Kurt had about two hours left before he needed to get ready for school, yet he couldn’t fall back asleep. Squinting in the sun’s brightening rays, he rolled out of bed and reached for his laptop, telling himself that what he was about to do, he wouldn’t have courage to do when he was more alert and self-conscious. So, after rubbing at his eyes with his fists in a dreamy state, not fully conscious, let alone fully comprehending or even letting himself ponder the evens of his dream, he took a deep breath and googled “s&m.” He felt his cheeks warm at the images and definitions that greeted him.

He had only heard of s&m briefly, having heard it in “La Vie Boheme” the last time he saw “Rent,” and barely even gave it a second thought. It made him too uncomfortable. But now… forcing himself to look at these images… Mr. Anderson had tied him in his dream, yes, but it hadn’t been like that. Kurt had never even touched himself before, afraid of the implications, of the fact that he constantly pushed out of his mind, the fact that he’d maybe never even find someone who was right for him, who accepted him, embracing the diva as much as the dreamy romantic. But yet in his dream, as he was ordered to touch himself, he felt safe, cared for, finally at ease in his own body and his own self. Yes, it had been humiliating to have someone watching him, but in a good way, in the best possible way. Because in his dream, he had felt this incredible bond between them, of love and trust and respect that flowed freely and indescribably.

And despite how much the dream had aroused him, what truly warmed his heart were the small details of the dream. He had read once that our lives aren’t defined by the large, significant moments that we remember most, but by the small day-to-day interactions that take up the majority of our time. And it was those moments in his dream that took his breath away the most. The way Mr. Anderson looked at him so softly and gently, the way he felt comfortable and whole kneeling at his side, being petted soothingly. It should have felt wrong, it should have been demeaning, dehumanizing, but he’d just had an overwhelming amount of respect for him. It had been so heartachingly obvious that the older man had been treating him that way because it was what they both wanted, because he cared for him so deeply and wanted to show him, not because he was less than a person. And it had felt oddly freeing and whole to give his body and feelings to someone else, someone with whom he could entrust his entire being.

Beginning to think more logically now, Kurt shook his head to clear his mind and found himself a bit shocked at what had gone on in his head for the past few hours. He had really thought about doing things like that with someone? Someone he knew? His teacher? He didn’t even know that people did things like those, let alone that they could stir such poignant feelings from the very depths of his being. He absently wrapped an arm across his front, his hand resting on his waist, touching his side gently and uncertainly as he remembered the way his teacher had touched him there. His skin positively ached at the lack of contact, even though it had only been hours since they last saw each other. And oh, the way he had called him “baby” and “sweetheart” with such emotion in his voice…

Kurt groaned. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let himself be let down yet again. Suddenly feeling trapped by the walls in his room, Kurt padded through the halls and put on his shoes before venturing outside. His inner fashionista urged him to have some decency and put on something besides pajama pants and an undershirt, but he figured no one took walks at 6 AM.

Kurt reached a hilly field by the park and stretched out on the grass, feeling slightly ridiculous sleeping in the park like a homeless man, but he had always come here to unwind since he was little. It carried the overwhelming essence of home and tranquility. The grass was thick and lush beneath him, dewy and glistening blue-green in the sun’s rays. It smelled deliciously fresh and organic, and Kurt closed his eyes, soaking up the purity and bliss surrounding him as time slowly floated by.

“Come on, Edward, let’s go, I promise you that tree is exactly the same as the last one, and…”

WOOF!

“OH MY GOD, what are you doing, leave that poor rabbit alone!” a rich, playful laugh floated across the park and rang in Kurt’s ears.

Mmmm, that sounded vaguely familiar… he thought absentmindedly.

“Edward, one of these days, you’ll find a beautiful female dog who will love you for who you are, and you will forget about that bunny and the unmentionable advances you are making towards it.”

WOOF!

“Oh, for the love of God, this is a matter of decency and self-respect!”

Kurt finally opened his eyes and cast a discreet glance around, and saw a man laughing, squatting in front of his dog and affectionately rubbing his hands along his neck. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a sweater over a dark grey undershirt, and Kurt sighed slightly in relief. At least he wasn’t the only one chilling in his pajamas in public on a weekday morning. Kurt felt his eyes running over the man’s body of their own accord, taking in the strong hands, the way his perfect behind stuck out enticingly as he squatted. The man turned around, and… oh, shit. It was Mr. Anderson.

Okay, Kurt, quick. Think…. OH. Pretend to be asleep. Okay. You can do this. And then he heard footsteps approaching, and damn, this really wasn’t going to end well.

“Hello, sleepyhead,” he heard a slightly amused murmur drift from above him.

Hmmm… maybe if he just pretended to be asleep? Kurt didn’t know why he feigned sleep, but he did, and, okay, good, maybe he would just walk away and pretend he hadn’t just seen him there, laying in the grass in the park in his pajamas like a hobo. Yes. Like this had never happened.

And then suddenly Kurt fingers tickling him, playing over his sides mercilessly, and he giggled and squirmed. “Okay, okay, you caught me!” he gasped, breathless.

