ear before continuing back down to his lips. The action made Blaine shudder beneath him, his whole body shifting and pushing their hips closer together, so that their heated, hard lengths slid against each other in a way that made Kurt gasp again, his face and neck flushing rosy pink in the daylight from the window.

Blaine seemed to think of something, and sat up a little. Kurt looked at him questioningly. Oh God, please don't suggest we call this off. It was going so well and I want to keep doing it.

Blaine's throat went dry as he fought to form the right words. "I think we should....d'you mind if I......" He swallowed hard, the movement making his Adam's apple bob up and down in a way that really shouldn't have appeared erotic. "We should put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door."

Kurt almost laughed because, oh my God, that's just typical Blaine. He's so.....considerate, even when we're probably about to have sex.

Holy crap, I'm about to have sex.

"Good idea." Kurt said, nodding more than he probably should have. He was nervous, okay? He crawled back on the bed, sitting on his haunches and watching as Blaine crossed the room to hang said sign on the door so that anyone passing by would know they didn't want to be interrupted. It suddenly all felt very real; he wondered if he should speed things up by removing his pyjamas then and there, but was saved from the decision by Blaine, who looped his arms around Kurt's waist, resting their foreheads together. Kurt's arms were now trapped between them, his hands against the smooth, flat planes of Blaine's stomach.

Within seconds his mouth was back on Kurt's, soft and giving, the temperature between them sky high as the heat of their hyper-aroused bodies mingled in the air. He could see, could feel Blaine's hardness between his thighs, which matched his own and gave him no reason to be embarrassed. Letting his eyes drift closed, he allowed his hands to wander across the shape of Blaine's body through his clothes, feeling the muscles twist and expand and retract underneath the skin. He dug his hands under the collar of his pyjama shirt to feel his shoulder blades, traced an extended index finger around his navel, making him twitch and arch away from the ticklish touch.

And then, as soon as he'd started on his exploration, Blaine tugged at the hem of Kurt's shirt so that his arms were held above his head, his shirt half-off, and he could see Blaine's wicked grin over the top of the material. Suddenly the shirt was off and falling to the floor in a soft thud and Blaine bowed his head to kiss the pale skin of Kurt's chest and stomach, his lips like feathers across his sensitive skin and shooting sparks of delight right down to his groin, which became fuller and harder with every passing second. This really is going to happen. I'm going to sleep with a flight attendant I only formally acknowledged my feelings for a month ago. This isn't me. But it feels so good that I don't even care.

He let himself be laid down on the bed, his legs coming up instinctively to wrap themselves around Blaine's waist. The weight of his feet pushed down Blaine's pyjama pants, and they came into contact with his ass. It was a shock to Kurt and he froze for a second, just long enough for Blaine to ask him if something was wrong.

"We don't have to do this right now, you know." he said, his voice low and full of sincerity.

"I want to." Kurt said quickly. "My foot collided with your ass and it surprised me." Why did I say that?

"So that's what that was!" Blaine said, laughing. "It surprised me, too. You have cold feet."

"Sorry." Kurt swallowed. "I didn't say you had to stop."

"Okay, then. I won't."

And Blaine's lips returned to his own, Kurt curling a hand around the back of his neck and playing with the curls that had come free there. Kurt experimentally dragged his foot up the back of Blaine's leg, stopping only when he reached the underside of his thigh. Blaine groaned in protest, pulling Kurt's own legs around his waist tighter, effectively dragging their erections together. Kurt let out a cry of what could only be described as overwhelming pleasure as the sensitive tip came into contact with Blaine's own, feeling the sticky, damp patch where pre-come had leaked through his pyjama pants. He ought to be cringing like a teenager, but he wasn't.

Kurt decided that Blaine was wearing too many clothes, and pulled at his shirt until he complied and took it off, allowing it to land wherever he threw it over his shoulder. It was only pyjamas; he'd get to it later. Now bare from the waist up, the hypersensitivity was dizzying; coupled with the insistent pressure on his erection from the drag and push of Blaine's hips as he moved, he felt himself losing all control of his body. He needed to remove the last remaining restrictions - his pyjama pants - before he went completely crazy.

"Pants off." he gasped, too inarticulate to say anything else. He didn't care about being eloquent right now. "Please." he added as an afterthought.

"Your wish is my command." Blaine murmured against his sweat-damp skin, and in one smooth motion his pyjama pants disappeared, leaving him utterly naked. Kurt resisted the urge to cover himself with his hands and let them fall at his sides as Blaine removed his own pants and then they were both naked, bare to the world. The air tingled coolly on his hot skin.

The magnitude of the situation was not lost on Kurt.

"D'you have any.....?" Kurt started, the words lost on his lips.

"No." Blaine admitted. "But I can improvise. I won't hurt you. I-I don't think I could, even if I wanted to. And I don't want to."

"That's good." Kurt said. Blaine smiled at him and Kurt knew that he could trust him. He hadn't trusted anyone.....physically for a long time. He'd never really found the right person to trust.

He didn't have much time to think beyond that, however, as Blaine had ducked between his legs and his lips were suddenly brushing across the insides of Kurt's thighs, barely touching the surface but enough to make Kurt squirm and pant and wriggle on the bed. I feel like a newborn baby, he thought.

