♥ ♥ ♥

It takes me a few hours after Rachel and Santana leave to realize that I should probably call Blaine and tell him...if he doesn’t already know. He picks up on the first ring.

“Kurt, what happened?”

I let out a small chuckle. “Something has to be wrong for me to call you?”

“No, but just...given what’s been going on...I know you and Cooper talked.”

“More like we talked, then I talked, he glared at me, we cried. I cried more than he did. Blaine...he knows everything, and he isn’t happy.”

“I know. He barged into my room this morning, said ‘you’re my brother; how could you do this to me?’ and left.”

“Blaine, I feel like the world’s worst person.”

“So do I.”

He must hear my sniffles over the telephone line, because he’s cooing in my ear a split second later.

“Kurt, it’s okay. I’ll come over. I’ll come over there, okay? In, like, fifteen minutes?”

I nod gratefully, knowing that Blaine’s love will help get me through this.

“Kurt?”

“Oh, sorry.” I can feel the red-hot blush taking over my face, and I’m insanely grateful Blaine isn’t here to see it. “That would be...amazing, Blaine. Thank you.”

“See you soon. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Click.

♥ ♥ ♥

“So...he saw the post, called you, and yelled at you in the park?”

“It was more complicated than that, Blaine.”

Blaine and I are snuggled up on my bed together, as we’ve decided that depressing talks require cuddles. One of his hands is playing with my hair, and the other is wrapped around my waist. Being close to him makes me feel safer than anything else in the world.

Blaine sighs, closing his eyes. “He made you cry.”

“I made him cry, too, Blaine,” I protest. “He told me to tell Rachel, Santana, and Britt that our ‘little plan’ worked...which means I broke his heart.”

“I don’t know about that,” Blaine responds. “You two were never serious, even with the plan in action.”

“I mean, I guess,” I concede. “But...Blaine, let’s think about it. You have to live with him. He’s pretty much my ex, in his eyes and the eyes of the school; he’s furious; and you, my boyfriend, have to live with him. And Nationals! Nationals are in a week, Blaine. How are we—how is this going to work without someone going nuclear?”

Blaine snuggles up closer to me. “We’ll work it out. I’m a big boy, Kurt. I can handle Cooper. He can’t stay mad forever. But, the thing is...I betrayed him big-time, Kurt. The way he sees it, you cheated on him with me. Knowing Cooper, it’s going to take him a good, long while before he can look either of us in the eye.” To drive his point home, Blaine looks into my eyes. “But, Kurt, I love you, and I’m confident that we can make it through this.”

“My loving you is part of what got this whole mess started, Blaine,” I chuckle melancholically, “but having you in this with me...I feel like it just might be okay.”

The smile he gives me is more than enough to reassure me.

♥ ♥ ♥

The night before we fly to Nationals, Blaine stays over. He rings the doorbell around eight-thirty. My dad sees us off to my room with a stern warning to keep the door open at all times. The second I look at Blaine, delectable in ass-hugging jeans and a bright blue polo shirt that sets off his eyes, I know I won’t be able to keep my hands off of him. I take his hand immediately, dragging him up to my room. The look in his eyes tells me we’re on the exact same page.

“He seems really worried, Kurt,” Blaine murmurs into my hair once I’ve shut the door behind us. “Best not to disobey him, don’t you think?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

“I mean, I could open it,” I breathe, gasping when he kisses down my neck, “but I really don’t think either of us wants that.”

“Mmm, rebel,” Blaine purrs, latching his mouth onto my collarbone.

“Feels good being bad.” I let my hands travel down to his ass, gasping again as his hands slide up under my shirt. “Mmm. Blaine, honey. Blaine.” He looks up at me, eyes hooded with lust. “Should we take this to the bed?”

He grins at me, and I’ve come to know those bedroom eyes better than I know myself. “God, yeah. I thought you’d never ask.”

I kiss him then, just because I can. We fall onto the unmade bed, me on top of him, kissing like we’ll die if we stop.

“I love you, Kurt,” Blaine breathes during a break for air, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. “Not loving this shirt, though.”

I laugh into his hair. “I have faith in you. You’ll get it.”

Sure enough, my shirt is off in seconds, and I start in on his, sliding it up and over his head in only a few moves. “I love you, too, by the way.”

“Shit, you’re good at this,” Blaine mutters, and I swallow it with a kiss.
I trail my hands down to the button of his jeans, popping it open with ease.

We’ve done this countless times before; I’ve almost got pants removal down to a science. He groans, verging on wanton, when my hand brushes against his erection. I’ve only just hooked my thumbs on the waistband of his boxer briefs when I feel a hand on my chest.

