“That's crazy! He got sacked three times today. He's completely useless and there's no way they're playing him first string next week.”

“And you think Patterson's any better? Give me a break! He can't throw more than ten yards without an interception!”

“Well how do they expect him to get any practice under pressure if they never take a chance and put him in? At least he knows how to throw the ball! Calhoun just stands there like he thinks the entire defensive line's going to fall into a hole or something.”

“That's not fair! It's not the quarterback's fault if the rest of the offense can't . . .”

Kurt twirled another forkful of chicken fettuccine and shot Rachel a here we go again smile. She rolled her eyes back at him in a way that said boys! as eloquently as if she'd spoken it aloud.

Kurt loved double-dating with Rachel and Finn. Actually, he'd probably have loved double-dating with anyone – he was pretty sure an evening with Mike and Tina would involve less talk about football and more about dancing – but his brother and his best friend seemed to be the couple that presented themselves most often, and Kurt was fine with that. Rachel was one of the few people that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was completely, one hundred percent unfazed by anything he and Blaine might do in front of her. And Finn had gotten so used to seeing them wrapped around each other on various surfaces at home that he rarely batted an eye. But honestly, at moments like this, Kurt couldn't have cared less if Finn had batted an eye. Silly things like sports talk and homophobia were the farthest things from his mind with Blaine sitting right next to him, knee pressed against his under the table, giving Kurt a perfect view of his profile as he argued some incredibly pointless point with Finn.

Breadstix at six o'clock on a Sunday was one of the last places Kurt and Blaine would have gone alone. All those early-bird seniors and parents hurrying through dinner to get the kids home and in bed on time, all watching with their sharp Midwestern eyes for anything inappropriate or untoward; they would have zeroed in on Kurt and Blaine in a nanosecond. Even when they sat primly on opposite sides of a booth and carefully kept their hands from straying across the midline of the table into each other's territory. �The Sunday dinner crowd was definitely high on their “avoid at all costs” list. Who knew being with a straight couple would turn out to be the most amazing sort of camouflage? It gave them some kind of special immunity – like they were made unremarkable by association with something as ordinary as two teenage (definitely non-gay) lovebirds. Of course they had to sit side-by-side, so that Finn and Rachel could be together. Not a single eye turned in their direction, not even when their shoulders bumped as Blaine bounced in his seat with the intensity of his argument with Finn.

And Kurt was most definitely not above taking advantage of their near invisibility. Their decision to venture into uncharted southern territory gave them so many new places to explore and Kurt was endlessly fascinated by the reactions this or that new touch could wring out of Blaine. So he didn't even think twice about slipping his free hand under the table and settling it just above Blaine's knee.

“If they'd just give him a couple of games to get . . . to get it . . . I mean, when the . . . the . . .”

The way Blaine's words stuttered and piled up on each other as Kurt's fingers teased along the inseam of his jeans was so new and exciting that Kurt felt a little drunk on it. He loved how daring it felt to sit here in front of all these clueless diners and touch Blaine so intimately. He loved the flush that crept up from the collar of Blaine's red plaid button-down (although it completely clashed with the fabric – he'd have to remember to get Blaine to wear blue the next time he planned to make him blush), and he especially loved the bemused look Rachel gave him when Blaine had to try three times before he could get the word “quarterback” to come out of his mouth. He shrugged at her, threw Blaine a perfectly innocent quizzical look, and took his hand away to cut an overlarge chunk of chicken. Blaine abandoned conversation altogether and did his best to glare at Kurt. He failed, of course. Blaine was about as forbidding as a baby seal. Kurt just smiled at him, the kind of smile that promised more of the same as soon as they were alone.

Yep. He really loved double-dating.

Finn took advantage of the lull in the football argument to grab the dessert menu. “Share a piece of cheesecake with me?” he asked Rachel.

She sighed. “It has ‘cheese' in the name, honey. It's a cake made of cheese. By definition, not vegan. You can share it with Kurt.”

“He'll eat all of it!”

“There's nothing wrong with wanting my own piece of cheesecake,” Kurt said. “And whining is not attractive, Finn.”

“I'll share it with you. Kurt never lets me have any of his.” Blaine pulled down the corners of his mouth, still trying to look ferocious.

“Neither is pouting, Blaine. You two keep that up and nobody at this table's going to get to second base tonight.” As he spoke Kurt settled his hand back on Blaine's thigh, much higher this time. Just to make sure he knew that was a totally empty threat.

