And then Blaine did the magnet thing again, and Kurt had to make up a lie about why he kept giggling when he broke off their kisses, because he was never, ever going to point that out to Blaine and risk him getting self-conscious about it and stopping.

Fortunately, Kurt had the twenty-minute drive back to his own side of town to get his body and his brain under control. The brain was harder. He felt full to ends of his fingertips with a giddy euphoria that was bubbling up through his chest and overflowing into an uncontrollable, ear-to-ear grin. All his fears about sex and not being good enough had evaporated in the sensation of Blaine, body curving away against his arms, head pressing into his should as he came at Kurt’s command. And that was the last thing he needed to be thinking about when he had to go spend the evening with his father, Carole and Finn.

Oh, God. Finn. What if Rachel had told Finn her suspicions about him meeting someone? Would Finn be stupid enough to bring something like that up at dinner? His dad would never let that go. Kurt wanted to tell them, but not tonight. He needed time to plan.

That thought alone was enough to sober Kurt up and by the time he pulled into his own driveway his acting skills were firmly in place. Not that it mattered. As it turned out Finn was far too occupied with his own life to make much trouble for Kurt. And as they passed around the roast chicken and baked potatoes Kurt kept him going, asking question after question about Coach Bieste’s plans for the fall football season, until even Carole was starting to look at him a little funny.

When the meal was over both Kurt and Finn hopped up to start clearing the table. “So the new Fast and Furious movie came today,” Burt said. “Anybody up for it tonight?”

“Uhh, I’m gonna meet Rachel later,” Finn said, piling up an impressive stack of plates and cups.

“Yeah, sorry, Dad,” Kurt chimed in. “The new history teacher is giving a test on Monday and if I want any free time this weekend I have to chain myself to my textbook tonight.”

“I really don’t like that guy,” Finn muttered as he tried to balance one more cup on his little tower of dinnerware.

Something pinched in Kurt’s chest. He stared at Finn and tried to sound nonchalant. “You don’t even know him, do you? Don’t you have Mrs. Delportillo for history?”

“Yeah, but Rachel won’t stop talking about him. If I have to hear one more time about how his eyes ‘positively shine with submission.’ Eyes don’t do that! The way she talks, you’d think he was her soulmate.”

Carole rubbed Finn’s arm. “Rachel loves you, honey. You know that.”

Kurt had to drag his brain away from the mental picture of Blaine’s eyes absolutely shining with submission before he could speak.

“He’s not her soulmate, Finn.”

“Yeah? How do you know? You don’t know what her mark says. Hell, I don’t know what her mark says.”

“I know because he’s gay.” Kurt picked up his stack of plates and carried them toward the kitchen.

“Wait!” Finn called, chasing after Kurt balancing his own precarious pile. “Are you sure about that?”

Kurt set down the dishes and pulled the dishwasher open. “Positive,” he said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“So is that a thing? You guys can just instantly recognize each other?”

Kurt had to bite his cheek to keep a straight face. “Yes, Finn. It’s a thing.”

Their parents had followed them in with the rest of the dishes and they all started a well-practiced assembly line of cleanup.

“But she won’t shut up about him!” Finn said.

Carole smiled at him. “Oh, honey,” she said, “that’s just the hot teacher fantasy. All girls go through it. I assume he is hot,” she asked Kurt.

“So hot,” Kurt said with a smile.

“She did have that crush on Mr. Schue last year,” Finn said, rinsing plates and handing them to Kurt.

“Well there you go,” Carole said. “It’s just a fun little fantasy. You’re her reality.”

