His father had a series of meetings to attend after they returned to the hotel, so Kurt helped him prep the necessary materials. Later that evening, they called a cab to the airport and caught their flight back home. His dad didn’t mention the incident until after they bustled through the door and Carole greeted them with hugs and the tantalizing smell of dinner on the table. Finn emerged from his room where he was playing video games, and the four of them sat down to eat, Carole’s eager questions dispelling any lingering awkwardness. Although her “Did anything interesting happen?” did at first receive an uncomfortable silence before his dad replied, “Not really” and mentioned some strategy for a bill he was working on to divert her attention. The dinner table was not a place for that discussion, especially with Finn present.

But as Kurt prepared for bed, his dad knocked on his bedroom door and collapsed into a wicker chair beside the vanity where Kurt was moisturizing. He exhaled wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Y’know I have to say something as a father here, right, Kurt?” he asked, looking up at Kurt, who was determinedly staring straight ahead and rubbing careful circles on his face.

Kurt shifted in his chair. Just because he knew this lecture was inevitable did not mean he would enjoy it.

“I thought you pretty much covered it at the hotel,” Kurt tried weakly.

His dad sighed. “Well, back there I had just been woken from a sound sleep at an ungodly hour to the hear a stranger from the presidential campaign tell me that my underage son snuck into a gay bar in an unfamilar city, nearly hooked up in public with a guy he didn’t know who turned out to be the homophobic VP nominee’s son.” Kurt winced. He didn’t want to hear that blunt truth thrown in his face.

His dad’s expression softened.

“Kurt, bud, first of all I would say never listen to what Santana has to say. She’s not exactly prime role model material.” Kurt pursed his lips, quirking his eyebrows in agreement.

“But if you’re worried you’re not adventurous enough, then work it out in a constructive way. Don’t do something reckless and dangerous. Try doing something you think could make a difference. A positive change.” He laid a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “You don’t need to be untrue to yourself to have fun.”
Kurt smiled reluctantly. “Thanks, Dad,” he said quietly.

“Try not to cause any more national scandals, bud.” Kurt let out a mock affronted gasp, and his dad chuckled, but his features sobered soon after. “By the way, that was a good thing you did for that kid, giving him someone to talk to. He could probably use someone who understands him right now. I would have preferred you give him the number of Rachel’s dads, but it’s too late for that now.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if he’ll even call.”

“But you gave him the option,” his dad replied, looking at him seriously. “I love you, son.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

He left the room, and Kurt was left at his vanity, alone with his thoughts.

~~~

Over the next few days, barely a word was exchanged between Blaine and his father or mother besides, “Can you pick up that suitcase for me?” and “The gate for our flight is this way.” It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable; life had been similar after the Sadie Hawkins dance once his mother had stopped fussing over his injuries. As they healed and no longer provided a distraction, his parents were left with only the stark truth of Blaine’s confession, the elephant in the room they did their best to ignore.

And here was another elephant, larger, more exacerbated, and went beyond just the mention of homosexuality. This time, they had actual videoed proof, not simply the bruises of some vague intent. “Gay” was more than just an identity when you ground it against someone else’s body and explored it with sweaty, eager hands surrounded by other men of the same persuasion. But what the two incidences did have in common was the fact that Blaine was apparently implicitly deciding to embarrass his father and ruin his mounting career. And once he was completely sober and in the throes of one of the most agonizing headaches he’d ever experienced, Blaine couldn’t fight the unspoken assessment. Grinding all over a strange guy in public was not him; it was the antithesis of a Dalton gentleman and everything he was raised to be. He knew what being the son of a prominent politician entailed, and had accepted it. No matter how striking those blue eyes had been, or how soft that hair had looked, Blaine made a fool out of himself and essentially attempted to derail his father’s campaign for nothing. Just a few days ago, he worried he was not living up to expectations, and here he proved that exact concern. He couldn’t blame his parents for staying silent around him; Blaine wouldn’t have much to say to himself either.

At Dalton, Blaine knew he was slipping even further. Of course he kept up in all of his assignments and extra-curriculars, because if he failed in those on top of the recent problems he caused his father, he might as pay for his own one-way ticket to Siberia. But the effort of keeping on top of everything meant the happy face he kept permanently fixed (except for that brief time in freshman year) had melted away into a sort of half grimace. Walking down the halls, he received more than a few double takes and curious gazes, but Blaine just couldn’t find the added strength within himself to properly affix his usual grin. Trent, Nick, and Jeff shot him anxious glances during lunch, but they seemed to have learned better than to try to confront him about it since the encounter last week. Blaine attempted to join in the laughter and commentary around the table, but it required more of an effort than usual. Eventually he just focused on making it through the day.