“Thank you, Blaine. What flavor would you like?” Finn said chivalrously.

“Im flexible. You choose,” Blaine said. Kurt thought his attempt at chivalry would have been much more convincing if his voice hadn't cracked.

Finn smiled at Blaine and went back to perusing the menu. Rachel also gave Blaine a grateful smile and pushed herself out of her seat.

“There, you're all set,” she said to Finn. “I'm going to the little girls' room. Order me a cappuccino when the waitress comes?”

“Soy? With nutmeg? And a cinnamon stick?” Finn had obviously taken Kurt's threat to heart and was trying to improve his chances. And it worked. Rachel beamed at him.

“Best boyfriend ever!” She leaned down and pecked him on the lips, then spun around and made for the bathrooms with a little extra bounce in her step. Kurt couldn't help smiling after her. It made him happy to see his friends happy when he was happy too. Happy was good. Life was really pretty much all-around perfect. As he watched her disappear down the little corridor toward the restrooms, he was sure he could feel Blaine squirm a little under his hand in just the way he usually did when he was trying to surreptitiously adjust an inconvenient erection.

Oh yeah. Perfect.

Then he saw her.

The woman was sitting in the booth behind Finn and Rachel, facing him, and she'd been watching too, watching Rachel bounce away; a fond-looking smile lingered on her face when her gaze met Kurt's over the now-empty space between them. She started when she noticed him noticing her, and her face went pink, like she was embarrassed to have been caught staring. But then she smiled again, a little sheepishly, and rolled her eyes in a way that very eloquently said, Ah, young love.

Kurt rolled his eyes back, with his own fond smile, and squeezed Blaine's thigh, happy to have friends who were in love, to be in love himself, to be part of their neighbor's appreciation of how sweet and wonderful it all was.

“I am so making you pay for this later.” Blaine leaned close enough to whisper it in Kurt's ear – he felt lips brush the sensitive skin there – but the lady in the other booth still held his gaze so he had a perfect view as her eyebrows came together the tiniest bit. It seemed to hit her in slow motion; he could see understanding dawn in her face but what came after that understanding he didn't know.

“Hey! I was reading that!” Finn protested when Kurt snatched the dessert menu and held it like a shield between himself and whatever reaction the woman in the other booth was having.

“Don't pretend you don't know it by heart,” he muttered.

“Don't pretend you don't know it by heart!”

A tiny noise from Blaine made Kurt realize that his fingers had gone tight on his thigh. He forced himself relax his death grip and put his hand back on top of the table where it belonged, staring with complete concentration at the list of cheesecake flavors that of course he'd memorized years ago. He didn't put it down until Rachel came back and blocked his view for good.

�

Kurt was quiet on the ride back to his house. He wasn't quite sure what was wrong, only that there was a squirmy feeling inside him that was distracting his attention from the things he usually loved about watching Blaine drive. His hands (those hands – strong yet still so beautiful) on the steering wheel, carefully placed at ten and two, the way the light from street lamps and oncoming cars slid sinuous shadows across his face as they moved. He usually loved the nights that Blaine drove. He could lose himself in anticipation of the way those fingers would soon be touching him (always brushing his skin with exquisite gentleness even as they trembled with the need for more) and the, by now familiar expression on Blaine's face when they reached for each other. Before Blaine, Kurt had never imagined in his wildest dreams anyone looking at him that way. It was always the same, that first look. A kind of desperate relief mixed with need mixed with absolute awe. It took Kurt's breath away every single time.

But tonight, even the thought of Blaine's own special brand of heart eyes couldn't banish the image of those other eyes. And it wasn't her surprise that stayed with him. It was the little eye roll. The smiling approval of Finn and Rachel's expression of love. As they pulled into the driveway and Blaine put the car into park, killed the engine, and turned that incredible look in his direction, Kurt still could see her lurking alongside Blaine's beautiful face.

“I have been waiting for this all day,” Blaine murmured, sliding his fingers (and there was that tremble) behind the back of Kurt's neck and pulling him oh-so-gently closer, until finally their mouths were touching for the first time that night.

When Blaine was leading the way, the kisses started out soft, reverent, Blaine worshipping Kurt's mouth and savoring every little point of contact. Kurt usually loved feeling him try so hard to hold back the need to press and pull and deepen. His fingers were always the first to give in. They would tighten against Kurt's skin, feeling their way through the barriers of clothing, then his body would press forward more and more avidly across the console between them, but his lips always stayed gentle, trembling tender, until the last possible moment.

