Up the winding concrete path, Blaine walks Kurt to his front door. The heat of the day has lingered, and the buzzing song of cicadas pulses in the nighttime stillness. Kurt hesitates in the pale cone of light cast upon the stoop. He looks at Blaine, who stands with his hands in his pockets, his expression expectant but uncertain. Insects spiral and zoom about them, like dozens of miniature dogfights. Across the street, the windows of several homes are still illuminated. This isn't the place for an intimate moment, no matter how traditional an ending to a date a kiss on the doorstep may be. Kurt takes Blaine's hand and tugs. "Come inside so you can kiss me good night?" he asks.

"Yes," Blaine says and follows Kurt through the door.

It's dark in the house but for the glow of the lamp on the hall table; silent but for the rustle of their movement and the tick of the clock on the wall. Kurt shuts the door quietly and turns toward Blaine just as Blaine reaches for him. Warm and thrilling, Blaine's hand is upon his skin. Blaine's thumb rests against Kurt's jaw, his fingers curl around the back of his neck, and Kurt's lungs halt. It feels like his heart stops, too. Just like the very first time. Just like every first kiss since.

Blaine's so close, his breath is hot upon Kurt's lips, humid and coffee scented. Blaine holds still, hovering it seems, elongating the moment. He speaks softly, "You had fun tonight?"

"I did," Kurt whispers.

"Me too," Blaine says, and he leans in. Kurt closes his eyes.

That first contact of their lips, dry and soft, with barely any pressure—just breath and surface—it only lasts a microsecond, maybe less, but it remains the most world shifting sensation Kurt knows: that instant they connect right before it becomes an actual kiss.

Then comes the rush. The bottom drops out of his stomach, and, with a soft whimper, Kurt feels his whole body bend into Blaine's. He relaxes and parts his lips against the press of Blaine's mouth. Velvet breath, heat—oh, god, the heat—the delirious slip of Blaine's tongue, the delicious hum Blaine makes—as if Kurt himself is delicious—as his hand slides up the back of Kurt's neck and into his hair. Blaine reaches deeper into the kiss, and Kurt yields and opens. His scalp tingles beneath the massaging pressure of Blaine's fingertips, his knees sag, and his heart resumes with a terrific thud.

Another shift, and Kurt's reoriented himself, pushing his mouth back against Blaine's, his hands upon Blaine now too, sliding under his jacket and splaying across his ribs, about to gather up the fine cotton and pull—

Then Kurt hears footsteps upstairs, approaching the stairwell, and then the light over the stairs comes on. "That you back, Kurt?" his Dad calls out. Fortunately, he doesn't come down.

Kurt releases Blaine and breaks the kiss, steps back with a wry smile. Blaine returns the smile with a shrug. Kurt finds enough breath to reply, "Yes, Dad."

"Is Blaine there?"

"Yes, sir," Blaine says. "I'm here."

"We were just saying good night," Kurt says, a little petulant for the ill-timed interruption. Which he's certain was entirely on purpose.

"Thanks for getting him home on time," his Dad says.

Kurt rolls his eyes.

"You're welcome," Blaine says, his smile turning amused as he watches Kurt.

'What?' Kurt mouths at Blaine.

Blaine shakes his head and just grins.

"Do you want more coffee? Or tea?" Kurt asks Blaine, loud enough for his Dad to hear too. "Before you drive back?"

"Uh," Blaine glances at his watch, sighs, and looks back at Kurt with regret. "No, I can't. If I'm going to get myself home before curfew, I need to get going."

"Drive safe, Blaine. Good night," his Dad says, and then Kurt hears his footsteps retreating back down the hall.

Kurt tilts his head and pouts. He takes Blaine's hand in a loose grip. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Blaine says more softly, reaches up to touch Kurt's face with his free hand. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"I don't know... Will you?" Kurt asks with an arched eyebrow and (what he hopes is) a flirtatious smile.

"Yes," Blaine says. "I'll come around lunchtime." He leans in to place a kiss upon Kurt's cheekbone, near his ear, and then he skims his lips back farther and whispers ticklishly, "You are so adorable."