Later, when Kurt was finally alone in his room with his little bottle of medical-grade lubricant, it wasn’t Blaine’s shining, submissive eyes he was fantasizing about, or the perfect swell of his ass, or even the sight of his hand sliding up and down his rosy-tipped cock. It was all the tactile things that came back to him and pushed him to stroke himself harder and faster. The catch of a tiny, hard nipple against his fingers through soft cotton. The feel under his lips of that place on Blaine’s neck where afternoon stubble gave way to smooth, soft skin. And the weight. More than anything the weight of Blaine’s body against his own, head thrown back, leaning on him; relying on him. Putting his pleasure in Kurt’s hands, metaphorically, if not literally.

He didn’t bother taking his time. He’d been up and down too many times today for that. He stroked himself with a kind of desperate speed, letting pleasure rocket through his body, and when he finally came it was to the memory of Blaine stiffening in his arms, open mouth working against his jaw, falling over into ecstasy because – and only because – Kurt allowed it.

He was pretty sure it was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had.

But despite his emotional afternoon with Blaine and the orgasm that left him limp and satiated, Kurt slept restlessly. His dreams were dark, amorphous things that he couldn’t remember in the morning. They left him with an odd feeling poking against the back of his brain that something wasn’t right. But he couldn’t put his finger on it no matter how hard he tried, so he pushed whatever it was out of his head and concentrated on getting ready for his very first date.

When he told Blaine that today was for him, he totally meant it. Today he wasn’t going to worry about acting like a dom or putting Blaine at ease, or trying to say or do the right thing. Today he was going to relax and let himself be exactly what he was: a teenager going on his very first date with an incredibly hot guy.

He took his time showering, styling and getting dressed (skinny jeans, crisp white button-down shirt, and the long, thin organic hemp scarf that Rachel had gotten him for Christmas last year) and managed to get downstairs, grab half a bagel and get out the door without anyone seeing him.

His first stop was the mall, and he took his time in Macy’s, poring over the display of black cuffs that were stacked carefully next to the wallets and purses. The one he chose was simple but beautiful; dark shining leather with a tiny, almost invisible stitching detail around the edges. The salesgirl didn’t quite manage to suppress her surprise at seeing someone so young buying a black cuff, but she boxed it up for him and he arrived on Blaine’s doorstep at exactly 12:00, tastefully wrapped package in hand. He gave four quick raps on the door and it opened almost before the last one fell.

Blaine looked amazing as always, with a red turtleneck hugging the lines of his torso in the most delicious way. His eyes swept up and down Kurt’s body, finally coming to rest on the black-wrapped box in Kurt’s hands.

“Is that for me?” he asked with a smile.

“It is,” Kurt said, “but you don’t get to open it yet. Maybe after lunch.” He moved past Blaine into the living room and set the box on the coffee table. When he turned back around Blaine was practically on top of him, expectant face tilted up.

“What?” Kurt asked.

“Don’t I get a hello kiss or something?”

“I’m pretty sure the kissing happens at the end of the date, not the beginning. Were you not listening when I said we were going to do this right?”

“I was,” Blaine said, pushing his bottom lip out in a tiny pout, “I just thought – since I jerked off in your arms last night – maybe we could skip some of the formalities.”

It didn’t even bother Kurt that he could feel himself blush at the mention of last night. He was sixteen – he was supposed to blush when someone talked about sex. “Did you miss the part where I said I’ve done nothing? This is my first date and we are doing it by the book.”

“Okay!” Blaine laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you want. Your wish is my command.”

“Duh,” Kurt said, pulling the door open and holding it for Blaine.

Blaine opened the door of what must have been a little closet and grabbed a jacket. “You know,” he said as he passed Kurt, “you don’t really didn’t strike me as the kind of person who says ‘duh’”.

“Oh God! Maybe Finn’s starting to rub off on me.” Kurt followed Blaine to the car, bouncing down the walk like a six-year-old at Disneyland. He didn’t care if it was undignified. He felt like a six-year-old at Disneyland.

“Who’s Finn?” Blaine asked as he climbed into the car.