Tonight, as they breathed into each other's mouths and Kurt tried so hard to be firm with the woman who just kept staring at him, it seemed like the tipping point came for Blaine even faster than usual. Kurt could feel him fall over that edge, the hunger in his body moving quickly to his lips, which opened in an invitation that Kurt automatically accepted. He'd had no idea, before Blaine, that you could love someone's tongue, that the taste and feel of it could grip you around the heart as much as a whispered I love you, but with Blaine he'd learned about so many things he'd never thought were possible.

Blaine's tongue was insistent, even desperate, and he trailed it along Kurt's bottom lip, down to dip into the cleft in his chin, then kissed his way along Kurt's jaw, the curve of his neck, nuzzling in the hollow of his ear. “You were so evil in the restaurant. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to kiss you right there? God, it was hot.” Blaine's breath was warm and shuddery and tickled Kurt's ear in a way that was usually guaranteed to have the south-of-the equator population standing up in appreciation. On a normal night, that is, when his words weren't conjuring back the face of a certain smiling woman.

Blaine, being Blaine, sensed it immediately and pulled back to examine Kurt's face in the dim light. “Hey. What's wrong?”

Kurt shook his head, as much to clear it as to reassure Blaine. “Nothing. I'm fine. Don't stop . . .” He slid his arms around Blaine's neck and pulled him back. Blaine's kisses were all he needed. They'd been so close to banishing the woman completely. Just a few more .�. .

Blaine pulled away again. “Okay, something's up. Don't tell me you're fine. What's going on?”

Kurt didn't want to talk. He wanted to make out with his boyfriend until his dad inevitably flashed the porch lights, then run up to his room and wait for Blaine to get home and call him so they could finish what they'd started via phone. But the damned woman from Breadstix was still there, in his head, trying to tell him something he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Plus Blaine was still staring, waiting for an answer, and Kurt finally surrendered and plopped back in his seat.

“What are we doing?”

Blaine looked puzzled, but he answered Kurt's question anyhow, with only a tiny hint of exasperation at the obvious stupidity of it. “Making out? At least that's what I –”

“In your car, Blaine. In my driveway.”

Blaine turned to stare out the window and it was almost comical – as if he was only just discovering where they were. “Yeah –”

“We always make out in the car. If we're not in our rooms, we're in the car.”

“Well, we're teenagers. Aren't we like legally obligated to make out in cars?”

Kurt huffed a little, frustrated breath. He knew it was unfair to expect Blaine to be taking him seriously. He thought about just letting it go, pulling Blaine close again and doing things to his body that were guaranteed to make them both forget the odd mood Kurt was in. But he knew the damage was done. And Blaine was giving him that open, I'm listening look that always managed to make Kurt feel even worse if he tried to ignore it. So he forged ahead, hating himself a little for doing so.

“Did you see what Rachel did right before she went to the bathroom?” he asked. “In the restaurant?”

Blaine wasn't expecting that; his eyebrows scrunched together and he looked at Kurt like he might be going a little crazy. But because he was Blaine, who always tried to put his own issues aside if Kurt needed him, he didn't demand to know what the hell Rachel going to the bathroom had to do with them making out in his car. He swallowed his confusion and tried to follow Kurt's train of thought. “Um, she asked Finn to get her a coffee?”

Kurt shook his head. “After that.”

Blaine thought, staring at the window behind Kurt like he was trying to project images from their dinner there. But finally he gave up and shrugged.

“She kissed him,” Kurt said. “Right there. Just, in front of everyone, bent over and kissed him.”

Blaine understood immediately, and his face softened into a look that Kurt hated. The sympathetic look. The one that Kurt had a hard time distinguishing from pity. “Kurt –”

“And then she smiled at me.”

“What – Rachel?”

“No. There was this lady, sitting behind her, and she smiled at me.”

It was Blaine's turn to shake his head. “I don't –”

“She smiled at me. Like, oh, your friends are so disgustingly cute, that kind of smile. And I was just sitting there, smiling back at her, with my hand about three centimeters from your dick.”

“That I remember,” Blaine said.