~~~

The next day at McKinley there was a short announcement at the beginning of the day about the election for senior class president, and then Kurt was thrown back into the monotony of physics and science and history. Kurt dealt with his boredom by tapping his finger on the desk, and when that failed, he looked examined which places on his skin needed extra special focus when he moisturized. But on his way out of history class, Azimio crowded close and locker-checked him swiftly enough that it could appear to be a mistake. Kurt pressed his lips together and rubbed his forearm where it had connected with the metal. He thought of yesterday when he told Blaine about how the bullying had subsided. It had definitely, as he was no longer the worst target since news of Karofsky’s fate spread, but that suspension had only happened because there was a foolproof witness to Karofsky’s kiss - some basketball player dawdling in the locker room after practice. Karofsky had transferred out of shame and fear more than anything else, and despite the other boy’s threats, Kurt couldn’t help but feel sorry for him when he saw how quickly the other football players exiled him. Some of the names previously used towards him in school were now extended to Karofsky, and Kurt shuddered to think what was happening out of school. At least he had caring and accepting, if sometimes oblivious and self-obsessed, friends.

Those friends now eagerly waved him over to the table in the cafeteria, and Rachel asked him about his trip to D.C. Kurt had practiced his abbreviated version of events, telling them about how uninteresting it was to sort papers and keep his dad on schedule instead of dirty dancing with political candidates’ sons.

“But what was the city like?” Rachel asked. “Anything like the shining skyline of New York?”

“Uh, I didn’t really get out to explore much.” Kurt thought his hesitation wasn’t very noticeable, but Santana raised her head like a fox catching a whiff of prey.

“You didn’t actually do something exciting, did you, Hummel?” she asked, suspicion tainting her voice. Rachel whipped her head back to Kurt and gasped when he couldn’t restrain the blush that spread across his pale skin. While he normally prized his complexion, he didn’t when it betrayed emotions he’d rather keep quiet.

She clapped her hands together in excitement. “What did you do, Kurt? Escape past security at the White House? Stumble upon undercover members of the CIA? Have a forbidden tryst with a handsome stranger at midnight?”

Kurt was glad he was already blushing or else his red cheeks would have given away how unexpectedly accurate the third of those guesses had been.

“Of course not, Rachel,” he said. “I did go into a bar one night when my dad was sleeping, but it was boring so I left soon after.”