That conversation took up most of the drive to the little restaurant Kurt had found online, just outside the northern limits of Lima. He’d tried to find a place where they were unlikely to run into anyone they knew, and the quirky caf� had seemed perfect. On the way, he treated Blaine to the saga of his family, complete with his crush on Finn and their disastrous first attempt to cohabitate. He learned from Blaine that his own parents were wealthy and respectable, and they’d achieved a kind of d�tente in their relationship, which was helped by the fact that Blaine was a serious, dedicated college student while his older brother was flitting around Hollywood pursuing the unsavory profession of acting.

“Wait, your brother is Cooper Anderson?!” Kurt said, after the waitress had delivered their drinks and taken their order. Blaine had been completely charmed to find that all the sandwiches and salads were named after birds, and he’d looked a little bit like a six-year-old himself as he happily ordered an Australian Osprey with a side of Ruby-Throated Hummingbird.

“Yes,” Blaine sighed, “and yes, he’s the Cooper Anderson on that cop sitcom.”

“’Battle of the Badge!’ My stepmother loves that show. Wait till I tell her . . .” Kurt trailed off at the thought of what telling her would actually entail.

“Yeah, about that . . .”

Kurt took a sip from his diet coke. “Well, I think we should just get it over with. The sooner the better. We usually have a late breakfast Sundays because the shop is closed, so I thought you could come over tomorrow and . . . take the plunge?”

Blaine shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “What if they hate me?” he asked.

“You’re my soulmate. That’s the one thing they can’t argue with. They can try and make rules about when we see each other, and where and how often, but they can’t do anything to really keep us apart.”

That kind of killed the conversation for a bit, but the waitress soon rescued them by delivering their food and they kept the conversation to safe topics like whether Kurt would ever get a competition solo and the genius (in Blaine’s opinion) of the blood oranges on the Ruby-Throated Hummingbird. Kurt loved seeing this new, whimsical side of Blaine. He himself was often accused of being too practical and down-to-earth, but anyone who paid any attention to his wardrobe had to admit that Kurt has his own streak of whimsy.

On the whole, everything was going beautifully and just according to plan. Blaine didn’t say a word when the check came and Kurt reached for his wallet. He let Kurt lead him out to the Navigator and hold the door for him to climb inside.

Their second stop was a tiny coffee shop, another Internet find, where they ordered drinks (and Kurt was happy to see that Blaine really did order plain drip) and settled into armchairs around a tiny table.

“So why would anyone ever leave New York to come back to Ohio and be a substitute teacher?” Kurt asked, sipping carefully at his hot mocha.

Blaine took a moment to think before he answered. “I guess I just needed a change,” he shrugged. “I’ve basically been in school my entire life. I was supposed to start on my Ph.D. last fall at NYU. But I sort of had a late identity crisis, I guess. I realized that my dream of teaching English or History at some private college in New England wasn’t ever really my dream at all. I was just following the path of least resistance.”

“So what’s your dream?”

Blaine hesitated again. “Have you ever heard of music therapy?”

“What’s that?”

Blaine took a sip of his coffee. “It’s pretty much what it sounds like. Using music for therapy. But it’s not just, you know, making people happy with music, although that’s part of it. But certain scales or progressions, the shape of the music can have a physiological effect on the brain.”

“Really?”

Blaine put his coffee down and leaned in closer to Kurt. His excitement lit up his face. “It’s amazing, actually. Like, when they play certain kinds of music during therapy, stroke victims actually relearn to walk faster.”

“Wow,” Kurt said, “That definitely sounds like you. But would you have to start all over again with school?”

Blaine shrugged. “My Bachelor’s degree is in education, which might be okay, but I’d probably have to start over at the graduate level, and I don’t know . . . I mean, now that I’ve met you . . . and you still have one more year of high school then I have no idea what you want to do . . .”

Kurt probably should have been concerned that their situation was making Blaine reevaluate his goals, but he was too busy feeling happy that Blaine was thinking about them merging their lives and plans like that. “So your jailbait boyfriend’s throwing a wrench in your ambitions, huh?”

