Blaine had just finished performing one of the programs that his private coach, Henrik, had taught him when he heard applause coming from over his shoulder. He turned to find Isabelle and Kurt in the shadows at the far end of the room, giving him a standing ovation. They'd seen him skate parts of the program innumerable times, but it was first time they'd seen the whole thing put together and skated cleanly.

"You're triple axel is amazing, Blaine!" Isabelle exclaimed as she ran up and grabbed his hand. "I can't believe how quickly you've gotten a handle it. We're going to blow the other skaters out of the water at Regionals. They won't know what hit them."

Blaine basked in the compliment, wanting to roll around in it like a puppy in clothes fresh from the dryer. He knew there was still a lot of room for improvement, but he also knew that he'd picked things up much faster than anyone had expected and he was proud of how far he'd come. "Kurt and I are supposed to begin training together full-time next month. Do you think we're still on track, or…?"

Isabelle grinned and looked over at Kurt, who smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders. "I'd say we're ahead of schedule, actually. How would you feel about moving things up a bit? Say to next week?"

Blaine stared at her in disbelief. "Next week? You really think I'm ready?"

"I do. And having an extra month for pairs training will be good, because the programs we've come up with are not easy by anyone's standards." Isabelle patted his hand and stepped away. "I'm going to go work on the details with Henrik."

Blaine shook his head as he watched her go. "Are you sure about this, Kurt? You two aren't just saying this to make me feel good about myself?"

Kurt snorted and arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Right, 'cause I'm the altruistic sort who always does things solely to make others feel good about themselves. You're ready. It's as simple as that." He gave Blaine a parting nod and headed for the door.

Blaine pushed back and performed a quick, joyful scratch spin, barely able to contain his little yell of excitement.

"You'd better get your rest this weekend," Kurt called from the doorway. "Because now is when the hard part begins."

=^..^=

Kurt hadn't been exaggerating.

Blaine had been skating almost daily for over a year and a half, but nothing had prepared him for the death march that was the preparation for competition. Chen stayed on for the first week to help teach him the choreography for the short program, which included a list of elements that they would be required to successfully perform, including the two triple jumps he'd been working so hard on.

When he'd first sat down in the bleachers on the first day of official pairs training to watch Kurt and Chen run through both the short and long programs, Blaine had been a little worried that they might have watered things down and kept the elements simple in order to make things easier for him. It took him only a few minutes to realize that the exact opposite was true. The long program had twice as many triple jumps as he was expecting and complicated lifts that he hadn't seen before in any of the videos he'd watched. The footwork sequence halfway through was so intricate and fast that he could barely see Kurt's feet moving. How was he going to learn all this in the nine months before their first competition?

They began skating six days a week, spending over eight hours a day at the rink. Isabelle kept telling him that the first part was the hardest, that learning the choreography as well as wrapping his mind around the new elements was going to take some time, and that one day it would all just click, but he wasn't sure he really believed her.

Kurt was surprisingly patient, though Blaine knew that it must be frustrating for him to have to slow things down in order to give Blaine time to catch on. He'd caught Kurt rolling his eyes a few times and heard a few soft huffs of impatience when it took him longer than usual to get the hang of something, but he'd long ago started to find all of his irritation charming. All part of the Kurt Hummel experience.

Blaine fell into bed each night, almost asleep before his head hit the pillow. His body ached from the tips of his little toes to the ends of his eyelashes and all fibers in between. But even beyond that, his brain was tired. Trying to memorize each push of his skate, each flick of his wrist, each hand hold, and footwork sequence was threatening to push out some of the thousands of song lyrics he'd spent his high school years learning by heart. He'd always joked that if he remembered actual useful information instead of song lyrics he'd be smart enough to rival one of those so-smart-they-can't-be-anything-but-evil villains in a comic book — he'd always imagined that his secret identity would be "Nightbird" — but the other day he'd been unable to recall the lyrics to Manic Monday and he'd almost wept. First hockey, now song lyrics? Was everything he loved to be taken from him?

OK, so maybe he got a little melodramatic when he was tired.