“Boo, you did not!” Mercedes exclaimed. Santana raised her brows, reluctantly impressed.

~~~

(Something happens at school that makes Kurt decide to run for senior class president. He thinks this would let him take part in his fate instead of passively letting it happen. If he really wanted to prove that he was not scared, this would be the way to do it)

Kurt swept in through the front door of his house, mind whirring with all that had happened that day. The senior class presidential elections would be a perfect way to take a risk, but a constructive risk, like his dad had advised. As senior class president, he could make some real changes, finally be in a position where people would really listen to him. He didn’t have to be invisible and unappreciated any longer, the boy whose suffering his friends didn’t even notice. No one deserved to be bullied like he had been, to such a terrifying extent, and maybe he could implement some policies at McKinley to better prevent the same thing happening to anyone else. For once, Kurt let himself dream, momentarily ignoring the improbability of winning what would most likely turn into a popularity contest, and hurried to his desk to make a list and outline a few thoughts buzzing around in his head. He certainly had plenty of ideas on how to improve McKinley, and Kurt furiously scribbled them down, excited with the new possibilities.

The sun was going down when “Vogue” by Madonna played, muffled, somewhere among his sheets. He found his phone and brought the screen to eye level and froze. Blaine Anderson.

Kurt couldn’t move. When he had given his number to the senator’s son yesterday, he’d kind of hoped he would call, but he had been still a little drunk and Kurt didn’t know how much presence of mind the boy had. Kurt’s heart had ached in sympathy for him, because he knew what it was like to not be accepted for who he was, and the pain was obvious in Blaine’s voice, clear-minded or not. Kurt supposed, looking at it from an outsider’s perspective, that he should have no reason to keep in contact with the boy: he had hit on him while drunk at a gay bar, started grinding and sucking on his neck, gotten Kurt involved in the threat of political scandal that would publicly embarrass the both of them, yelled at his father about blowjobs and then sobbed on Kurt’s shoulder. Actually, Kurt really had active reason not to remain in contact with him. But Kurt just couldn’t believe that the boy who had stared up at Kurt in the cab like a puppy-cat and curled into his side in the hotel had been anything but lost and unsure and vulnerable. What if Kurt’s family and friends had not been accepting of him? Would he be as conflicted and reckless?

And here was Blaine, calling him. Maybe he wanted advice. Oh, God. Kurt had offered support, but what if he wanted Kurt to talk to his dad and convince him to accept his son? Kurt definitely was not cut out to do that. His own coming-out to the people closest to him had gone remarkably well, but when it came to his bullies, he had been lost and unsure what to do. He had felt like Blaine did. Blaine’s father was running for vice president. If people found out about his son, his campaign would be majorly derailed. That was way out of Kurt’s depth and he had no idea on how to handle something like that.

But his phone was still ringing and he needed to bite the bullet and pick up the phone. Kurt pushed aside his frantic worries and pressed the answer button.
“Hello?” Kurt said, voice shaking a little despite himself.

Static came through the line that sounded like someone clearing their throat.
“Yes, hello. Is, is this Kurt Hummel?” The voice, though a little distorted through the phone, definitely sounded like Blaine’s, although there was no slurring this time. Rather, it was strong and authoritative, more like how he thought a politician’s son would sound.

“Yeah, this is Kurt.”

“Kurt. Hi. This is Blaine Anderson. We, uh, met the other day.”

Well that was certainly one way of putting it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I remember,” Kurt said. The air in his bedroom felt stiller than usual as he waited for what Blaine would say next. What he wanted.

“Right, well, I just wanted to apologize, Kurt, for my disrespectful and inappropriate behavior towards you and your father. I, uh, don’t remember much from that night, but I did see the footage... and I have a faint memory of you, uh, consoling me yesterday morning?” Kurt could practically hear the wince through the phone. He felt his heart sink.

(Basically they end the call with Blaine apologizing formally and Kurt feeling upset. Later, however, they meet again at a fundraiser both Blaine and Kurt’s family attend through their fathers. They decide to keep in touch, and, of course, are very attracted to each other. Finally it all comes to a head when Kurt cheers Blaine up by sneaking him out of one of his father’s events, which he never does, and...)

~~~

And suddenly they were close, so close together, and they went silent at the same time as they both realized. The jovial expression faded from Kurt’s face, and Blaine was sure his own features had dropped as well.
Kurt noticeably inhaled, and a tip of pink poked between his lips as he licked them. Blaine swallowed, feeling a faint rise of panic.

“I can’t, Kurt...I...I-”

“Yes, you can.”

There was barely any space between them now, and Blaine could feel Kurt’s breath on his cheeks, and all the hair on his skin was standing up, and it felt like all of his senses were heightened, the air crackling between them as that distance grew smaller and smaller. Blaine had nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape; his fears were directly confronting him in the form of a lush pink mouth crowding in on him and faintly, oh so faintly, brushing his own. 

Electricity shot and tingled at the contact and it gave him a taste of the potential of what this held, of what everything held, but the faint touch was not enough, it gave no satisfaction. Then Kurt pushed forward, pressing his lips down over Blaine’s, and Blaine felt like he could sob from how good it was. He instantly needed more, needed the physical pressure and something to hold on to, and so he wound a hand around Kurt’s neck and used it for leverage to better pull them together. A small “mmph,” left Kurt, but he too brought an arm around Blaine’s back, and Blaine felt locked in by the thing that scared him most and it was amazing.