Blaine laughed a little and lowered his eyes in a way that was almost shy. “Very nice, slipping the B word in there like that. Very smooth.”

“I thought so.”

Blaine took another sip of his coffee. “You’re not, you know,” he said casually.

A pain tightened in Kurt’s chest. “Not your boyfriend?” he asked.

“Oh, God, of course you are,” Blaine said, and Kurt took a little relieved breath. “After last night I think that’s the least of what you are!” He put his cup down and lowered his voice a bit. “I meant you’re not jailbait. Sixteen is the age of consent in Ohio.”

“How do I know you actually looked that up?” Blaine glanced down at the table and his face colored a little. Kurt took a quick look around the coffee shop – almost completely deserted now – and held his hand out, palm up, on the little table. “Give me your hand,” he said.

Blaine did his own survey of the room and then placed his hand gently on top of Kurt’s. “I promise we’ll work all this out,” Kurt said. “New York is my dream too, you know. So maybe you’ll wait another year, or maybe you’ll go without me for a while” – Kurt thrilled a little when Blaine’s head automatically shook in denial of that – “but I’m not going to settle for anything less than both of us living our dreams. We just have to find a way.”

Blaine’s hand squeezed his, “I’m starting to believe you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Don’t you forget that.”

They just smiled at each other then; another of what Kurt was coming to think of as their lovesick puppy moments. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of having those deep, beautiful eyes boring into his. He let his fingers move slowly under Blaine’s hand and Blaine responded, sitting still, stroking gently. The feather-light touches felt more intense than they should and sent little sparks of electricity shooting through Kurt’s belly.

“So how’s your first date going?” Blaine asked.

“I think it might be the best first date ever.”

“Any decision on that end-of-date kiss?”

Kurt grinned at him. “Play your cards right . . .”

“Blaine Anderson?!”

Blaine instantly snatched his hand back, and they both looked up to find a handsome, tall, blonde approaching their table with coffee in his hand. His smile was broad and toothy and he looked astonished to see Blaine.

“I thought that was you! Oh. My. God!”

Blaine rubbed his palms against his pants and grinned at the man in a way that seemed just a little forced. “Kev! Wow. What a surprise.”

“I know!” Kev snagged a chair from a nearby table and dragged it over to sit. “How long has it been? Like, four years, right? How crazy is this?!”

“Crazy . . .” Blaine just stared at the blonde man, and only seemed to remember Kurt when Kev looked pointedly at him. “Kev, this is my . . .”

Kurt jumped in to rescue him, trying not to feel disappointed. They had agreed not to go public, after all. “I’m Kurt.” He held out a hand that the blonde took in a strong grip. Kurt noticed the cuff on his left wrist at about the same time that Kev noticed Kurt’s.

“Kevin Chambers. Nice to meet you, Kurt.” His eyes shifted from Kurt to Blaine like he was trying to figure them out. “Blaine Anderson,” he said again, and Kurt wasn’t sure he liked the tone in his voice when he said it. Blaine, for his part, seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at either of the doms he was sitting with.

“So how do you two know each other?” Kurt forced himself to ask before Kev could beat him to it.

“We went to OSU together,” Blaine said.

Kevin barked a loud, sharp laugh. “Well that’s one way of putting it. Not that we ever had any classes together or anything. We actually just fucked at OSU.”

“Kev!” Blaine turned scarlet at this and, oh yes, Kurt definitely didn’t like this Kev guy.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kev lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Should I not be cursing in front of . . .” he jerked his head in Kurt’s direction. Blaine looked even more embarrassed and Kurt grabbed his coffee and sucked down a long gulp, trying to control the new feelings coursing through his body. He was pretty sure they were dom feelings and he didn’t want to lose it here in public when they’d agreed to keep their relationship secret.