He wasn't overstating how exhausted he was, though. He'd realized the day before that it had been months since he'd been out with Artie or any other of his friends. He went from his apartment to the rink and back and that was about it. He was beginning to feel like a hermit. An abstinent, exhausted, song lyric-less hermit.

=^..^=

The days were zooming by faster than Kurt could ever remember. It seemed like the last time he'd been able to take a breath it had been November and now it was mid-February. Only 7 months to go before their first competition at Regionals and he could already feel the dread building up in the pit of his stomach. They'd be ready, he didn't really have any doubts about that, but it had been too long since he'd been out on the ice under the harsh glare of the judge's eyes and he was apprehensive.

He and Blaine had spent the last two months working on their short program, drilling on the required elements and choreography until Blaine could do the routine in his sleep, both backwards and forwards. It was finally at the point where they were all happy with it and it was now time to begin work on the long program.

Kurt had been dreading the switch, not because of the physical demands — which were great — but because mentally he wasn't sure if he was prepared. Despite his protests, Isabelle had pushed for a romantic theme to the program, saying that he and Blaine had the chemistry to make it work. It was basically four minutes and thirty seconds of intimate lifts, deep eye contact, and skating so close that they almost seemed like one body. Needless to say, it wasn't in Kurt's comfort zone. His programs with Chandler had always been athletic and theatrical, using the costumes and music to create a little play for the audience. They'd been conquering Vikings, elegant country gentlemen engaged in a duel, and cat burglars making their next big score, but never lovers. The program Isabelle had pushed for with Blaine was all raw, deep emotion. Without his theatrics to hide behind, Kurt felt terrified. Exposed.

In the week leading up to their first long program practice, he kept having a reoccurring dream where he skated out on the ice for their first competition only to discover that he was naked. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him.

The first training sessions went better than expected, though. They did simple lifts as placeholders for the more difficult elements that they would work on later and concentrated on learning the rhythm and flow of the piece. The trouble came weeks later when Blaine got comfortable enough with the program to start adding performance to it. The first time he gathered Kurt into his arms during the slow interlude section of the music and looked at him with heart eyes that could probably been seen from space, Kurt nearly melted into the floor and completely forgot the choreography.

"Could you not do that?" he snapped as they finished up a run-through and skated off to center ice to begin again.

"What?"

"Look at me like you're Pepé Le Pew and I'm Penelope."

"But Kurt, we're supposed to be in loooove!" Blaine put on a French accent, batted his eyes, and swept Kurt over his arm into a dip.

Kurt slapped at Blaine's arm with his free hand until he was lifted up. "Well, stop it. It's distracting." Blaine looked surprised. "To you! Distracting to you. You should be concentrating on the moves. We'll add the performance in later."

Blaine gave him a sunny smile and took his place for the beginning of the program. "Don't worry. It's not distracting for me. The performance part just comes naturally. It'd be harder to not do it at this point."

Kurt grimaced and took his own position. He was in trouble.

Kurt knew that an attraction to Blaine had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but he was nothing if not good at ignoring the things he didn't want to deal with. But being held by Blaine, looking deep into his eyes and twirling in his arms as they glided across the ice, feeling Blaine's legs entwine around his waist during the one lift they had perfected — it was all too much, even for his advanced suppression skills. He was on edge and his lack of control irritated him. The cracks were starting to show.

One of the cracks burst open one day in March when, at the end of practice, Isabelle announced that they were going to have four days off from practice the next week.

Kurt could count the number of unexpected days off he'd had while training on one hand. Something was up. "Why? We're almost done locking down the choreography."

"Blaine's asked for some time off and you guys have been working so hard that I think this is the perfect time to take a little break," Isabelle said brightly.

Kurt turned to Blaine, hands on hips. "Why do you need time off? Is the schedule getting to you?" he asked, cringing inside at the accusation in his voice.

"No, it's just that a good friend from the Canucks is getting married in Las Vegas, so I'm heading out for the bachelor party and the ceremony."

Kurt stared at him, dumbfounded. "A four day bachelor party and wedding?"