Slowly, Kurt began to work his lips open, adjusting his position, and the little pink tip of his tongue slipped into Blaine’s mouth and licked along his own tongue. And oh, if that didn’t make everything better. Blaine was warm all over and he was tingling and everything felt fuzzy and sharp at the same time. Mostly, he just felt Kurt, under his palm and lips and stealing all his breath and leaving him incoherent and lightheaded.

Oh. He couldn’t breathe. That was something he unfortunately needed to do, so Blaine pulled back reluctantly. Kurt’s eyes were still closed and stayed that way for a moment before languidly opening. He took in the look on Blaine’s face and tilted his head, asking uncertainly, “Blaine?”

Blaine focused on breathing. “Yeah?”

“I-” Kurt hesitated. “Are you okay? That was... really good for me, but I need to know that that was okay for you too and I didn’t push too much because I can’t be deluding myself with my feelings for you and misreading the signals because I know you’re scared but-”

“Kurt.” Blaine finally regained his breath and his orientation on the world and looked into the open blue eyes before him. “I may be scared, but.” Blaine’s hand was still on Kurt’s neck, and he rubbed his thumb against his skin. “I think we’ve both seen that I want you too much to back away.”

There was a beat, and Kurt’s mouth dropped open, and then their lips were crashing back together, and his arms wrapped around Blaine’s waist as they gloried in the reciprocated want between them.

~~~

Blaine couldn’t fight the smile that kept threatening to break across his face. Although he was adjusting his tie in preparation for a rare family dinner, the threat of the oppressive silence wasn’t enough to damper his mood when he could still distract his mind thinking of Kurt, his preferred activity lately. Kurt, who kissed him so fearlessly the other day, crowding him in that empty library they had found outside of the function room at whatever big society member’s house that had been. Kurt, whose kisses were made up of electricity and had the amazing ability to simultaneously scare Blaine and be his biggest source of safety in the world. Blaine was so distracted he nearly sat in his mother’s chair before his mother walked over, asking in confusion, “Blaine?”

He mumbled his apologies and found his regular seat, and a few minutes later his father came bustling in. They were well into the meal when he registered someone calling his name.

“Blaine?” His mother was saying, her tone more questioning than anything although she had the air of someone repeating herself.

“Sorry, what?” Blaine asked, extracting himself from his thoughts.

His father fixed him with a studying look. “You’ve been distracted all night, Blaine. What is going on with you?”

Blaine pursed his lips and straightened in his seat. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he said. “I just... there’s been a lot of schoolwork lately. Just a lot to keep on top of, is all.”
There was a beat as his father took in his words. “I see,” he said evenly. “Well, we can’t have you behind on your schoolwork now of all times. If you need to devote more time to your studies, then do it. We can sacrifice going to a few events as a family for you to keep up your grades.”

Blaine registered faint surprise at the sanctioned reprieve, but he was mostly relieved that his father accepted his hasty excuse. He breathed a sigh a relief. His father interrupted again with a nonchalant, “How’s Kurt?”

Blaine nearly fell out of his chair.

“Wh- what?” he spluttered.

“Kurt. Kurt Hummel,” his father repeated, cutting off another piece of his steak. “You remember him. How is he doing?”

Blaine struggled to form coherent thoughts while his heart beat furiously.
“Um, why-,” He swallowed, “why do you ask that?”

His father‘s eyes pierced him. “I was looking for you at the Evanson event the other day to introduce you to some colleagues when I saw you slip out the door with the Congressman’s son. I didn’t know you still talked to him.”

Blaine cleared his throat.

“I, uh, yeah. We, uh, we’ve become, sort of, friends.” And sort of more than that. But his father didn’t need to know that, or how well acquainted their tongues had become the other day. 

Actually, that was the last thing he needed to think about now.

“Friends.” His father repeated.

Blaine shot a glance to his mother. “Uh, yeah.”

There was a small hmmph, but thankfully his mother took that opportunity to ask about an upcoming campaign stop, and Blaine closed his eyes in relief.

~~~

(So now they are basically boyfriends! But Blaine’s issues with his father don’t end, of course, and he doesn’t stop being scared. He and his dad get into a fight...)

Blaine felt furious tears begin to well in his eyes as he stalked over to where his car keys hung on the wall.

“And where are do think you’re going?” His father demanded, following him around the corner.