Kev looked again from Kurt to Blaine, suspiciously, like he almost didn’t trust what his eyes were telling him. He turned to Blaine, finally, and smiled. “Well, in any case, it’s really great to see you again. I never thought I would.” He rested his hand on Blaine’s arm, just above his cuff.

“Don’t touch him,” Kurt said without thinking, in a voice he barely recognized.

Kev’s head turned sharply in Kurt’s direction as he evaluated this challenge, hand still on Blaine’s arm. Blaine pulled away, though, and gave Kurt a look that was probably supposed to be apologetic, but managed to look more guilty than anything.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Kev’s always had a problem with personal boundaries.”

Kev was still looking at Kurt and he was starting to get it, Kurt could see that, but he still didn’t quite believe what he was getting. He smiled at Kurt quite deliberately.
“Yeah, I don’t much like boundaries of any kind. Blaine had to redraw quite a few of his after we were together. But I’m pretty sure he thought it was worth it.”

Kurt was trembling with the force of emotion in his body and the effort to keep himself still. One way or another, he was pretty sure this wasn’t going to end well.

Kev turned back to Blaine and lowered his voice again. “So what do you say we ditch your little brother and get reacquainted, Blaine? It’s been four years. That’s gotta be long enough for a repeat.” He rested his hand again, very deliberately, on Blaine’s forearm, stroking just above his cuff.

Kurt was done. An intensity of possessiveness like he’d never felt before in his life was threatening to overwhelm him. He pushed himself out of his chair and glared down at the blonde. “I said, don’t touch him.”

Kev was out of his chair just as quickly, shoving himself up to stand practically nose-to-nose with Kurt. “I don’t see a black cuff on his arm,” he said with a supercilious smile, “which means the only person who can tell me not to touch him – is him.”

They both turned to stare at Blaine, who sat miserably, looking like he was trying to disappear into his chair.

Kurt was a pacifist. He’d always been a pacifist. He’d been pushed around too much to ever want to hurt anyone else like he’d been hurt. But he was very, very sure that between his dom hormones and Kev’s, someone was going to get hurt. He really wanted to see some blood on that smug face. And just the thought of that should be making him turn and walk away but his body simply wouldn’t let him. His body dug in his pocket for his keys and dropped them onto the table.

“Go wait for me in the car Blaine.”

Kev’s smile widened in anticipation. Kurt’s breathing sounded far too loud in his ears. Blaine didn’t move.

Blaine didn’t move.

Again, both doms turned sharply in Blaine’s direction. Kurt wasn’t sure which emotion on which dom’s face made Blaine look like a deer in headlights. He didn’t really care. In a surge like a bolt of lightning he was overwhelmed by the sudden realization of his own incredible stupidity. And for the longest moment all he could do was stand there, stunned, as everything came crashing down around his ears and Blaine didn't move.

So Kurt moved.

He pushed past Kev, who was smiling like he’d won some kind of victory, shoved Kev’s pilfered chair out of the way, snatched up his keys, turned, and walked out.

When Kurt was nine his dad had told him there was no Santa Claus. Burt had been as gentle as he could, worried that Kurt would feel sad or angry or even betrayed. Kurt didn’t feel any of that. He felt completely and overwhelmingly stupid. It was so obvious, once Burt said it out loud, that something magical like that couldn’t actually be real, and for Kurt, realizing the extent of his own gullibility had made him feel like an idiot. It was the humiliation that had really hurt. Knowing that he’d let the grownups pull the wool over his eyes all those years.

And that’s what he felt as he forced one foot in front of the other across the coffee shop parking lot. He was shaking with anger and humiliation. He’d been such an idiot. He’d managed to convince himself – to allow Blaine to convince him – that somehow his pitiful efforts would be enough. Blaine had said all the right things but really he’d only been playing pretend. Maybe he’d been trying to make the best of a bad situation. But the second a real dom showed his face Blaine was reduced to silent submission in moments, disobeying Kurt’s direct order, not even willing to introduce him to the asshole.

