Blaine stops by the grocery store on the way home and uses his dad’s credit card to buy a cart full of truly awful sugary and salty food. There’s enough for a full-blown party, and he entertains the idea of having New Directions over, too. Maybe then they could get to know Kurt and see him the way Blaine does. Well, mostly how he does.

He gets a text from Mercedes while he’s stocking the fridge, inviting him over for a girl’s night, and he replies to remind her that even though he’s gay that doesn’t mean he is a girl. She says as long as he isn’t staring lewdly at the girls in their pajamas, it counts.

He gives in and goes over. The night is spent with him listening to them gossip and being bullied into singing cheesy romantic duets with them that somehow culminate with Tina spiking his hair into a mohawk.

At some point it started snowing, and by the time he leaves, because Mercedes’ dad wasn’t down with him staying the night no matter how many times she told him he was gay and not a perv, the roads are already slick. Nothing on his way home appears to have been salted or plowed, so he drives extra slow and careful, even if at such a late hour there isn’t much traffic.

Returning to an empty house doesn’t make him feel any more or less lonely than when his parents are home. �Nothing out of the ordinary happens until Blaine is reading in bed, eyes drooping, about two minutes from giving up and going to sleep, when the lights go out.�His eyes open with a jolt, though the room is pitch black and silent and there’s nothing to see. His heart races and he feels like his lungs are constricting, like the whole room is closing in on him because there is not one light, and who turned them out? And oh god, what if someone cut the power because they know he’s alone and they’re going to rob him and what if they’re on their way up the stairs right now, and—

Cutting his thoughts off mid-stream, Blaine fumbles for his phone on his bedside table, knocking something, he doesn’t know or care what, to the floor in his haste. He turns the phone on and there’s sudden light, casting shadows all around him. It isn’t enough to light the whole room, but it’s enough so he can make his way over to his window and open the curtains. It’s a little better, then, with the moon giving him light to see by.

His heart is still racing, convinced something horrible is going to happen. He looks out, trying to determine if his entire block is without power, or if it's just his house. All he can see is the house behind his, and all the windows are dark. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but he can’t bring himself to leave his bedroom to look out the front window. He tries to think of the friends he knows who live near him. He thinks Tina is closest, but she’s at Mercedes’.

Mercedes lives about a mile away, and it could just be his neighborhood out of power, but he tries her anyway. She picks up on the second ring. “Hey, Blaine, what up?”

“Mercedes,” he says, relieved even in some small way to hear her voice, “did your power go out?”

“Mmhm, just a minute ago. Yours, too?”

A flood of relief washes over him.�Oh thank god. “Yeah, I guess—”�He realizes, staring out the window, that it’s still snowing. Heavier than when he was out earlier. “—I guess it’s the storm.”

“Ugh, it’s a good thing you left when you did. You’d be stuck here, or you would’ve had a hell of a time driving in this with the street lights out.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, and tries desperately to think of a way to keep her on the line. He can hear the girls in the background laughing over something, and god, why hadn’t he just stayed, Mercedes’ dad be damned?

“Well, boo, take care and keep warm.”

Blaine frowns and nods, realizing belatedly she can’t see him. “Oh, yeah, you too, Mercedes.”

They hang up and the fear is back, clawing up Blaine’s spine and leaving him chilled. He’s always been particularly ashamed of being afraid of the dark. It seems like one step above still peeing the bed. He would feel better if his parents were here, because every little noise makes him want to heave as he imagines everything from burglars to fictional monsters waiting in the shadows. He contemplates bringing Lord and Lady Gaga up to his room with him, but when he gathers enough courage to open his bedroom door, the sight of all that endless darkness makes him close it just as fast and hurry back into bed.

He feels all of five years old again, and mentally berates himself for being so foolish. Still, he pulls his comforter over his head and curls up under his blankets, just like a child. He turns his phone on for some light, and near about pulls up his contact list to talk to someone, anyone, but he doesn’t want the phone to die and it’s already sixty percent there.

Instead, he locks his eyes closed and tries to sleep. It’s dark when you sleep, so what’s the big deal, right?� He lays there, heart thudding, for what feels like hours, when he hears knocking at his window.

Knocking. At his�window.