“Kurt.” I look down to find Blaine staring at me intently. “Maybe we shouldn’t—I want to, God, do I ever, but...with all that’s been going on, I really don’t think we should have sex tonight.”

Sex. Blaine certainly has a different definition of that word than I. What we’ve been doing—handjobs, enthusiastic frottage, furtive blowjobs in my room with everyone home because we’re never alone—is amazing, indescribable, but...not sex. I want sex with him, but I was going to wait to bring it up until after Nationals, at least.

“We haven’t,” I mutter before I can think better of it. I flop back down on the bed next to Blaine, curling up into him like I’ve been doing it for a thousand years.

“What do you mean?” Blaine murmurs, so quietly that I can barely hear him.

“Of course we have. What else would you call what we’ve been doing?” He sounds almost hurt, but I can’t think why. “Is it me? Am I...bad?”

Oh. That’s why.

“Oh, baby, no,” I whisper, pulling him closer and holding him tight in my arms.

“No, Blainers, you’re wonderful. You’re amazing. It’s just...it appears that you and I have very different definitions of sex.”

He looks at me with those confused puppy-dog eyes. “What’s yours?”

I sigh, kissing him lightly. “The way I see it, we haven’t had sexual intercourse yet; ergo, we haven’t had sex. Gone all the way. You know.”

Blaine smiles. Smiles. Why is he smiling? “Oh, Kurt. Okay. My turn. The way I see it, you’ve made me feel so good that it’s like I’m leaving my own body. You’ve made me come. I’ve made you come. My hands and mouth have been all over you, and vice versa. We’ve been as close as humans can be to one another. To me, that’s what sex is. Intimacy.”

Awwww. My heart seems to inflate inside my chest at Blaine’s words. “I think I like your definition better,” I confess, leaning in close and nuzzling my boyfriend’s nose.

“Me, too.” He smiles sweetly. “That said, do you...do you want to go all the way? I mean, soon?” His little face looks so hopeful; he still looks so innocent, despite the subject matter at hand.

I run a hand through his hair, which is mercifully un-gelled. “Yes, honey,” I murmur. “Soon. I really want that with you.” I cup the back of his neck with my hand, pulling him closer so I can give him a deep, lingering kiss. “There’s a ton of craziness going on, and we’re two of the three people at the eye of the storm. But I love you, and you love me, and I think we can make it. Together.”

Blaine burrows down further into my embrace, lifting up the covers and pulling them over us. “I think we can, too. Together. I’m not going to lie; I want things to be okay with Cooper, and it’s killing me to know they won’t be for a while. But I think he’ll come around eventually, once the ache goes away. I know what it’s like to pine for you, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine winks at me, “and it’s tough. You’re hard to resist.”

I can’t resist the urge to preen just a little. “I suppose,” I reply, “but maybe it’s just the Anderson boys who can’t resist me.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, a fond smile on his face. “You did seem to reel us both in pretty quick, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I think I did.” I grin at him. “Love you.”

He grins. “I love you, too. Let’s go to sleep.”

As soon as we locate the only two pairs of sweatpants I own—they’re huge on Blaine, and it’s adorable—we snuggle back up in my bed. Between the covers tucked safely around us and the warm boyfriend spooning me, I can tell this will be a very peaceful sleep.

♥ ♥ ♥

I wake up the next morning with a smile on my face. The petite, curly-haired, adorable reason for my smile is pressed up against me, my arms holding him there. I kiss the back of his neck, and he stirs, turning around to face me. He’s got the sweetest sleepy smile on his face.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Blaine burrows his face into the space between my neck and shoulder. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” I respond, voice hoarse from lack of use. “And you, my darling?”

“Same here. It might have had something to do with the beautiful person sleeping with me—next to me, I mean.” I can feel Blaine’s face getting hotter where it rests on my shoulder. The mid-May sunlight streaming in through my window renders his skin a creamy golden brown, and it’s beautiful. He is beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell him, eliciting a giggle that tickles my neck where his soft hair touches it.

“You’re beautiful, Kurty,” Blaine murmurs, removing his face from my shoulder and situating himself so that he can look at me, but still snuggle. He heaves a sigh. “I wish it hadn’t turned out this way.”

“What do you mean?” I can only hope he isn’t questioning this, or us, or...everything.

“Not...not us,” he clarifies. “Just...hear me out. I am so in love with you, Kurt. I am, and I’m never not going to love you. But...I just keep flashing back to when Cooper and I were little, around five and seven, and we’d...we’d choreograph these dance routines together, and he’d give me a hard time when I messed up. Y’know, like any older brother would. And we used to...we used to talk to each other about everything. I was the first person Cooper came out to, and he was the first person I came out to. We had a really great relationship, you know?”