And then the thing that had been bothering him since his restless dreams last night finally pushed itself into his consciousness.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, still shaking. He just had to keep himself under control until he got home. Then he could go hide in his room and fall apart.

He didn’t realize that Blaine had followed him out of the coffee shop until the passenger door opened and Blaine climbed in. He sat and wrapped his arms around himself, as if he was trying to make himself as tiny as possible.

“You have to let me . . .” he said in a small, small voice.

“Shut up.” If Blaine tried to explain himself now Kurt knew he was going to cry.

Blaine shut up. Kurt started the car and pulled out into traffic.

Huddled miserably against the passenger door, Blaine berated himself over and over again in his head. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up and Kurt was furious and maybe they were done; he didn’t know but he was terrified and he wasn’t even sure of what.

He knew Kurt thought his hesitation had meant that he wanted to go with Kev, and that wasn’t it, not really, but he didn’t even know how he’d begin to explain that to Kurt. It was just that having Kev there and remembering the night they’d spent together – it had brought back such visceral memories. Kev had been right. Their night had been amazing and he had pushed so many of Blaine’s boundaries in such a skillful way. Blaine could still feel the wide leather belt smacking down on his ass, his thighs, his upper back. He’d pleaded and begged for mercy but he hadn’t safe worded and Kev had pushed and pushed – he’d felt those hits for days and days afterwards – until even the sound of his own begging was turning him on almost beyond endurance.

Then Kev had ordered him onto his knees and made Blaine suck him off, slowly, teasing him with detailed effusions about how amazing it all felt as Blaine’s own cock fucked empty air, aching and untouched. He’d laid Blaine out on the bed, the duvet harsh against his abused back, and stroked and teased him until his own body was ready to go again, then he’d fucked him, deliberately and slowly, forbidding him to come, until Blaine was a pile of sobbing, begging, incoherent need. And after he’d come a second time, Kev had blown Blaine as slowly as he’d made Blaine blow him, finally, finally letting him crash into an orgasm so intense that he was pretty sure it took years off his life.

Blaine had loved every second of it.

And there in the coffee shop, confronted with Kev, with the memory of what Kev had done to him and for him, all the optimism that Blaine had carefully built up about himself and Kurt had come undone in moments. He didn’t want Kev. Kev had been nothing but a pair of hands and a mouth and a dick. But he desperately, desperately wanted what Kev had done. And no matter how hard Kurt was trying or how fantastic last night had been, Kurt was years, years away from that. And Kurt’s command in the caf� had caught him mid-realization and for that one moment he just . . . couldn’t. He couldn’t take that active step to choose Kurt and all he represented. Not with Kev, and all he represented, staring at him like he wanted to eat him alive.

Kurt was driving with a death grip on the steering wheel, emotion radiating off him and filling the interior of the car. He was so angry and still that Blaine didn’t know whether to cry or try to apologize or somehow try to defend himself. So he sat in miserable silence until the Navigator pulled up in front of his apartment.

Neither of them moved; Kurt didn’t seem inclined to leave the car and there was no way Blaine was going to get out and go inside and give him the option of just driving away. Finally, Kurt killed the engine and climbed out. He walked around the front of the car and opened Blaine’s door. Blaine didn’t move.

“Get out of the car.” Kurt wouldn’t look at him, and his voice was cold enough to freeze water, steady and remote and completely controlled. But Blaine could feel all the emotion under the surface.

“Come inside with me. Please. Just let me . . .”

“Get. Out.”

Even in whatever crazy limbo state they’d found themselves, Blaine couldn’t bring himself to disobey. He climbed down from the seat; he was close enough to brush Kurt’s shoulder as he passed but Kurt stepped back away from him, avoiding any contact.

“Please . . .” Blaine tried again.

Kurt stood still as a statue, nothing moved, not a muscle. He stared off into the distance and waited.