“And I thought, what if she knew? What if she knew my hand was on your leg? Or what if you'd kissed me like Rachel did with Finn? Would she still have been smiling? Would she have thought we were cute?”

Blaine reached for Kurt's hand and gently spread out the fingers he hadn't realized he'd clenched into a fist. “You know you can't compare –”

“But what if she would have?” Kurt slid his fingers in between Blaine's and clutched at his hand. “That's what I keep thinking. What if she would have been perfectly okay? We'll never know. What if she's not sure? If she's on the fence and seeing us, just seeing something simple like that, what if it was the thing that made her realize –”

“Kurt. You know you can't control what people think.”

“But that's my point! We can't control what people think. So why are we hiding?”

“Hiding?” The shock in Blaine's eyes told Kurt he was only now starting to understand that this might be something serious. “We're not hiding, Kurt. We're completely out.”

“We're hiding,” Kurt insisted. And as much as he hated himself for crapping on their already limited time alone together, the truth of what he was saying was so clear that he knew he couldn't keep it inside. �“We don't touch each other. Not where people can see. We kiss in the car, in the driveway. I sat there in Breadstix, and I was so grateful that we were with Finn and Rachel because we could actually sit next to each other. Just sit in a booth, side by side. It was pathetic.”

“We're not hiding,” Blaine repeated. “We're being safe. There's a difference.”

“Really? Because I'm not seeing it at the moment.”

Blaine dropped Kurt's hand and gripped the steering wheel again, hands still perfectly anchored at ten and two. He took a long deep breath, sighed it out, and Kurt hated himself even more for dropping this bomb that must have seemed completely out of the blue to Blaine.

“You're right, okay,” Blaine said, staring at the wheel. “We don't know how people will react. Maybe nine out of ten people would smile and clap and throw us a parade.” He turned back to Kurt, eyes so full of hurt and confusion and fear that Kurt felt hot tears start in his own. “But what about that one? That one who doesn't? Do you really want to risk that? Because the bad, is really freaking bad, Kurt. And it could be way more than one. Most of Lima has never had to deal with people like us.”

And as much as Kurt hated hurting Blaine, he hated that phrase more. “People like us?”

“Okay, you know I didn't mean –”

“What about school?” Kurt interrupted.

Blaine was again taken aback by Kurt's abrupt change of subject. “What?”

“School, Blaine. Everyone at McKinley knows. They know we're together. We danced at prom in front of everyone. You just said it – we're out. But we don't hold hands like other couples. We never touch at all at school. Why not? Why not when everyone already knows?”

“No. Things are good at school right now,” Blaine said, and Kurt could see him struggling to keep up and find the words to negate what Kurt was saying. “Everyone's okay with us. We agreed on this! We don't want to upset that. It doesn't make sense to . . .” he trailed off, apparently at a loss for words, and looked back down at his hands still gripping the steering wheel.

“To flaunt ourselves?”

Blaine recoiled from the words as if he'd been hit. “That isn't what I was going to say.”

“That isn't what you wanted to say. But it's what you were going to say because it's the only way to say it. We don't hold hands at school because nobody's beating us up at the moment, so why risk reminding them they have a reason to?”

Blaine's eyes darted around the interior of the car like they were looking for a safe place to land that wasn't Kurt or his own hands. But he eventually gave up and looked up at Kurt with a sigh. “Is that so wrong? To want to just stay safe?”

“I didn't think so before. But it doesn't feel right to me now.”

“Because of one woman in Breadstix who smiled at you?” Blaine huffed a little, miserable laugh.

“Because of one woman who made me think.” Kurt touched Blaine's arm with tentative fingers. The muscles under his shirt were hard and tight. “Why can't we have those things too? What if people aren't as against us as we think they are? What if things are changing? We'll never know if we don't try. Maybe the kids at school wouldn't care at all.”

“I think that's pretty much exactly what you said last year before prom.”

That hurt, and it must have shown on Kurt's face because Blaine grabbed his hand again in both his own, and pressed it to his chest. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Kurt. Maybe you're right. Maybe people would be okay with it. Maybe we should be braver. But what if you're wrong? All it takes is one idiot to put somebody in the hospital, or worse.”

Kurt could see Blaine's fear and he understood it. He really did. He shared it on so many levels. But hiding behind that menu made him realize that he was tired of letting fear rule his actions. He pulled their joined hands away from where Blaine clutched them to his chest and held them up between their bodies. “Because of this,” he said quietly. “Because this,” he squeezed harder around Blaine's fingers, “is so wrong and so . . . so perverted –”

“No. Kurt!”