“To Lima. I’m going to Kurt’s house,” Blaine spit out, grabbing his coat from the hook.

“Not without my permission you’re not,” his father said. Blaine spun around to face him.

“Oh I’m not, am I? Well actually I’ve been driving out to Lima a few times a week without your permission, Dad! And when we don’t have an event scheduled during the weekend when I’m at home, I drive out to spend time at Kurt’s house. I’ve met his dad, and his stepmom, and stepbrother. They’re all really nice people, and they always ask me how I’m doing, to make sure I’m okay. Because they know how hard this is for me. How much pressure I’m feeling. When was the last time you asked me that?” Blaine shouted, eyes flashing as he looked into his father’s slightly taken aback gaze.

“Now I’m going to Lima,” Blaine said firmly. “Whether you like it or not.” And with that he opened the door and hurried out into the night.

~~~

(Kurt and Blaine’s relationship continues to progress...)

Kurt led Blaine by the hand into his bedroom, easing him down gently into the armchair by his bed. Blaine silently looked up at Kurt with wide eyes. His posture was small and curled in on himself, as if Kurt was about to attack him.
Kurt moved toward him with utter slowness, eyes locked on Blaine all the while, taking in how his chest was moving up and down in short, rapid bursts. Kurt placed his hands with quiet deliberation on Blaine’s shoulders, pausing a moment, and then leaned one knee onto the cushion beside Blaine’s khaki-clad leg. Blaine inhaled sharply. Kurt brought up the other until he was fully straddling him.

They were so close now, so fully in each other’s bubble that the sense of anticipation crackled between them. As Kurt stared into Blaine’s fearful eyes, like that of cornered prey, and knew that this was the point of no return. The moment hung charged and bursting, and when Blaine gave a tiny nod, Kurt placed a hand on the side of his flat stomach and ran it up the fabric of Blaine’s chest. Warmth emanated through the thin cotton of his shirt from his stomach and ribs and softly defined pecs, perceptibly toned even through the barrier between them. Blaine’s eyes rolled back at the close dragging sensation and he began to shiver uncontrollably. But Kurt pushed forward, wanting to give this boy the world, everything they both wanted and couldn’t ask for, every forbidden pleasure Blaine denied himself. And if that meant who they were was wrong, then he would gladly sin like Blaine’s father believed if it meant he could taste the salty skin trembling before him.

Kurt removed his hand now and alighted the tips of his fingers oh so gingerly at the hinge of Blaine’s jaw, skimming across the plane, barely tickling the hairs there. He lingered down his chin, then his neck, slightly sticky from sweat, and then finally across his heated collarbone. Blaine let out the smallest shaking gasp. Kurt gazed at his face. The other boy was so beautiful like this, dark brows lifted and tightly knit together, the red bud of his mouth open in aching pleasure, and Kurt wanted to see him look like this forever. He inclined his head to Blaine’s neck, huffing warm breath to tickle and caress the skin there, before Kurt lightly circled his own mouth around his wildly bobbing Adam’s apple. A soft whimper sounded above him, and Kurt took it as encouragement to circle his lips around the bump, and licked the tip of his tongue around it, tasting Blaine and his hot skin, salty, just like he’d predicted. The taste was so glorious and heady and masculine that Kurt could no longer linger solely teasing the boy unfurled beneath him. Without warning, he locked his mouth around the Adam’s apple tightly and sucked, tracing his tongue around in tantalizing designs and eager patterns.

Blaine let out a high-pitched mewl, head falling back completely now and body arching into the sensation. Kurt felt a surge of power through unraveling Blaine, and trailed his mouth down his neck and into the hollow at the base of his throat, pushing his hands around Blaine’s middle. Blaine’s own hands spasmed uncertainly in the air above the arms of the chair.

Kurt pulled back now, gaze on Blaine who was faced away, breathing heavily and occasionally letting out a tiny, unrestrainable whimper. Kurt felt a tightening in his chest, and ran his palms up Blaine’s biceps.

“Hey,” he murmured, eyes on Blaine. There was no response from the trembling boy.

“Hey,” he tried again, this time resting a hand on Blaine’s cheek, guiding his face so his gaze met Kurt’s own. Blaine’s eyes were wider than ever, liquid and open and vulnerable, mouth drawn apprehensively. His shaking had lessened somewhat, but the wracked tremors still cut through his form as if he were chilled, when Kurt knew first-hand how warm his skin was.