Blaine sniffles, and I start stroking his hair. It never fails to soothe him.

“And then...then he turned into this womanizing, maneating player, and I still loved him. I’ll always love him. He’s my brother, for God’s sake.” I can tell, now, that Blaine is holding back tears.

“But...then you walk in, fresh from New York, and you’re perfect. You’re all I ever wanted; too bad Santana, Rachel, and Brittany got there first. And then Cooper noticed you. I remember texting him after he asked you out that day, when he pretended there was an ASB meeting—he knew full well that I liked you. I had told him before. He was all, ‘have you seen him? He’s sooooo hot,’ and I’m like ‘he makes me melt,’ yadda yadda. You know me. Romantic stuff. And Cooper asked me why I didn’t ask you out, and I told him it was because I was afraid you’d say no. He told me to take more risks. And he kissed you, and I knew you loved me, but it still hurt. I was hurting for both of us. I hurt for him, because I knew about the plan; and I hurt for me. I wish it had turned out differently. I wish I’d just asked you out first. I could have been your boyfriend this whole time. We could have gone on dates, sung together in glee club...I could have come home from dates with you and told Cooper how happy you made me, and he would have been so happy for me. We wouldn’t be...rivals, or some shit, like we are now. I hate that that’s what my relationship with my brother has turned into.”

I can tell that Blaine is trying so hard to stay strong. It’s taking everything in me not to cry, knowing that I’m the cause of all this.

“Blaine, I feel so guilty,” I confess, tilting my boyfriend’s head up to look at me. “I hate that I drove a wrench between you and Cooper.”

Blaine scoots up to kiss me. “Kurty, you didn’t. Cooper and I caused this. It would have happened, whether or not the revenge plan ever came together, because he still would have noticed you. I was just trying to say that if I hadn’t been such a chickenshit, we could have been together this whole time. I need to sort this out with Cooper if I want our relationship to get back to where it was before I fell in love and he fell in lust.”

“So, there’s nothing I can do to make you feel better?” I inquire.

Blaine raises a flirty eyebrow, a mischievous little grin on his face. He presses our foreheads together. “You could kiss me,” he murmurs against my lips. “That would definitely make me feel better.” He presses his lips to mine ever-so-lightly; it barely counts as a kiss.

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “You’re incorrigible,” I mutter, kissing him in earnest. I don’t trust his sudden change in mood, and I know there’s something he’s feeling that he isn’t telling me. He’ll tell me when he’s ready, I tell myself. He loves me.

The buzzing of my phone snaps me out of my thoughts. I rummage around in the covers for my phone, laughing with Blaine when I unearth it from under his butt. I unlock it to find a message from the last person I would have expected.

Cooper Anderson: If you break my little brother’s heart, I swear to God I will castrate you.

♥ ♥ ♥

Once every member of New Directions is accounted for at the airport, we make our way to gate D3 to board our flight. Blaine has Superglued himself to my side, even holding my carry-on hostage for me despite my repeated attempts to lift the burden off his shoulder. In exchange, I scan his boarding pass for him and lift all our bags into the overhead compartments.

“Aww, I wanted to do that,” Blaine cries in protest. He laughs when he catches my raised eyebrow. “What? I wanted you to see my muscles!” He flashes me the puppy-dog eyes I’ve never been able to resist.

“I’m sure they’re very impressive, sweetheart,” I coo, “and I’m sure I’ll get a chance to see them in action tonight.” I wink at him, and he blushes, rolling his eyes and giving me a fond smile. Like a gentleman, he makes sure I’m fully situated and comfortable in my window seat before he even sits down.

Every now and then, I catch myself looking over at Cooper, who hasn’t taken his headphones off since we congregated in the check-in area three hours ago. He’s asleep once we hit cruising altitude, and the guilt obviously still has a full, tight hold on me, because I feel it crushing me down into my seat.

We hit a bit of turbulence just before landing in Los Angeles. When my Blaine suddenly takes off his seatbelt and jumps into my lap in response, I discover that he secretly hates flying. He’s concealed it for years, he tells me, but he’s just never felt safe in the air. I respond in the best way I know how: I wrap him up tight in my arms.

“You’re always safe with me,” I tell him, burying my nose in his neck.

“I know,” he murmurs back, and I can feel his smile. “And you’re safe with me.”

“And the two of you are giving me cavities,” Santana fake-gushes from the pair of seats immediately in front of us. “Seriously. We know you’re the perfect couple; can’t the two of you just fight already? Make us all feel better?” The glint in her eye tells me she’s just playing, that she’s actually happy for us. “Just kidding, babyface. Kurt, look at Blaine’s face.”