But newborn babies don't usually have someone's tongue on their ass.

Kurt almost yelped as he felt Blaine's warm, wet tongue pass over the sensitive skin of his crack, the tip just tracing the edge of his hole. Blaine pressed his tongue flat over it, working Kurt to a feverish high that left him gasping and fisting the sheets in his hands. He'd never felt anything like it before and he wanted more.

Blaine continued to work at his ass and hole, taking care to make sure that Kurt was properly open and ready for him. He knew that it was a poor substitute for lubricant but he did his best, pushing the warm muscle inside and wetting as best he could, moving his tongue in circles to stretch Kurt out as much as possible. The latter panted and groaned above him, unable to remain in control of his mind or his body.

Kurt's breath came hard and fast as Blaine moved from his ass, pressing kisses into his stomach as he went, moving to lie in between Kurt's spread legs. He looked at Kurt, eyes bright and wide and shining in the light coming from the window, an unspoken question; Are you sure?

Kurt nodded in silent response, and then found the ability to speak. "I've never been so sure of anything in, well...a long time, and it scares me, but I know I am. Sure."

"I'm sure, too."

With careful movements, he aligned himself with Kurt's long body - a difficult feat since he was three inches shorter and therefore had shorter limbs - and pressed his face into Kurt's shoulder, inhaling his scent. Sensing that Blaine was nervous and even a little reluctant, Kurt reached between them to take the heavy, hard weight of him into his hand, guiding him gently to the right place. The blunt tip pressed against his hole, a pleasantly uncomfortable burning sensation spreading through his groin and thighs. He didn't mind; the adrenaline was enough to ward off the pain.

Kissing his neck and shoulder softly, Blaine inched himself inside, drawing in breath sharply at the tight, warm muscles that immediately engulfed him. Kurt, gasping for breath, placed his palms on Blaine's lower back, feeling the knobs of his spine and the dampness from the sweat that had collected on his body. This was it. There was no turning back now.

"Move." The order was short, panted. Kurt had no time for Shakespearean sonnets right now. Blaine obliged, and slowly, slowly began to rock his hips, allowing himself to slide out only a few inches before pushing back in. The sensation of being filled, of having another man inside him, was overwhelming; Kurt had forgotten what it felt like.

His eyes closed, he lost himself to the feeling, bringing his head down to kiss Blaine's forehead and temple as they rocked together, Kurt gripping him tight. It was careful and almost tortuous but Kurt wouldn't have it any other way. The slow pull of Blaine as he moved in and out of his stretched, eager hole was intoxicating; and when the tip collided with his prostate on a harder thrust, Kurt had to bite his lip to stop from crying out loud at the waves of pleasure that coursed through his entire body. The roughness of the duvet and sheets beneath him only intensified the pleasure.

He could feel and hear Blaine groaning against his skin. It felt incredible, he felt incredible. Everything was incredible and oh God, please don't let me cry here, right now, in front of Blaine whilst we're having sex.

Too late.

Kurt felt the backs of his eyes prick painfully as he knew he was approaching orgasm, his body quaking with the effort of holding it off but no avail. He gripped Blaine tighter, leaving crescent-moon shaped nail marks in the skin of his back (which he would make sure to apologise for later). He could feel Blaine speeding up his movements, itching for that release that Kurt was sure he could feel coming, too.

And then he was coming in a hot rush, letting himself cry out and gasp as his whole body shook, his fingers knotting themselves in Blaine's curly hair as he held on as if his life depended on it. A shudder and a small grunt muffled by his shoulder and Blaine was coming too, going boneless and limp as he came down from his inexorable high.

They lay there, breathing deeply, for several moments before the enormity of what had just happened fell over them like a blanket. A blanket that was warm, soft, and extremely comfortable. Kurt felt his face burn as the tears he'd been trying to hold back slipped down his face, and when he sniffed audibly, Blaine inclined his head to look at him.

"Why are you crying?" he asked. "Did I do something wrong? Please, please tell me I didn't hurt you....." His hands fluttered over Kurt's chest, as if searching for any sign of pain or discomfort.

"No, no, it's not that." Kurt wiped away the tears fiercely, cursing himself for getting so emotional over sex. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Then tell me what it is." Blaine said softly, cupping Kurt's chin in his hand.

"I think I love you." he whispered, his lower lip trembling once more.

He watched as Blaine's eyes - those beautiful, hazel eyes - went wide as dinner plates, his mouth dropping open slightly, red and wet from kissing.

"I don't believe that." he croaked. "Not for one minute."

"Why not?" Kurt asked.

"Because-because....because I......." Blaine stuttered, and the sheer look of pain on his face both disturbed and worried Kurt. He placed a hand on Blaine's cheek, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"I do." Kurt said. "I do think I love you. And whether you choose to believe me or not is your business, but being here, with you.....it's everything I thought I'd never experience."

"Kurt-" Blaine began, but Kurt put a finger over his lips.

"Don't say anything. I just want to stay here with you." he said. Blaine swallowed.

"Okay." He smiled, a half-smile that made him look sleepy in the afternoon light. Kurt wondered how he'd got so lucky.

I love you, I love you. Why are you so afraid of that?