“Hey,” Kurt said once again, but more firmly this time. He cupped both hands to Blaine’s cheeks. “You’re okay, honey. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” Blaine breathed deeply, his eyes trained inexorably on Kurt.

“I want to give you more,” Kurt continued gently. “I want to give you everything. But you need to look at me. Okay?”

He carefully brushed away some hair that had loosed from the hold of the gel off of Blaine’s forehead and waited. Blaine pressed in his lips together, hands curling around the arms of the chair as he breathed in again, slow and shaky. But he nodded, and kept his eyes focused on Kurt.

Kurt smiled softly. “Say it to me, okay, Blaine? Just say it out loud and I’ll give it to you.”

Blaine whimpered, staring up at Kurt, bound to his promise to keep eye contact. Once again, Kurt was crowding him as he had in the library, confronting him with his fears and cutting off his attempts to avoid this integral part of him, this part that people attempted to beat out of him, and forced him to deny and push down deep inside, but also the part that allowed him this wonderful boy in his life, who was looking down at him with soft gentle eyes. Kurt watched Blaine swallow, and the slight parting of his lips as he breathed out, “yes.”

Yes, Blaine was still scared, but all Kurt needed to know was that his trust and want outweighed his lingering fears. Kurt may not have any more experience than Blaine in this regard, but he could follow his senses enough to give this boy what they both needed.

Kurt reached forward and clasped Blaine’s curled hands on the chair, unfolding them and placing them on his own stomach in a mimic of what he had done earlier. With his hands covering their backs, Kurt guided Blaine’s palms up his chest, skimming across his nipples where the fabric caught and created a titillating pinching sensation. Kurt let out his own hum of pleasure and whispered, “You feel so good, Blaine. You make me feel good.” He waited for the answering awed nod, and then, gazes still locked, slowly and deliberately rolled his hips down where he could feel Blaine hard against him.

Blaine moaned loudly and immediately flushed, choking off at the end, but he didn’t remove his gaze. Kurt shook his head, wrapping a hand around the back of Blaine’s neck and leaned in close, saying, “No, no, let me hear it,” and rolled his hips once more, harder. Blaine’s moan was positively wanton this time, like he couldn’t keep it in even if he tried.

“Yeah, that’s it, let it out,” Kurt encouraged, lust surging within him, and continued to thrust, faster and faster, whimpering a little himself now. But nothing could match Blaine’s wrecked sounds, more desperate and unrestrained by the minute. It was as if their gazes were connected by an invisible force, looking away not even a possibility, and as Kurt stared into Blaine’s wide eyes he felt like he was looking right into every fear and denial the boy had suffered over the years, finally being unearthed here between them.

“Let it out,” Kurt breathed, and Blaine’s gaze finally broke as he shut his eyes, shuddered once more and came hard. Kurt rocked forward, only needing a few thrusts to follow him over the edge, before falling forward, forehead settling at the curve of Blaine’s neck. They both limply rode out the aftershocks, hips occasionally twitching. With his thumb Kurt stroked Blaine’s neck, listening to his breathing calm, and when he regained some semblance of control over his movements, and pulled back to check on Blaine.

Blaine’s eyes were closed, but opened when he felt Kurt shift above him. Kurt was struck with how relaxed Blaine looked, the tension in his shoulders gone for once, leaving him boneless and pliant. He had never seen Blaine so calm before. His eyes were soft with affection as he watched Kurt, who placed his palm on the side of his cheek and stroked.

Blaine nudged his cheek further into Kurt’s hand, and Kurt smiled

.
“I love you,” Blaine said, looking up at him with meltingly trusting eyes. Emotion swelled within Kurt, and he held Blaine’s face tenderly with both hands and kissed him, whispering, “I love you, too.” And whispering it again and again between soft, sweet kisses, but not able to tear himself away from the look in Blaine’s eyes for long. At least for this moment, he let himself soak up the feeling rolling off the two of them in waves and saturating the space of safety and trust they had created for themselves.