I look over at Blaine, who’s laughing good-naturedly. I turn back to Santana, eyebrow raised as if to say looks perfect to me.

“Okay, well, he was shitting himself before.” Santana blows us a kiss and, with that, sits back down next to Brittany. Through the sliver of space between the two seats, I can see Brittany rest her head on Santana’s shoulder, and make a mental note to get some details out of at least one of them once we land.

“Think those two got it together?” murmurs a sleepy voice beside me. I squeeze Blaine’s hand just to let him know I’m there, and, as if on cue, we’re hit with another patch of turbulence.

“I think they just might have, babe,” I respond, kissing those soft curls as my sweet boy snuggles closer. “They just might have.”

Once we land, every member of New Directions is scrambling to get up and remove his or her baggage from the overhead bins. Blaine, ever the gentleman, grabs my carry-on from the seat in front of me and places it on his own seat while he retrieves his bag, Brittany’s Cheerios backpack, and Santana’s duffel. The two girls smile gratefully, and Santana leans back to wink at me. He’s a keeper, she mouths.

“I know,” I whisper back, smiling like I can’t control my face.

We, the glee-clubbers, march off the plane as a unit: Mr. Schue heads up the line, listening patiently while Rachel, in full captain mode, talks his ear off. Santana, Brittany, Blaine, and I hang back, and I keep a close eye on the two girls. Their pinkies are linked, and they’re stepping in perfect sync. All good signs, I suppose, though I’m no psychologist.

Once we reach the baggage claim, however, I sidle up to Santana and ask her outright. “So, Miss Lopez,” I trill, “what’s going on with you and Britt?”

My friend grins at me, rolling her eyes fondly. “You’re asking me about my romantic entanglements? You, of all people? King of romantic entanglements?”

I chuckle derisively, rolling my eyes right back at her. “Good one, Tana. Hardy-har-har. But, no, seriously. What’s up with you and Brittany? Blaine and I were speculating, but we couldn’t be sure.”

She sighs, rolling her luggage tag up in her hand and smoothing it back out.

“We’re still...how we were before. But I’m going to talk to her tonight. We’re going out for dinner somewhere—Schue’s going to give me a recommendation once we see where our hotel is, ‘cause he’s been here before—and I’m going to talk to her.” Santana bites her lip and tilts her head down. Wordlessly, I pull her into a hug, smiling to myself when she hugs me back tightly.

“It’ll all work out,” I whisper, “I promise.”

“I hope you’re right, Hummel.”

“Everything okay?” Blaine asks, walking up to us with my bag and his own. He gives me a great big sunshine smile, pecking my cheek with alacrity. We determined on the flight that it’s okay to show a little PDA here; it is Los Angeles, after all, and we’ve done worse in stuffy, conservative Lima. Blaine looks from me to Santana, shooting me an is she okay? look, to which I respond with a check back later shrug.

“We’re all good, bubble butt,” Santana snarks, pulling away from our hug to pat Blaine on the head. “Don’t you worry, baby. Let’s chill tonight, you two, yeah?”

“Definitely,” I reply for both of us. “And let me know how...it goes, okay?”

Santana smiles and nods, skipping off to join Brittany and link pinkies with her. All is right—for now, anyway.

♥ ♥ ♥

Hours later, long after our short “dinner” with Finn and Rachel at Jamba Juice, Blaine and I are curled up together in the impossibly soft hotel bed. The Vow plays on the HD TV in front of us.

“Can’t believe all the rooms have Netflix,” Blaine gushes. “We’re living in the lap of luxury, aren’t we?”

I scoff, ruffling his hair, which is still wet from his shower. “Think about where you live, Blainers.”

“Touché.” He smiles at me, that gorgeous, sparkling smile. “Unlike in my house, however,” he objects, “we are alone right now.”

“And I couldn’t be happier,” I whisper, snuggling up to my boyfriend and breathing in the scent of his shampoo. “Short-lived alone time is better than no alone time at all...that torture starts tomorrow.”

As if on cue, our doorbell rings. I flop dramatically onto a pillow, indicating that Blaine can’t possibly expect me to get the door. He gets up with a good-natured laugh, rolling his eyes. “As you wish, your highness.” His bare feet pad over to the entrance, peering through the peephole. “It’s Santana,” he tells me.

“Oh, God, let her in.” I clutch my hand to my heart, which is beating double-time. “I hope it went okay with Britt.”

“What?”