“So perverted that people have a right to be protected from it. From us holding hands.”

“Those are their words.”

“But we make them right.” Kurt knew that this was the crux of the problem, what had been teasing at the back of his brain since they left Breadstix. “When we hide; when we don't do what we want to do,” Blaine's head shook in violent negation but Kurt pressed on, “what any other couple can do. When you don't kiss me when I bring you flowers –”

“You were the one who pulled away that day!”

“Either way, Blaine. I'm not saying it's just you. But when we do that we make them right. We're agreeing with them. We're giving them what they want.”

“No. You're twisting things the wrong way around. We have a right to be safe.”

Kurt nodded. “We do. You're right, we do. But when we don't do things we want to do in order to be safe, we still make them right. We make it our problem, not theirs.” He took a deep breath and even though it made him want to cry, he said it anyhow. “And I don't think I'm okay with that anymore.”

Blaine's eyes went wide. “What does that mean?”

“I'm not sure. I just . . . Kurt Hummel doesn't hide. I never did. No matter how miserable they tried to make me. But now, when I'm happier than I've ever been in my life,” he squeezed Blaine's hand, trying to give him what reassurance he could, “I'm hiding. I can't do that. I deserve more. We deserve more.”

“Kurt. Please, Kurt it's one year,” Blaine said, and his eyes, reflecting the yellow light spilling from the bulb over the garage door, pleaded almost as eloquently as his voice. He leaned in closer, one hand relinquishing Kurt's to touch his face instead, just as gently as he had when they'd pulled up, except now Kurt knew the trembling he could feel wasn't from arousal. “Not even a whole year. You'll graduate and when I come visit you in New York I swear, I swear to you I'll kiss you wherever you want. The middle of Times Square. They can put us up on the freaking Jumbotron and I'll love it. But not here.”

“New York doesn't need us on the Jumbotron. We don't make a difference there. But we can here, Blaine.”

Breath left Blaine's body in a long, deep sigh and his head dropped. Sensing surrender, Kurt pressed on. “When we come back here in ten years for my reunion, what will gay kids at McKinley say to us? Will they thank us for making a difference? Or will they wonder what the hell good we were?”

“We've already made a difference. We danced at prom in front of everyone.”

“We made one big gesture. And then we went right back to acting the way everybody thinks we should act. And I can't do that anymore. I'm tired of always stopping myself. I want more. I want to feel like any other couple.”

Blaine pulled away from Kurt completely and stared out the windshield at the garage door. “You want go back to dumpsters and slushies and beatings?”

“Maybe,” Kurt said, and he knew he was being stubborn but that didn't make it a lie. “Maybe it's worth it.”

Blaine shook his head, still staring out at the night. “You don't know what it's like.”

Kurt's mouth dropped open; he had to force it closed before he could speak. “I don't know what it's like?! How can you even say that to me? After Karofsky?”

“You don't. You don't know Kurt. I know you've been hurt and shoved around and humiliated. But that's not nearly the worst thing that can happen.”

“It's not a competition, you know! Who's been hurt more? Just because I never ended up in the hospital –”

“This isn't about me!” Blaine turned to him, turned on him, the force of his anger radiating so strongly that Kurt was reminded of his baby seal attempts in the restaurant and had to suppress a hysterical and completely inappropriate desire to giggle. “You don't know what it's like to have to watch someone you care about get hurt, okay? To be terrified and completely helpless while he cries and begs. God, Kurt. And he was just my friend. I didn't love him.”

“Blaine –” Kurt reached for Blaine's hand but he pulled it away, curling further in on himself against the driver's side door.

“I still have nightmares about it,” he said, and his voice was chillingly quiet in the echo of his outburst. “Except in my dreams, it's you. For some reason you never scream, like he did. Or beg. You're so quiet but I can hear it when they hit you, the thud, the way the air rushes out of your lungs. I'm the one who screams, in my dreams. I scream for you and try to get to you but they're holding me, I can't move, all I can do is watch everything they do to you . . .”

“Blaine.” Kurt crowded across the console into Blaine's space, pulling at his shoulders, trying to get him to move closer. Blaine allowed the touch but didn't move at all, he just looked at Kurt with those desperate eyes that made Kurt feel like dirt for not caving in and saying anything that might wipe that look off Blaine's face. But that wasn't who Kurt Hummel was either.