Finally Blaine turned, defeated, and headed up the walk toward the front door. He heard the door of the Navigator slam shut, but it wasn’t until he’d pushed into the entryway and the door didn’t immediately close behind him that he realized Kurt was following him. He didn’t know whether he felt more hope or fear as he struggled to get his hand to stop trembling enough to unlock his front door.

Once inside Blaine stripped off his jacket dropped it on the little table in the entryway, and took only a few steps into the room before falling to his knees. He bowed his head, rested his hands on his thighs. He just needed to make himself as small and submissive as possible until Kurt calmed down enough to be willing to talk to him, or even look at him. He clung to the fact that Kurt was here, instead of halfway back to his own house, as his only source of hope.

He heard the door close quietly – he’d steeled himself for a slam – and Kurt remained still, facing the door, one hand on it like it was his anchor. When he finally turned he ignored Blaine, walking slowly over to the coffee table and picking up the black-wrapped present still sitting there. Then in one swift motion he threw it – hard – Blaine heard the grunt of effort – into the kitchen. It smacked against the refrigerator and bounced onto the floor.

That seemed to break the dam in Kurt. His keys slipped from his other hand onto the floor, unnoticed. He sucked in breaths in audible, shuddering gasps, doing some odd combination of pacing and rocking, still ignoring Blaine. When he finally turned to look at him, Kurt looked so fragile and young and hurt that Blaine wanted to prostrate himself on the floor and grovel for forgiveness.

“This isn’t about Kev,” he tried to begin. “You have to . . .”

“I know this isn’t about Kev! I’m not an idiot!” Kurt stopped directly in front of Blaine, and he looked up into a face that reflected so much hurt and anger that part of Blaine wanted to run away from it and hide. But another part, a bigger part, wanted so badly to fix it and to bring back the beautiful, happy Kurt who’d bounced on his doorstep earlier.

“I was stupid in the coffee shop. It was all overwhelming me, seeing him like that, and I . . . I just fucked up. But that doesn’t mean we’re not okay.”

Kurt just stared, wrapping his arms around his body like he was trying to keep himself from collapsing inward. His lips were trembling just a tiny bit and his eyes brimmed with tears. He shook his head and when he spoke it was almost to himself.

“I can’t do this.”

Blaine’s own head shook sharply in denial. “You can. We can. It was one stupid screw up and I’m so, so sorry . . .”

Kurt just stood there, looking down at Blaine with those eyes that opened him up and exposed all of his secrets. Finally, in a voice that sounded like it had to fight its way out of his throat, Kurt said, “You never say my name.”

“That’s not true,” Blaine denied. But as soon as he said it he knew that it was.

“You have said my name exactly two times. Once right after I told it to you and yesterday when you took role in class.”

And God, he knew Kurt was right but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to admit it out loud, not with the tears starting to overflow Kurt’s eyes. He scrubbed at them with the back of his hand almost automatically, without thinking, as if crying was so normal for him that he didn’t really notice it at all.

“Last night, I must have . . .”

“You didn’t, Blaine. You never do. And I know why.” He was pacing now, gathering up steam. “Because if you call me Kurt, then you have to accept that I’m it. I’m the only soulmate you’re going to get. And you can’t do that. No matter how much you talk about wanting to make us work, you just can’t bring yourself to let go of that fantasy in your head.” He stopped and stood still in front of Blaine, swiping at the tears that still escaped from his eyes. He looked at Blaine with so much sadness and pity that Blaine ached to find a way to explain or to fix this. But Kurt was right. He was exactly right and Blaine had no idea what he was supposed to do to help.

“Nothing I do is ever going to be good enough for you, is it?”

“It is. It will. I told you I can wait.” He had to find a way to make Kurt understand.