I don’t have time to clarify before Santana bounces in—literally. She pulls a Tigger all the way to the bed, onto which she jumps far too enthusiastically for someone who’s just been rejected. Good sign. She looks between the bed Blaine and I have been lying in—rumpled sheets, pillows askew—and the other bed, as pristine as it was when we entered.

“You two are doubling up tonight?” She waggles her eyebrows at me, and then at Blaine. “Wanky.”

Blaine laughs nervously, troubled by Santana’s extensive knowledge of our plans for tonight. I wink at him to let him know it’s nothing to worry about. She knows nothing, I mouth over Santana’s head, earning a silent chuckle from Blaine.

“So, Tana,” I start, wringing my hands, “how’d it go?”

Her bright smile is all the answer I need. “She loves me, too, Kurty!”

“Still my nickname,” Blaine mock-protests, joining us on the bed and giving Santana a warm hug from behind. “That’s fantastic news, Santana. Double dates, whee!”

“You know it, shawty,” Santana responds, leaning her head back onto his shoulder. “All day, err’day.” My friend looks right at me. “Kurt, I gotta thank you,” she begins. “Without our talk a few months ago, I wouldn’t ever have had the courage to sing that Frank Ocean song to Britt, and she would never have picked up what I was putting down.” She laughs. “Britt said she had no idea I felt the same way she did, so if it hadn’t been for you, we would have continued in that same vicious circle for who knows how long.”

I beam at her, pulling her out of Blaine’s embrace and into my own. “I’m so happy for you,” I whisper in her ear. “You deserve this.”

“Let’s be real; no, I don’t,” she disagrees, “but I’m happy it happened to me.”

“I think you do,” I compromise, pulling away from our hug to grab her shoulders and look her in the eye.

“You’re too good to me, Hummel.” We look at each other silently for a split second before bursting out laughing for no discernible reason. Santana falls back onto the bed—her head landing, as it would, in Blaine’s lap—with laughter, perking up when she sees the TV screen. “Is that Thelma and Louise?” she gasps, sitting up straight and elbowing my boyfriend where it counts. Blaine yelps in pain as Santana situates herself at the head of the bed.

“Tana, no elbowing my boyfriend in the balls,” I reprimand her, getting a giggle from her and a kiss from an aching Blaine. We slide up until our heads are resting against the headboard. I end up with Santana on one side and Blaine on the other, to ensure that the latter experiences no more genital injury. As soon as the three of us are comfortably watching the movie, the doorbell rings again. Blaine gets up to get it without a word this time, limping for effect.

“It’s Rachel...and Finn...and Brittany?” he calls, confused. “Sending ‘em in.”

Sooner than Santana and I have time to make room, three more people are piling on the bed with us, Blaine following close behind.

“Hey, bro,” Finn greets me, wrapping me in a hug. His hoodie smells like Rachel’s perfume. “Uh-oh. How are we going to make this work?”

“Ugh, you guys,” I whine as Brittany climbs over me to get to her girlfriend. “There’s an entire other bed over there.”

Santana looks at Brittany, who looks at Rachel, who looks at Finn, who looks at Blaine. “Nah,” they all reply.

Eventually, we work it out so that Finn, Santana, and I are at the head of the bed with Rachel, Blaine, and Brittany between our legs, all eyes focused intently on the movie.

I can almost feel the domesticity of it tugging at my heartstrings, and when Blaine turns his head and leans up to kiss my cheek, I picture the two of us doing the same thing in a tiny New York shoebox, loving life no matter what it throws at us.

♥ ♥ ♥

When the movie ends, I make the executive decision to kick all of our friends out of Blaine’s and my room. I can hear grumbles from Finn about c’mon, you’re my brother and Santana about wanky, and then more from Finn about what, exactly, wanky means.

What did they expect? A man can only handle having his boyfriend between his legs for so long without any clothes coming off.

I know I’m ready. I can only hope Blaine feels the same.

As I lie on the bed, waiting for Blaine to finish brushing his teeth, I realize that lying around isn’t going to rid either one of us of our virginities tonight. I have to be proactive; take matters into my own eager hands. I hop off the bed and walk into the bathroom, where Blaine is screwing the cap back onto his moisturizer.

“Best decision I ever made,” he tells me proudly as I come in. “I never would have started moisturizing if you hadn’t started up that skin regimen with me. Feel my face, Kurt! It’s so soft.”

I feel his face, and it is soft indeed. However, his face, soft and devilishly handsome as it is, is not my primary interest tonight. I reach out and start to rub his shoulders, moving up to his neck and down his back.