Kurt shivers and bites down on a titter. "And you're very charming," he murmurs against Blaine's skin.

Blaine pulls back, his expression composed despite the color on his cheeks. He speaks at a more normal volume. "Good night, Kurt. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"You too. Good night, honey. Text me when you get home?"

"I will."

Kurt follows Blaine out onto the porch. Watches as he gets in his car, waves as he pulls out of the driveway, and stands there until Blaine's taillights disappear around the corner. Blaine leaves him aching in the most peculiar and pleasant way, like this restless, frustrated desire is its own worthy goal.

As he lies in bed waiting for sleep, Kurt holds tightly to his spare pillow. The evening replays in his mind.

#

He wakes far too early for a Saturday, given how much he didn't sleep last night. The buzz of Blaine's company and touch still seethes beneath his skin. His head feels off, vacant and stuffy at the same time. He grabs his dressing gown and goes downstairs to make coffee. No one else is up. Barefoot, he takes his coffee outside, sits on the wicker chaise longue and watches the last peachy blush of sunrise morph into blue.

The air is fresh and dewy, the brisk coolness of dawn warming quickly. Kurt's feet are cold, so he folds them beneath himself and listens to the mockingbird singing from the top of the aspen tree near the fence. In the morning sun, its new leaves are bright, the white of its trunk stark. It doesn't seem that long ago he was sitting out here on one of the last warm autumn afternoons, relaxing after a day of unloading boxes from the U-Haul. The aspen tree's leaves had fluttered orange and gold in the breeze. He'd only known Blaine a few weeks, but he was already becoming essential to Kurt. He'd snapped a photo of the tree with his phone, texted it to Blaine: with the message, "Autumn colors at the new house".

#

That first day after school ends always feels strangely empty. There's no exam to be studying for. Kurt zones out in the shower. He takes his time dressing, inspired by the morning: sky blue short-sleeved button up, McQueen scarf with the sherbert orange skulls, silver gray walking shorts, and his new Ana Locking deconstructed shoe sandals in baby blue. He changes cologne, likes to mark the beginning of his summer break with something new: an olfactory signature for the months of long days and daydreams. Kurt unboxes the blue glass bottle and spritzes the fresh woodsy melon scent of Eternity: Summer at his throat. He'll head to the garage for the morning, take some photos of the camper, make some sketches. See if he's inspired.

#

Saturdays the garage doesn't open until ten AM, so Kurt's got some solitude in which to work. He opens up the camper to survey the damage. It's a mess. He's pretty sure there's nothing original about the stained and dusty mud brown carpet covering the floor and extending up the walls, glued to nearly every vacant surface. The convertible bench seat has been taken out to accommodate lengths of pipe, but the guy still had it, was happy to give it to Finn when he inquired about it. It's lying on its back in the rear of the space. The old plaid fabric is faded and torn, with dirty foam pushing out of the rents. The kitchen fixtures are long gone, replaced with stacked plastic bins for storage. Kurt peels back a bit of loose headliner to see if any of the original paint remains. He finds brilliant orange.

A quick Google search on his phone informs him the color is Fiesta Orange, and he notes the codes Finn and Puck will need to match it. Then Kurt opens all the bay doors to let in sunlight and starts moving shop lights so he can get some good photos of the interior. He'll need to take some measurements too.

The list of requirements Finn's given him is brief. It all fit in a single text: two beds, a fridge, microwave, and a good TV. No design pointers other than 'something you think's cool'. He still feels uncomfortable trying to guess (the anxious flutter in his belly when he thinks about it is starting to feel a lot like nausea), but Finn is stubbornly unhelpful when it comes to opinions of taste.

Once Kurt's got enough photos, he finds a clean drop cloth, settles himself with his sketchbook and pencil on the floor of the camper, and starts drafting ideas for the interior. "Something cool," he mutters to himself.

The garage opens around him. It's only his Dad and another guy working today. There's just one car in, so it promises to remain a quiet morning. Kurt gets lost in the drag of the soft pencil lead over the rough paper as he gives shape to thought.

