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Jail.

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Laminated floor tiles and fluorescent lights.

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The keys jingling in the guard's hand.

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It's just a visit.

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They're still the same in all this, the same Kurt and Blaine.

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Kurt and Blaine.

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KurtandBlaine.

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Kurt finds it a bit strange that he's never really imagined his first date. What it would be like. It's not that he hasn't tried before. He's been there, curled up in bed, the scent of the fabric softener his mother always used seeping into his senses and coaxing out the old memories; once painful, now comforting. He's been there, conjuring up vague images of someone handsome and perfect ringing the doorbell for prom, of their fingertips brushing lightly, of their eyes dancing, of his heart racing so fast he can scarcely breathe. Because that's how everyone says it's supposed to be, true love. Kicking up a foot when you kiss beneath a canopy of flowers. Twirling on the dance floor. Perfect and glimmery and fluttery. Head-over-heels.

It's different, though, when you sit by your front door, afraid to get too close to the living room window because what if he sees you sitting there waiting for him? You don't want to look over-eager, after all. It's different when you have a real person's name and face to imagine arriving at the door you've been anxiously pacing past for half an hour. When you care not about the concept and excitement of going on a first date, but the about the person you're going with. What he thinks of you. What you'll say. What he'll say.

The doorbell rings, comforting chimes echoing throughout the house, and Kurt wills his heart to mimic their steady, soothing pace as he stride across the hardwood floor toward the door as nonchalantly as he can muster. His hand grips the doorknob, turns it slightly.

No, wait, it hasn't been long enough. He should wait longer. His hand freezes.

He's just being silly. Of course Blaine doesn't care. He turns the doorknob a bit more. It slips out of his palm in a loud "cling" that makes him tense.

This is ridiculous. Summoning up an expression he hopes is more welcoming than creepily overeager, Kurt grasps the doorknob, solid and steady in his palm, and opens the door.

Warm hazel flashes through the crack, and the knob slips from his palm again.

Damn it.

"Need some help?" Playful, dancing eyes and a gentle smile make Kurt's palm tingle as Blaine's hand, warm and steady, rests on his own to open the door fully. Kurt has felt Blaine's hand on his before. The slight moisture, the way the scent of his lotion lingers on Kurt's hand, making him smile whenever his fingers unconsciously brush his cheek or he rests his chin in a cupped palm. But this is different. Blaine doesn't have to pull his hand away quickly; they don't have to pretend. This is a date.

"You look pensive," Blaine says, biting his lip, keeping Kurt's hand wrapped steadily in his. Warmth rushes through their bodies, between their bodies.

"I do? I do. I – sorry, I haven't even said hello to you yet, have I? I haven't."

"I suppose I haven't been quite so gallant as to greet you, either."

"Suppose not," Kurt hums.

"It's never too late to remedy that, you know."

"My gallantry?"

"Or mine."

"Ours, though?

"We can manage that as well."

"Right. Well… hi." Kurt says, aware of his splitting grin, no longer caring.

"At long last! Hi." Blaine laughs, clears this throat. He leans forward, as if to press a kiss to Kurt's lips – they kissed before, in the senior commons, so this should be natural, right? But he thinks better of it, looks down a bit shyly, lip caught between his teeth.

Kurt follows his gaze, then toes the tip of Blaine's foot with his own.

"Tell me those aren't what I think they are."

"They most certainly are not what you think they are." Blaine grins, twirls around beneath the bridge his arm forms with Kurt's. Kurt smiles a bit in spite of himself as Blaine leads them outside to the car, stumbling as he kicks the door shut behind them.

"That might have gone just a bit more gracefully if those weren't what I know they are." Kurt nudges Blaine's shoulder with his own.

"I'd thought that you of all people would appreciate a good sale," Blaine defends, pouts, leans into Kurt a bit more.

"To appreciate a sale, one needs to appreciate the sale-ees in the first place, you know."

"I wholeheartedly appreciate them."

"I'm sure you do," Kurt hums, gliding into Blaine's car after he opens the door for him.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Rubber rain boots with little green frogs wearing red bowties. That is all."

"You like my bowties."

"Well yes, on you, not on lime-green, rubber amphibians."

"I knew you liked my bowties and just wouldn't admit it," Blaine says triumphantly.