“Mmm, that feels good,” Blaine murmurs, his slow, easy smile coming through in his voice. When I wrap my arms around his waist and start mouthing at the back of his neck, he chuckles—a sexy, sexy chuckle that sends something unfamiliar sizzling through me, all the way down to my toes.

“Kurt, what’s gotten into you?” he asks, his voice low and sexy and God, why is everything Blaine does so sexy all of a sudden? There’s no other way to describe it. He turns around and places his hands on either side of my waist—sexy. He takes in the look in my eyes and reflects it tenfold in his—sexy. One of his hands travels to my ass, the other to the back of my neck—double sexy.

“Never mind,” he purrs in my ear. “I figured it out.”

His lips find mine, and we stagger backwards until my back hits the wall. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth, wet and a little dirty, curling it with mine and moaning into the kiss. “Tonight?” he asks me, voice rough like a growl.

“Tonight,” I respond, voice breathy and high like a damsel in distress. “I love you.”

“God, Kurt,” he pants as his mouth finds its way across my jawline—followed every so often by his teeth, mmm. “You’d better know I love you, too.”

And I really don’t know what’s gotten into me at this point—I’m not under any kind of influence—but nevertheless, I still pull him back up by his ass and lean in close to whisper in his ear.

“Blaine, take me to bed.”

Wordlessly, he takes me by the hand and runs to our bed, jumping on it with boundless zeal. As soon as I climb on, though, he’s back to business—so to speak. He takes my face gently in his hands and kisses me hard, like he’ll die if he stops. He does stop eventually, but only to rid me of my clothes. He pops the button on my jeans, and I can feel myself getting hotter and hotter.

“Kurt, you’re gorgeous,” he tells me once we’re both naked. “And I swear I’m not just saying that. You really are.” He chuckles in awe, but it’s strained. I know he’s dying for this as much as I am.

“I know you’re not,” I reassure him, trying for flip and flirty. If I know myself at all, I’m probably failing miserably at it—Kurt Hummel is many things, but sexy is not one of them.

Blaine’s mouth leaves my neck, and I groan a wordless protest. Something’s apparently diverted his attention from the massive hickey he’s been working on.

“You joking?” Oops. I guess I’ve been thinking out loud. “If you think you’re not sexy, that’s on me, honey. I’m obviously doing something wrong here, because you’re sexy as hell.” Before I can tell him he is doing absolutely nothing wrong, Blaine abandons the hickey and sets about trailing open-mouthed kisses down my neck and chest. He stops to lick over a nipple, making me moan. “Ugh, Kurt, I will never get over what that does to you,” he tells me.

His kisses continue their path down my chest, but stop abruptly once his mouth reaches my abs. “Oh, shit,” he swears. “God, Kurt, I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.” Blaine dashes over to his suitcase, unzipping it and taking some things out—I can’t see, but can pretty easily guess what they are. Sure enough, once he’s back on the bed, Blaine fishes out a condom from the box of Trojans he evidently packed.

“Planned for this, did you?” I tease. “Hope I’m not getting predictable.”

“Oh, never,” he reassures me, kissing my forehead. “I was just holding out hope, my darling. I...may or may not have nicked them from Cooper.” When Blaine catches my disapproving look, he chuckles softly, setting the condom aside. “He has fifty-odd boxes, Kurty. I doubt he’ll miss one.”

“Did he have lube, too, perchance?” I inquire, making Blaine blush.

“I’m not going to steal my brother’s lube, Kurt. Condoms are sterilized.” Blaine rolls his eyes. “But yes, I did...plan for that. They sell it at drugstores, I guess? I hadn’t known that.”

It’s my turn to chuckle then. “When I was seven, I stumbled upon a gigantic bottle of K-Y Jelly in a crowded Duane Reade. For some extremely odd reason, I was fascinated with lotion back then, and when I asked my dad if I could get the fancy see-through lotion, he turned a thousand shades of red and put it back without a word. Our cashier saw the whole thing and could not stop laughing.”

“Aww, cutie pie,” Blaine coos, getting up again to retrieve the lube. “I would have loved to grow up knowing you. I bet you were the cutest little kid.”

“What about you, Mister Bowtie?” I counter as he climbs back onto the bed. “You were probably cuter. I was just a little know-it-all with a nose too big for my face.”

“You were not, Kurt,” Blaine denies, busying himself opening the bottle of lube. “I don’t even have to have been there to know that you were the cutest, handsomest little seven-year-old that Duane Reade—whatever that is—had ever seen.”

“It’s a drugstore, Blaine,” I laugh outright. “So...how are we going to...decide?”