"Yeah, these guys are kind of wild, so they made sure to schedule a recovery day between the party and the actual wedding. God, it's been so long since I've been out I might have forgotten how it's done. You should see the list of clubs we're going to. I actually kind of had a dream last night that I was in The Hangover. It's probably not far off—"

"A bachelor party?" Kurt voice rose to an embarrassing pitch. "I broke my finger last year and I got one day off. My dad got re-elected to Congress and I got one day off to attend the swearing in. I skate on birthdays and anniversaries and Christmas. No matter what's going on in the world, I skate. Then, now when we have less than 6 months to get two brand new programs off the ground, you go and give him four days off so that he can go get his dick sucked in a bar by a random in Las Vegas?"

Kurt's outrage bounced off the walls, the last word echoing around them. He clasped a hand to his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the fallout to come.

The sound of chuckling caught him off guard. Then, the chuckle became a full-fledged belly laugh.

"That was epic, Kurt," Blaine gasped out as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "I've never heard the words 'dick sucked' uttered at such a…high frequency. I just…" He paused as his laughter overwhelmed him again. "Please don't be offended, but… There was a guy in my high school who used to get really upset and he'd talk so fast and high pitched that we used to call it 'Beaker rage'. You know, after that lab assistant Muppet who only said 'Mee-mee-mee mee?'" Blaine raised his voice to a squeak as he mimicked the character's voice. "That, my friend, was Beaker rage if I've ever heard it. In fact, I may just call you 'Beaker' from now on."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, distracted from his momentary anger and current embarrassment by Blaine comparing him to an inarticulate puppet with, if he remembered correctly, shockingly bad hair and bug eyes. "My hair's high, but not that high, thank you very much." he grumbled.

"I've personally always seen you as more of an Oscar the Grouch type," Isabelle giggled through the fingers she'd raised to her lips at the beginning of his tirade.

"Oh my god, it just gets worse." Kurt let his lead drop back on his shoulders and searched the heavens for the reason why he'd been saddled with two such annoyingly good natured people. "I refuse to be anything but insulted at being compared to a character whose defining trait is that he loves trash. I personally see myself as one of the old guys from the balcony, forever doomed to be tortured by those of lesser talent who won't leave the stage, just waiting for the day when the giant hook comes out from stage left and pulls them away."

The conversation continued as they laughingly tried to find Muppet characters for Blaine and Isabelle and ended with Blaine threatening to bring in a playlist of Muppet songs for their next practice. Kurt's good humor was restored, though he knew deep down inside that he was still bothered by the upcoming time off. He told himself it was only because of missed training and nothing else.

Blaine caught his distracted look and reached over to rub a hand gently up and down his back. "We'll be able to pick off where we left off when I get back, Kurt. Trust me. We'll be fine."

Kurt nodded and then dropped behind him as they entered the locker room. Blaine had just unknowingly touched on the root of all their problems. Kurt didn't trust anyone. Not really.

When Blaine returned, he seemed much more relaxed. Kurt refused to dwell too long on the reasons why that might be.

=^..^=

Training resumed and before long they had both programs locked. They would spend the next three months tightening and perfecting before their first competition.

"Watcha reading?" Blaine plopped himself down on one of the comfy chairs in the reading nook (a wonderful purchase, if he did say so himself) and looked over at Kurt, who was curled up in chair, his head leaning against the overstuffed back, a tablet computer on his lap.

"Just looking at some costume options for the long program," Kurt answered absently as he swiped a finger across the screen. "I've got to select designs this week in order to get the finished products in time for Regionals."

"Oh! Can I help?"

Kurt finally glanced up, blinking owlishly as his eyes refocused. "Really, Blaine? This doesn't seem like your area."

"Of course! I want to help with everything." Kurt looked mutinous for a second and Blaine could swear he saw him physically bite his tongue to prevent whatever smart-aleck retort his brain had prepared from leaving his mouth. "Come on. Share your toys."

Kurt gave a long suffering sigh. "All right."

The chair Kurt was sitting on was really almost a loveseat, so Blaine made a little scooting motion, asking him to slide over to make room. He settled into the cushions, his right side plastered tight to Kurt's left, and reached out a hand to steady the tablet between them.