Kurt shook his head. “But I can’t. I can’t be with someone who’s just passing time waiting for me become someone else. I can’t wonder when you’re going to choose to act like a sub and when you’re not. I can’t compete with some idealized version of me that you made up in your head when I was three. I deserve more than that. I deserve better.” He ran a restless hand through his hair. “And if that means giving up my soulmate then I guess that’s what I’ll have to do.”

Better. It went through Blaine like an arrow to the heart. Because in all of his worrying and wondering if Kurt could be good enough for him, it had never occurred to him that maybe he couldn’t be good enough for Kurt. And now he saw it, clear as day, with all of his spouting about trying to be the perfect sub; he’d been absolutely nothing that Kurt had needed him to be. It had been all about him – what Kurt could do for him, how Kurt could touch him – and never about actually figuring out what Kurt wanted from him and trying to give him whatever that was. He’d told himself he was helping Kurt when really all he’d been doing was trying to lead him. Trying to coax him into acting more and more like the fantasy. Blaine felt a lump start to swell in his throat and he bowed his head again, fighting back tears himself this time.

All of the energy seemed to have left Kurt’s body and he stood, still holding himself, still crying slow tears that went completely ignored now.

“Please, just give me a chance,” Blaine begged again, looking up into tired blue eyes. “I know I screwed up, but I want to be with you. I want us to find a way, I swear to God I do.”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t believe you,” he said sadly. “I don’t think you will ever be ready to walk away from him. He’s your safety net. He keeps you from having to actually open yourself up to a real person who might screw up or disappoint you or whatever. I may not know what I’m doing here, but I know you can’t commit to both of us. And you gave your heart to him a long time ago. I never even had a chance.” Kurt had stopped crying and some of his anger seemed to be coming back. He picked up his keys from the where they’d fallen by the coffee table then looked down at Blaine. “I’m sorry, Blaine.”

He turned toward the door.

Blaine didn’t know anything at that moment beyond the fact that he couldn’t let Kurt go out that door. “No, just, please don’t go yet,” he begged. “You’re right! Everything you said is right but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. We can figure it out together – I’ll do anything you need me to, I swear.” The idea of watching Kurt walk out of his life seemed impossible. It felt as much like giving up on everything he’d ever dreamed of as the idea of committing to Kurt had been on that first day. As much as his brain tried to tell him that maybe it was for the best and maybe Kurt would be happier this way, he simply couldn’t let it happen.

But Kurt’s hand was on the doorknob.

“Kurt!” he cried, putting every ounce of pleading he could find in his heart into Kurt’s name.

Kurt stopped. He didn’t turn around but he didn’t open the door either.

“Give me a chance. God, please. You can punish me, you can ignore me, you can scream at me if you need to, but please, please don’t go out that door. I need you, Kurt. I can’t figure out how to do this without you.”

“You have to give it up,” Kurt’s voice was still cold. “I won’t come in second to your imaginary friend. You have to let him go.”

“I want to, I just don’t know how.” That was as bare and honest as Blaine had ever been in his life. He felt his own eyes start to swim with tears. “But you do. You have to because you said you were the only one who could give me what I need. Well this is what I need. So stay. Help me.”

Kurt turned. He didn’t look sad any more. His body was still trembling gently, but his face was resolute and wary and maybe angry at Blaine for throwing his own words back at him. He stared at Blaine kneeling there on the hard floor; looked him up and down, like he was trying to decide if Blaine was worth the effort. But Blaine could see that Kurt wanted him. Kurt was trembling on the brink of something and Blaine knew instinctively that he needed to push his soulmate over that edge if he had any hope at all of happiness.

“Please, Kurt. I’ll do anything you want. Just tell me, and I swear I’ll do it.”

Kurt took a deep breath and pressed his lips together in a thin line of determination. Something shifted in his body, his entire attitude changed, and he pushed away from the door. “Okay,” he said and Blaine felt an overwhelming sense of relief flood his body. Kurt dropped his keys back on the table and turned to Blaine with absolute command on his face.

“Strip.”