Blaine looks at me quizzically for a few seconds before looking down at the condom and the lube. “Oh. Well, I kind of...I thought about it, and watched—did some, uh, research...and I decided I want to bottom.” Blaine’s face is the color of a tomato, and I reach out to take his hand.

“That sounds great, honey,” I murmur. “So, I finger you, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Blaine stammers. “That’s, ehm...I practiced that.” He nods, smiling, as if to reassure himself. “It feels good.”

I can’t help but beam at him; he’s just so cute. “I’m glad. Just...tell me if it hurts, or you need more lube.” I smile at my boyfriend; he’s practically shaking, poor thing. “You okay, honey?”

Blaine nods. “Yeah. I promise I’m fine, Kurt, and I really, really want to do this, want to have sex with you. I just...it’s both our first times, and I don’t want to screw it up.”

Oh, honey. I take the opportunity to kiss my boyfriend soundly on the mouth. “There is no pressure here, my darling,” I promise him. “I’m in love with you, I want you, and we’re both beginners, like you said. There’s no such thing as screwing it up. We’re going to make love for the first time, here in this hotel room, and it’s going to be beautiful.”

Blaine nods, his eyes a little misty. “I’m so in love with you.”

All I can do is smile as I gently take the lube from him. We both know it’s time.

“Remember, baby, let me know if it hurts.” I kiss him once again before sitting up and uncapping the lube. He spreads his legs for me, and I’m nervous as anything when I slide the first finger in. “That feel okay?”

“Amazing,” Blaine murmurs. He’s putty in my hands by the time I’ve got three fingers in him. He practically screams when my fingers find his prostate, and I rub them over it for a good, long while just to drive him crazy.

“Oh, God, Kurt,” Blaine moans. “That feels so good.” He lets out a broken cry when I pull my fingers out completely, sticky with lube. I wipe them surreptitiously on the side of the duvet, in a spot I know neither of us will touch in our sleep.

“You ready?” I ask him, taking in his face: his eyes are closed in bliss, his lips turned up slightly at the corners.

“Yeah,” he breathes, opening his eyes to look at me. “I am.”

It takes me a while to locate the condom; it’s gotten buried in the sheets due to Blaine’s writhing and thrashing. Once I find it, I put it on and slick my cock up with lube. This is it, I think to myself as I line my cock up with Blaine’s stretched hole. We’re going to have sex. We’re going to lose our virginities. Together.

The thought overwhelms me for a few precious seconds, but I bring myself back down to earth just in time to catch Blaine’s reassuring smile. I can do this, I tell myself as I push inside of him.

Blaine moans, a broken, wanton moan that goes straight to my cock. “Kurt, ugh,” he growls.

“Feel okay?” I pant, overcome with sensation. Blaine’s hands and mouth do wicked, wonderful things to me, but this—this is indescribable. He’s so tight that I know I’m not going to last long.

“Hurts,” he admits, “but in a good way. Oh, yes,” he moans when I’m all the way inside him. “You—you can move.”

Slowly, tentatively, I begin to move in and out of him, making him groan and writhe and fist his hands in the bedsheets. Blaine’s loud in bed, as I’m quickly discovering, and I love it. “Harder, Kurt,” he whimpers, and I’m powerless when he says my name like that. I thrust harder, and this feels different than before; this feels like fucking. It’s not that I’m opposed to fucking, necessarily, and it still feels like making love—I just can’t help but wonder if I’m hurting him.
“Oh, God, Kurt, yes, just like that,” he breathes, and the bed is rocking with the force of our lovemaking. Well, that settles that. “Right there, mmm.”

I can feel my orgasm getting close, and I try to hold off for Blaine. I want to make this good for him. I reach out and start stroking him, making him moan even louder.

“Kurt, I’m close,” he tells me, his voice hoarse from all that moaning and screaming.

“Me, too, baby,” I pant, leaning down to kiss him. That’s apparently all it takes for him, and he’s coming and coming all over the sheets and my hand. He clenches down on my cock over and over, sending me over the edge too. “Oh, Blaine,” I groan.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he moans, trembling and shaking as he comes down from his orgasm. “Kurt, that was amazing.”

“I’m glad,” I reply, burying my face in the light dusting of hair on his chest. “It was amazing for me, too. I love you so much.”

Blaine smiles at me like I’ve given him the world. “I love you with all my heart, and I’m so glad we lost our virginities together. You’ll always have that part of me, and I of you, and...I really hope we never leave.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “This hotel? High school?”

“Each other.” I can hear the smile in Blaine’s voice, even as he’s getting choked up. “I can see the rest of my life with you, Kurt Hummel.”

I’ve been able to see that since the day we met. “Me, too, Blaine Anderson. You’re mine, okay?”