#

Kurt gets the text from Blaine just before noon. "There's no one at your house. Where are you?"

He texts back, "Good morning to you too." Gets a ":P" face in response. "I'm at the garage," he sends. "Where do you want to meet?"

"I'll come to you," Blaine sends. "I have coffee."

"Fantastic," Kurt texts. "See you soon."

#

Blaine soon turns up at the open door of the camper with a cheerful smile, two coffees, and a paper bag. He passes Kurt the bag and a coffee. Kurt clambers out of the camper, and opens the bag with curiosity. Within is an apricot cream cheese danish.

"Blaine," Kurt says. The buttery yeast scent of the pastry wafts up. It's a wonderful respite from the smell of old carpet and glue. "How did you know these were my favorite?"

"The way you ogle them longingly right before you order a fat free muffin kind of gave you away. And since it's a gift, you have to eat it, right?"

Kurt laughs, says, "You're the best boyfriend, and your logic is infallible. Come on, let's go sit outside."

They settle on a weathered park bench in a sunny sheltered corner behind the shop. There's a small bit of exposed earth between the asphalt and the rusty corrugated iron fence. Amid the scrubby grass and dandelions bob a few bright marigold flowers, self-sown from several summers back when Kurt tried to turn this spot into an outdoor break area. No one ever really used it, so he let it go.

They have enough privacy here, Kurt sets his coffee on the ground and reaches over to take Blaine's hand. He takes a bite of the danish. It's luxurious, aromatic, melts in his mouth: a perfectly balanced melange of sweet, savory, tart. He closes his eyes as he chews.

"Are you working today?" Blaine asks.

"No," Kurt says after he's swallowed. "Not for money, anyway. I wanted to take a closer look at the camper."

"Do you think you'll do it?"

Kurt shrugs. "I don't know. There's a lot of work, and I'm..." Kurt scuffs the sole of his shoe in an arc across the gritty asphalt. "Honestly? I'm really nervous doing the job for Finn."

Blaine is thoughtful for a moment, watches the movement of Kurt's foot. He looks up and asks, "Why's that?"

It's not a story Kurt wants to tell today, his past conflicts with Finn. Especially not when he has this amazing new relationship with him as his stepbrother. Kurt takes another mouthful of pastry, thinks as he chews. But it's a big factor in his decision making, the present ease of his new relationship with Finn. He tries an abbreviated version of their particular history. "Friendship with Finn hasn't always been easy, and we've rarely agreed on much. I'm not sure I can do a job he'll like, and if I screw it up, then..." Kurt shrugs again. "Whenever I ask him what sort of design he wants, he just says, 'something cool.' Whatever that means."

Blaine nods. "But you guys are pretty close now, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he's trusting you with this?"

"Trusting?" It hadn't occurred to Kurt that it was about trust. He thought it was just Finn being aesthetically apathetic. "You think so?"

This time Blaine's the one to shrug. "Well, I don't know him that well, but if he's asked you to do this, then, yeah, I'd say he trusts you."

"Or he just wants to get it done for free."

"Do you really think he's using you?"

Kurt shakes his head. "No, I doubt that. At least, not on purpose."

"Kurt, it's up to you. You don't have to say yes."

"Believe me, I know how to say 'no'." But it's true that he doesn't really want to tell Finn 'no' this early in their brotherhood. It was nice to be asked. "What do you think?" Kurt asks Blaine. "You've seen the camper now."

"I think it could be potentially pretty neat—"

"Potentially..."

"—and I know you enjoy challenges. And makeovers." Blaine smiles.

Kurt laughs. "That's true."

"How are you leaning? Think you might?"

"Don't know yet. I'm just playing with ideas... seeing if anything excites me," Kurt says, and, with that, he feels like he's done processing this particular issue for now. He turns his attention fully to Blaine. Thinks about his empty house and how long it's been since they've enjoyed privacy: how amazing Blaine's thighs look in the jeans he's wearing and how good Blaine's leg had felt under his hand last night. Blaine's still got another ten days of school. His final exams are this week, which means Kurt may be seeing less of him in the afternoons. "Do you have a lot of studying to do for next week?"