“I can't do it, Kurt. If anything happened to you because of me, I couldn't live with myself.”

“But it wouldn't be because of you. You know that. You're not responsible for what assholes decide to do.”

“We both know it's not that simple. Maybe it wouldn't be my fault exactly, but if we can avoid it? If I could avoid it but I chose not to?” Blaine was still shaking his head but his body loosened enough that Kurt was able to pull him closer and settle what he hoped was a reassuring hand on his chest.

“You're right,” he said. “I know you are, but I'm right too. I don't want to do that anymore. I'm tired of choosing safety over happiness. It's wrong. It feels wrong to me.”

“An hour ago you were fine,” Blaine said. “You said it yourself – you were happy just sitting next to me. I don't get it.”

“I wasn't fine. Not really. If I was I wouldn't have had such a huge reaction to that woman. She brought it all into focus for me. She made me realize how much we're compromising.”

“It's not compromising to me,” Blaine insisted. “It's priorities. Because nothing is more important to me than you. In one piece.”

“I get that. But for me it is. It's accepting less. Because we're gay. That's something I told myself I'd never, ever do. You're not wrong to want to be safe, Blaine. But I'm not wrong either.”

For a minute neither of them spoke, the tension and awareness of the impasse they'd reached seemed to suck all the air out of the car. Kurt had an overwhelming urge to throw the door open and run out into the yard, run away from Blaine and his beautiful, confused, frightened eyes. But Kurt Hummel didn't run. He certainly didn't run from the one person he loved more than anything else in this world.

Blaine finally broke the silence, with a quiet and unexpectedly calm, “So what do we do now?”

Yes, Kurt thought. That was all he needed – an opening. Blaine willing to work with him. “Well, I was thinking maybe just start slow. At school. Holding hands is good. Little things. Wouldn't want to risk any mass pandemonium on the first day.”

He expected a laugh, the little, self-deprecating one that always seemed to mark Blaine's moments of capitulation. But Blaine didn't laugh. Instead, his hand slammed down once, hard, on the steering wheel and he stared a Kurt with a mixture of anger and incredulity. “Did you not hear anything I just said?”

“I heard you. But I thought when you asked –”

“I'm not risking it, Kurt.” Blaine pronounced each word precisely, like he was talking to a toddler. “I will not do anything that could get you hurt. Period.”

Kurt's chest tightened again, panic swelling. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Blaine always came around to his side of arguments eventually. On things that were far, far less important to him than this was.

“That's not how this works,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm, reasonable. “You don't just get to decide these things, unilaterally. This affects both of us.”

“I get to decide for me. And I'm not okay with being more public.”

“Well I'm not okay with hiding any more. I refuse to do it.”

Kurt knew he was being dramatic, as usual, but damn it, he was right. Which didn't mean that Blaine was wrong, necessarily, and what were they supposed to do about that? He hated hurting Blaine, hurting them, but Hummels didn't hide. He'd tried it once, for his dad, and it had been a complete disaster. Was it so wrong to want the things he wanted? If he was willing to take the risk, how could Blaine deny him?

He didn't say any of this to Blaine. He didn't have to. He could see in Blaine's eyes that he already understood all of it and it didn't change anything. For possibly the first time in his life, he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Again, Blaine spoke first. “So what do we do now?” he repeated, even quieter than before.

Kurt shook his head. “I think I'd better go inside,” he said, and the we're not making out finality of it ran cold through his belly. “We should probably take some time to think about this.”

Blaine's mouth tightened around words that he wouldn't or couldn't speak. But he opened the door and climbed out, waiting for Kurt at the edge of the driveway. He let Kurt lead the way along the walk and up the front steps, but at least he was there, silent, but there, all the way to the front door.

Kurt turned to him then, stepping deliberately close, challenging Blaine to just do it. It wasn't a big deal. What was a kiss on his front steps? It was dark, no one was even around. A perfect baby step.

“Kurt . . .”

There was both pleading and denial in Blaine's tone, but Kurt wasn't in the mood to let him off the hook. “I love you,” he said. “And I don't care who knows it.”

But Blaine very deliberately backed down one step and said with a firmness that Kurt wasn't used to hearing from him, “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Kurt watched him turn and make his way down the rest of the steps, along the walk back to his car. Blaine didn't once look back.