Blaine grins. “Okay.”

I snuggle closer to my boyfriend as we bask in the afterglow of our first time. It’s only ever been us, together, and nothing will ever change that.

♥ ♥ ♥

The next day, we trek to the competition, talking and laughing amongst ourselves—but something is off. People are staring openly at Blaine and me, and I have no idea why.

In the warmup room, tensions are running high--everyone keeps glancing over at the two of us, whispering to each other in words I can't make out.

"They're talking about us," Blaine insists every time I wonder aloud what's going on. "I don't know why. It could be the Cooper thing, but...I really don't know."

"Baby, we're not that interesting. There has to be something else going on."

"There's nothing else going on," says a voice from behind us. "You two honestly have no idea?"

Blaine and I turn around in perfect sync to face an irate Cooper.

"Um...no?"

"Of all the morally reprehensible things," Cooper growls, glaring openly at Blaine and me. "Both of you. You dupe me into thinking we're dating, Kurt, and then you tell me you've been in love with my brother, of all people, the whole time. Do you even know how awful that is, to be tricked like that?"

"Cooper, I'm sorry," I begin before Rachel Berry rushes over and cuts me off.

"Cooper, if you're going to be mad at someone, be mad at us. Santana, Brittany, and me. This was all our doing, and we refuse to let you vilify Kurt for something we caused."

"Kurt has a little something called free will, ostensibly," Cooper shoots back. "Don't you?"

"Don't patronize him like that," Blaine intones, glaring daggers at his brother.

I'm too shell-shocked to respond to anything at the moment, and Blaine’s ight grip on me is the only thing keeping me upright.

"Oh, and don't even get me started on you, Blaine," Cooper bellows, cackling malevolently. "You're a lying, duplicitous asshole, okay? I thought you were better than all this, but I guess I was wrong. All we have is each other to lean on in our family, but clearly, family doesn't mean shit to you." Cooper laughs, no humor there whatsoever. "Oh, and by the way? Everyone could hear the two of you having sex last night. Those walls are thin as fuck. That's what everyone was talking about. Great job. It hasn't even been two weeks since I found out about the grand plan these four cooked up to break my heart, and you two aren't sorry at all. You couldn't even wait to hop into bed together."

I can see the tears pooling in Blaine's eyes. I know I can't just stand by and let Cooper make him cry.

"No, you know what, Cooper?" I stand up, staring him straight in the eye. "You can be mad at me. You can be mad at Rachel, Santana, and/or Brittany. You can—you should—be mad at yourself. You can send me threatening texts about castration. But I will not let you be mad at Blaine. All he has done is succumb to his feelings. I'm the lying, duplicitous asshole here; not him. Remember that he is your brother, and he loves you. And please, Cooper, for the love of God, just stop."

Cooper stares at me, just stares, for a good long while. Just when I start to consider backing down, looking away, he speaks. "You're right, Kurt," he admits.

"Which part?" I retort coolly.

"You are a lying, duplicitous asshole." Cooper smiles at me, all teeth and insincerity, before walking out of the warmup room.

I turn to look back at Blaine, who is now crying in earnest. I take his face in my hands, kissing away his tears.

"Kurt, I can't be here right now," he confesses brokenly. "Can we—" He gestures with his thumb to the open door, where Cooper exited mere moments ago.

"Of course, honey," I interlace his fingers with mine and walk with him into the hallway. "Anything for you."

♥ ♥ ♥

Blaine leads me all around the crowded performance center before deeming a nondescript staircase, far enough away from the warmup room, okay to sit on. He pulls me down with him, leaning his head on my shoulder.

"I love my brother, Kurty," he whimpers. "I just want things to be okay again."

"I know," I sigh, resting my head on top of his. "I do, too. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but things will be okay. Cooper will always be your brother, and he loves you, too." I tilt my head slightly to kiss his hair.

"Something in me knows that," Blaine confesses. "I know that he can't stay mad forever. I'm just—it really doesn't look good that we did what we did last night so soon after this. We should have thought about the situation."

I card my fingers through his hair to soothe him. "Do you regret it?"

"God, no," he answers quickly. "I love you, and losing my virginity to you was everything I ever dreamed of, I swear." He sighs, relaxing into my embrace. "I just wish I could magically fix this. I wish life were that easy."

"So do I, Blaine,” I sigh. “So do I.”

“I just want my brother back,” he admits, “and I want you. Why can’t I have both?”

“I promise you, Blaine, that he will come around.” And I mean it. I don’t know when, but I know that Cooper will calm down eventually. For Blaine’s sake, I hope it’s sooner, rather than later.