"Yes," Blaine says. "I actually brought my books with me. I thought maybe we could grab some lunch and hang out while I study? If you're done here and that wouldn't be too boring?"

"Sure... Um. We can pick something up and head back to my house. I've got enough photos and notes and sketches to start brainstorming properly. But I need to get back to my computer to go online and do some research."

So they go back to Kurt's house.

#

After lunch, they sit together at the dining room table, having come to a mutual decision that any kissing needs to wait until Blaine's done at least an hour's worth of good Biology study. So Blaine studies while Kurt pokes about online and does some more detailed drawings with his colored pencils. Eventually, Kurt has the feeling he's being watched. He looks up.

"May I see?" Blaine asks.

"Oh," Kurt glances down at the sketch he's been working on. It's got a rock and roll tour bus sort of theme; he's not sure if he likes it or not. He's also not used to anyone actually wanting to see his work. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, so long as you don't mind my looking."

"It's just, I don't know if it's any good, or if I even like it. Sometimes I have to get all the bad ideas out first."

"Work in progress. I understand," Blaine says.

"But you can... look, if you want," Kurt bites his lip and hesitates a moment longer before sliding his sketchbook across the table. He tries not to feel nervous, but does anyway. Pushes his hands between his pressed together thighs to keep himself from fidgeting.

Blaine gives him an encouraging smile and turns the pad around. He looks at it for a long time, and Kurt realizes he's holding his breath. "It's too much black, isn't it?" Kurt says when he can no longer bear Blaine's silence. "Puck would probably like it, but Finn wouldn't."

Blaine nods. "Maybe? I like how you've got the magazine covers and old albums framed though. That's a cool idea."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And the mirrors, to reflect the light and make it feel bigger."

"It's not tacky?"

Blaine purses his lips. "Only if you outline them in neon."

"That wasn't my plan," Kurt says, grins his relief.

"May I look at the others?"

"Oh, those are just the messy ones from this morning—" Kurt stops himself, remembers to breathe again. There's nothing personal about the drawings, not really. "But, go ahead."

Blaine turns the page. And another. He takes his time with each, offers compliments on what he likes. Laughs affectionately at the obviously ridiculous ones. "Is this a cowboy theme?" he asks, amusement bright in his eyes.

"Yeah, I really had to get that one out of my system," Kurt says, grinning.

Then, before Kurt's realized Blaine's about to turn past his camper sketches, Blaine's already turned to a page where Kurt had sketched one of his ideas for Prom outfits. "Oh," Blaine says.

"Oh," Kurt echoes, and then he's leaning across the table, reaching for the pad. "Those aren't—"

"Kurt? Is this meant to be me?"

Kurt doesn't draw faces on his models, but it's clear from the general shape and hair styles that the one in the kilt is Kurt, and the one beside is Blaine.

"Sort of," Kurt says.

"In a Blackwatch Nehru collar dinner jacket?"

"Yeah, I, um, did these for Prom. It was to match my kilt. I know, it's really tacky—too matchy matchy, and... " Kurt trails off. "Creative black tie's not your taste really, is it?"

"This is pretty bold," Blaine says, wrinkles his nose in a weird blend of reluctance and embarrassment, maybe. Kurt can't tell. "But no, not really? I like more classic stuff."

"Like..." Kurt thinks back to the outfits he's seen Blaine it. "A little more retro?"

"Yeah, I could probably pull off something like velvet."

"Oh, like a royal blue or burgundy or even a print—"

Blaine laughs. "More like... black."

"So more classic, less modern?"

"Hmm. Generally, I'm more mod than modern."

"Mid-century, sure," Kurt says. "Yeah, that suits you. Vintage modern gentleman."

Blaine laughs. "I guess so?"

They fall into silence then, and as their gazes catch and hold, Kurt sees the warmth growing in Blaine's, feels a reciprocal heat rising beneath his own skin. "Study break?" he suggests. "We could maybe... go up to my room?"

"Yes," Blaine says.