Blaine stopped tickling him but let his hands run slowly down Kurt’s sides before resting on his waist. “I’m sorry, but you’re just so adorable,” he murmured, smiling down at him affectionately.

“Pajamas and all?”

“Oh, most especially the pajamas,” he teased, and Kurt giggled, loving the way his eyes squinted adorably beneath triangular brows as he winked at him.

“Mmmm, I think you can speak for yourself, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt said, feeling emboldened by his dream and safe in his teacher’s presence.

“We’re not at school, Kurt; you’re more than welcome to just call me Blaine.” He removed his hands from Kurt’s waist and lied facing him on his side, head propped up on one elbow.

“Okay,” he said quietly, looking wistful and pensive. They lied there quietly for a few minutes, each silently enjoying the other’s presence. Even Blaine’s dog remained still, curled up above their heads, eyes glancing curiously about the park. Blaine finally broke the silence.

“So what brings you here this fine morning?”

“I… well, it’s just peaceful here, I guess.” Kurt idly picked at the grass by his side. “I come here a lot, I always have. Just to think, unwind. I guess it sounds silly.”

Blaine reached for the hand that had been picking at the grass and took it into his own, interlacing their fingers. “No, I think it’s lovely.” He kissed Kurt’s palm softly. “There’s so much about you I still don’t know,” he murmured observationally without judgment.

“I suppose I could same,” Kurt breathed.

“Hmmm, I suppose I’ll start with the basics. Blaine gestured grandly and slightly obnoxiously towards his dog Vana White style, still lying on his side. “This,” he said affectionately and jauntily, “is my best friend Edward.” At the sound of his name, the cockapoo raised his head.

Kurt snorted. “I’m sorry, but… Edward?”

“Aww, come on now, he’s not insulting your name! And actually,” he whispered conspiratorially, “He’s a product of my Twilight phase.”

“Mmm. Maybe we should rethink this ‘getting to know each other thing’” Kurt laughed. Edward barked. “See? Edward thinks so, too.”

Hearing Kurt say his name again, Edward began licking his face affectionately.

“Ew! Oh my God, get it off of my face!” he squirmed away from the over-eager dog.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Seriously! Now!”

“I don’t think that’s quite the word I was going for,” he teased.

“Please?” Kurt whined.

“Well, since you asked just so politely,” he grinned, removing the dog, and Kurt glared at him. Blaine simply kissed him sweetly on the nose and lied back on the grass, pulling Kurt to lie close to his side, just barely resting against him.

“So,” Blaine began conversationally, “now that you’ve witnessed the adventures of Edward the Attack Dog, what can you tell me about you?”

“Where to start… I’m in Glee Club, for one,” he said quietly, suddenly shy.

“You sing, too? And I thought you couldn’t possibly be any more perfect,” his thumb brushed the boy’s cheek endearingly. “I sing, too, actually. I used to perform a lot during high school and the beginning of college, but unfortunately other things started getting in the way.” He looked pensive, tracing random patterns on Kurt’s arm. Kurt scooted towards him, just slightly, trying to be discreet. From the tightening of Blaine’s arm around him and the way his chest vibrated slightly, he probably noticed but didn’t care, maybe even enjoyed it.

“I couldn’t imagine my life without music. It helps me escape.” Blaine made an agreeable noise but didn’t respond, and the two lied quietly, lost in their own thoughts.

Eventually, Kurt shivered from the cold.

“Sit up, baby,” Blaine murmured, and Kurt did so. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it reminded him of his dream, the way Blaine had calmly ordered him to do things, and the way he didn’t really know why, just knew that they calmed him, knew they were for his own good. And sure enough, Blaine took his sweater off and placed it around Kurt’s shoulders. “Better?”

“Mmmm, thank you. It smells like you.” The words tumbled from his mouth. He blushed adorably, eyes shifting downward, and Blaine felt his heart melt, gravitating slightly closer towards Kurt. He placed a finger under his chin, nudging it up until he looked into his eyes.

“Good, sweetheart. I want you to be comfortable. And in that case, feel free to keep the sweater as long as you like,” he said simply and dotingly.

Kurt reached a tentative hand up to play with Blaine’s free, soft curls, looking at him questioningly, almost as though looking for permission. Blaine just leaned in closer to wrap an arm around Kurt’s waist, and Kurt ran his hand up Blaine’s neck and through his curls. “Your hair’s so soft,” he hummed, emboldened by the man’s gentle sigh. “It looks beautiful like this.”

“You’re always beautiful,” Blaine pressed Kurt’s body against his own, and Kurt gasped at the contact. “And so perfect. You take my breath away.”

He leaned in closer, until he could taste Kurt’s very essence as their breath mingled deliciously. Kurt’s breath trembled between them, enraptured by their closeness. And he stopped, centimeters away from his lips. He needed to know Kurt wanted this as much as he did, needed to know he felt comfortable and safe in his presence, needed him to make the final move towards him to let their lips meet.

And, sighing as his eyes fluttered closed, Kurt did.