"Don't get those boots caught on the gas pedal."

"And embarrass myself in front of my boyfriend? I would never," Blaine teases.

Boyfriend. They've never really had that conversation, never really clarified.

Blaine notices Kurt's hesitation, backtracks. "I mean… we…" he trails off awkwardly as they stop at a red light. Kurt smiles, reaches a reassuring hand out to Blaine's arm, runs a thumb over the tender skin inside the bend of his elbow.

"Boyfriends," Kurt affirms.

"Boyfriends," Blaine agrees, tasting the word on his tongue. He pauses. "You know… I've never really thought about the word, but it fits." Kurt cocks his head. "Like, you're friends, but there's more… it's more."

"A deeper level of friendship that you can't really name," Kurt smiles.

"Exactly. Like, you're friends with someone first, and you feel like you share something special but you're not sure what. It's small things at first, like little whiffs of coffee or the harmonies in a song. But the small things surround you, becoming bigger and bigger until they're something bigger than themselves, until you're dizzy with them… and then you realize that that something is him. You."

Kurt doesn't know what to say. He doesn't have experience with this, with talking like this, with touching someone like this. But he settles for leaning across the armrest to press his lips to Blaine's temple in the pause of the intersection before the light turns green. A bit of hair gel clings to his nose as he pulls away, and he kicks his feet giddily, smiles to himself.

The raindrops start falling soon after, and Blaine groans, interrupting Kurt's reminiscing on the dynamics of New Directions.

"Hey, I don't like the rain as much as the next guy, but at least you're well-prepared," Kurt offers, glancing towards Blaine's boot-clad feet.

"Actually, I… well, it's silly," Blaine murmurs.

"Hey, no." Kurt smoothes a hand down Blaine's arm. "What is it?"

"Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but I packed us a picnic. I thought we could go eat by that little lakefill in the forest preserve, listen to music, sing to each other maybe…" he shrugs.

"That's not silly at all," Kurt murmurs as Blaine pulls the car over by the side of the road in the middle of the forest.

"It is now."

"Shhh. I'm here to be with you, not the lake."

"What a relief," Blaine says seriously, looking down.

"Hmm?"

"I mean, I've heard rumors about your love affair with the lakefill and dismissed them, but it's good thing to hear that there's nothing going on between you two." Blaine's eyes twinkle as they lift to meet Kurt's. But Kurt knows him well, knows he doesn't like it when things don't go as planned, knows when he's trying to hide behind humor.

"Hey. Don't worry about it. We'll eat in here," Kurt insists, running his hand up and down Blaine's back reassuringly.

"It's a bit cramped, isn't it?"

"Cozy," Kurt winks.

And that is that. They eat together in the back seat, facing each other slightly awkwardly, knees pressed together, Kurt's toes resting lightly atop Blaine's, little brushes of fingers against one other as they reach into the same basket at the same time. The little touches, little things Blaine mentioned earlier that add to more than their sum.

"When I was little," Kurt murmurs, "I used to love being in the car when it rained." He scoots closer to the car window, pulling Blaine by the hand to follow him. Blaine's hand rests on his waist from behind him, and Kurt takes his other hand in his own, presses Blaine's finger to the window. He feels Blaine's smile against his neck.

"I used to pick a raindrop I liked and follow it down the window." He dragged Blaine's fingertip down the window with a large droplet, leaving a trail of clear in the foggy window. The condensation makes Blaine's fingertip wet, and Kurt kisses it.

"Your mouth is wet, too," Blaine smiles.

"I guess so."

"Warmer, though, than the water."

"I'm glad." Kurt turns his head to press his lips against Blaine's. It feels new, still, the way their tongues meet hesitantly, the way he tastes coffee and grapes and peanut butter from their picnic, but there's a little something he can't place, something that's becoming familiar. The moist warmth and intimacy of it is comforting, welcoming.

They pull apart a bit breathlessly, Blaine's eyelashes brushing against Kurt's cheek.

"Here, you pick a raindrop," Kurt offers.

Blaine takes Kurt's finger in his own and touches it to the window. The drop is a little one, tiny and round. It's barely moving.

"That's the problem with the little ones," Kurt says when the droplet reaches a halt in the middle of the window. "They get stuck and can't make their way down to the bottom.