"Oh, I like that one!" he noted, pointing to a simple, classic bodysuit in black with buttons running down in two lines on the front, mimicking a military-style coat.

"I'm all for retro when the occasion calls for it, but that's a little too '1992 Battle of the Brians' for me." Kurt sighed again at Blaine's confused look. "If you're going to be a figure skater you simply must know about Brian Boitano and Brian Orser at the Calgary Olympics. Research it before our next practice. I'll expect a full color commentary and possibly an ode to Boitano's ass. Don't worry, you'll thank me."

"Yes, sir." Blaine gave him a mocking salute and turned his attention back to the screen. "If you don't like my suggestion, what are you leaning towards?"

"Well…" Kurt looked excited, which should have been warning. "I was thinking this one. Plaid is really in on this year's runway. It's très chic."

Blaine stared at the costume in question, not sure he fully comprehended what he was seeing. "It's brown. Brown plaid. And what's that…stuff across the front? I don't understand."

"It's avant guard, Blaine. You're not supposed to understand," Kurt sniffed.

"It looks like an old Scottish guy got tagged with graffiti."

Kurt glared at him. "It's based on a Walter Van Beirendonck design."

Blaine glared right back. "It's crap."

They argued like that for half an hour, unable to come to agreement, and things started to get a little heated, but in a good way. Blaine began to feel a bit turned on.

"Come on, Kurt. I know you want to be cutting edge, but it's going to be hard enough being the new kid on the block. Please don't make me wear something I won't be comfortable in."

Kurt's eyes softened. "Fine. I guess we can compromise."

"How about getting Blackbird to design them?" Blaine asked, remembering how much he'd liked the costumes he'd seen from the mysterious designer.

Kurt choked on his own spit and bent forward in a coughing fit. "No, um…too late. The wait list for Blackbird is too long. We'd never get in on time. I say we go with these." He pointed to a set of costumes that were meant to look like street clothes. Kurt's costume consisted of distressed jeans, dress shirt, vest, and tie, while the costume meant for Blaine included red pants, black shirt, and a red bow tie.

"Really?" Blaine asked skeptically. "10 minutes ago you hated them for being pedestrian and unimaginative."

"No, you were right. We should go with something simple to let the skating shine through. Plus, I think these really compliment the music and the mood we're going for. I hate to admit it…" Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine, who had just moved forward to look closer at the photos, and their faces came in very close together. Kurt blinked, but didn't pull back. "..b-but…you're really good at this."

The air grew thicker and the rest of the room faded out of focus as Blaine stared at Kurt, mesmerized by the colors playing in his eyes. He felt himself sway forward, unable to stop himself from wanting to feel the press of their lips together. He pulled a breath in through his parted lips and —

"Well, I must admit the last thing I expected to see when I walked in here was a proper library set-up."

The words, spoken with a British accent that Blaine would have found charming under in any circumstances, caused Kurt to leap back and press himself against the opposite arm of the chair.

"Adam! What…what are you doing here?" Kurt jumped up and ran over to his boyfriend, kissing him on the cheek.

"Unexpected changes to my travel itinerary left me with an extra day in Columbus, so I thought I'd pop over and see you," Adam said as he returned Kurt's kiss. "Should I have called first? I wanted it to be a surprise, but I don't wish to interrupt your training."

Kurt was shaking his head before Adam finished speaking. "No, it's fine. I'm glad you came. Blaine and I were just making the final decision on costumes for the competition season."

Kurt beckoned Blaine forward and made introductions. Adam was handsome, if slightly older looking than his reported 26 years, and had a sincere smile that Blaine liked. He could see why he and Kurt would make a good couple. They talked for a bit before Blaine suggested that they end practice early that day to allow Adam and Kurt some more time together. Kurt smiled his agreement and threaded his arm through Adam's as he pulled him towards the locker room, already chattering about a new restaurant he wanted to try out.

Blaine slowly started to gather his things up, doing his best to delay his entry into the locker room until after Kurt and Adam left. Right. Kurt had a boyfriend. He was completely off-limits and Blaine would be smart to remember that.