"I have faith in it," Blaine murmurs.

The drop speaks for itself as it creeps just a bit further and touches another drop below it, absorbs it into itself until the two become one. It moves a bit faster.

"See? It finds its own way," Blaine grins.

"Sometimes, but…" Kurt trails off as a huge drop comes racing down the window and washes over the one they had been following. Nothing is left but a clear trail, and Blaine pouts a bit. "See?"

"He barely had a chance," Blaine observes sadly.

"Happens to the best of them," Kurt whispers. Blaine senses something in Kurt's tone, but he can't place it, can't identify it. He squeezes the hand that's resting on Kurt's waist a little tighter.

"How about we go for a walk?"

"It's raining," Kurt murmurs.

"It's easing up."

"These are new shoes."

"Well, so are these," Blaine smiles, rubbing his boots together so they squeak.

"Not the same," Kurt grins.

"You wear them, then."

Kurt looks a little bit horrified.

"Wear… those?"

"Mhm!" Blaine chirps, already toeing off the boots and pulling one of Kurt's feet into his lap, undoing the thin blue leather laces of his shoe. "Come on, no one's going to see. It'll be just between us."

"And what are you going to wear?" Kurt feels like he's giving in to this far too easily, but somehow can't bring himself to care.

"My feet could always use a little airing out," he decides, wiggling his freed toes and giggling a bit.

"You did not just suggest running about the cold, murky, slimy forest with bare feet."

"Come on," Blaine urges. And convinced by either the stifling heat inside the car, or the warm tingling trail left by Blaine's hand as it runs up and down his side, Kurt acquiesces.

Kurt opens and closes the car door for Blaine this time. Blaine leans into Kurt's side, keeping an arm around his waist as Kurt brings an arm to rest across Blaine's shoulders and tug him just a little closer. They look above them at the canopy of branches, dewy and fresh and green. The air is muggy and Kurt turns his face up a bit, seeking out the breeze.

They walk in companionable silence for a while, legs brushing against each other occasionally.

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"Oh, listen, they're singing," Blaine smiles.

"I don't hear anything."

"No, the boots."

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"Yeah, I guess they are." Kurt laughs.

"I love your laugh."

"Really?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"I don't know, I mean… it's a little high-pitched, I guess, and my teeth look like they retract into my gums or something."

"It's endearing."

"Never ask me to repeat this, but so are the frog boots," Kurt laughs.

"I just knew you liked them!"

"Only on you."

"I see how it is."

Kurt just grins, and they walk a little further, quietly. Blaine presses his face, wet with dew and sweat and rain, against Kurt's neck. "You okay?" he murmurs.

"I… why?"

"I don't know, you just… seemed a little sad in the car earlier."

"Oh, that. It's… it's nothing."

"But I want to know just as much about your nothings as your everythings."

Kurt is silent for a couple minutes.

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"The raindrops," he says finally, avoiding eye contact. "On the window. They're… they're like humanity, aren't they? The way they race, some help each other, some don't, some plow each other over without a second thought. It seemed like a game when I was little, but now it's just..depressing."

Blaine mulls this over quietly for a moment and Kurt continues.

"I mean, I know it shouldn't be depressing, because it's life and that's what we're here for. We… we live, and we experience things. We help each other. We're all people, some good, some bad. But when you look at the grand scheme of things, the way one bad thing, one bad person, can wipe so much good away, it's depressing."

Blaine runs a damp finger across the back of Kurt's knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. "I know," he murmurs, thinking. "But… good isn't always about the big things, though, I don't think." He touches his closed lips to Kurt's for a long moment, and their mouths cling to each other with moisture as they pull apart. It feels a little heady, a little breathless, and he absorbs the feeling into his skin, of what it feels like to be with Kurt like this. Their sweaty foreheads press together, breath mingling. "Sometimes life's about finding joys in the little moments, the little imperfections that are perfect all the same."

"You're always so optimistic," Kurt murmurs.

Blaine shakes his head, gel-free curls freckling raindrops across Kurt's cheek. "No, not always. Never always. But I like to think that there's little things, little moments to be happy about in between everything else." He leans forward, hugs one of Kurt's lips between his own.

They walk back to the car quietly, pensively.

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Little things.

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