Blaine tries to think of a logical explanation before freaking out, but there isn’t one. His window is on the second floor. There are no trees anywhere close to it, no gutters that he knows of. Which means it’s a ghost or a vampire. A vampire seems like the most obvious choice, the vampire has flown up here and any second now he’s going to ask to be invited in, and—

“Blaine!”

Oh god it knows his name.

“Blaaaaaine! Come on, it’s fucking cold and I’m going to fall and die!”

Blaine peeks his head out from under his comforter, terror at the sight of a face pressed up against his window. It only lasts a moment because he recognizes who it is.

“Kurt!?” He scrambles out of bed, and goes to push the window up before realizing it’s locked. He quickly unlocks it and slides the window and storm glass up as high as he can, letting in a gust of frigid wind and a very snowy looking Kurt Hummel. “What—how did you—what are you doing here?”

Kurt is smiling triumphantly, breathing hard, cheeks flushed and hair damp, snow falling in his wake. He closes the window when Blaine does not and starts to take his winter things off. “I remembered what you said, about being afraid of the dark, and when the power went out I just thought, poor Blaine, stuck in that big old house with nobody home, I bet he’s freaking out. So I drove over, and I was going to call but I left my phone at the house. I couldn’t see you through any of the downstairs windows, so I came into your backyard and there’s a picnic table, and this trellis thing up the back wall? I climbed it, and let me tell you, it’s a lot harder to do than you see in movies.”

Blaine just stands there, looking at Kurt in awe. Never, ever, has someone gone to such lengths just to make sure he was okay. His heart feels ready to burst, and when Kurt finally stops talking, he can’t hold still anymore. He throws his arms around Kurt, holding tight. “You are the�best thing�I have�ever�seen.”

Kurt laughs, Blaine can feel his body shake from it, and hugs back. “So it’s true, you really are afraid.”

Blaine blushes and hides his face against Kurt’s chest a moment before pulling back. “When I was little I was playing Explorer and accidentally got locked in a tool shed for most of a day. No one knew I was there, and it was dark and smelled bad, and I just…” He pauses, shrugs, looking at Kurt’s collar. He can still smell it, sometimes, that shed, but doesn’t say so. “I always figured that’s where it came from."

“Hey, I’m not judging,” Kurt says, giving Blaine’s waist a squeeze before stepping away altogether. “I just wasn’t sure how bad it was. I’m glad I came over.” Kurt smiles and moves to the window.

“Me too,” Blaine says, watching silently as Kurt starts to pull the curtains closed.

“Is this okay? It’ll help keep the warmth in, but if you want the light from the window—”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says. “I feel better now that I’m not alone.”

Kurt closes it all the way, throwing the room back into darkness. Blaine’s eyes start to adjust, and then there’s a beam of warm light coming from Kurt’s direction. “I brought a flashlight.”

“You’ve thought of everything. You’re even in your pajamas.” Blaine sits down on the bed, and Kurt joins him.

“I was already in them, dad and I were watching a movie.”

There’s an awkward silence, which is kind of weird because it never feels like this between them. Maybe it’s the dark and how silent the world around them is.

“Well, there isn’t much to do,” Blaine starts to say.

“We should probably just go to bed,” Kurt says, the flashlight beam bouncing as he jiggles his leg.

“Sure.” Blaine scoots to the end of the bed, unfolding the extra blankets at its foot, and lays them out over the comforter. Who knows how cold it’ll get without power. He supposes if it gets too bad they can move to the den and start a fire. He crawls under the blankets and Kurt follows suit, holding the flashlight between them.

“It’s like camping,” Kurt says, his smiling face shadowed.

“I’ve never been.”

“Yeah? My mom and dad and I went when I was little, and then later just me and my dad,” Kurt says, not quite meeting Blaine’s eyes. “I can’t say it’s something I’d have much interest in now, though. All the dirt, and peeing behind bushes.”

Blaine grins, just imagining Kurt in the wilderness. Flannel shirts and constructing tents. Actually, it’s kind of a nice mental picture. Sweet. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s because you’re such a�boy.”

Something warm unfurls in Blaine’s chest at Kurt’s words. Kurt’s eyes are on his again, and Blaine nearly gets lost in them, such vibrant blues, even in the dark. He can hardly speak at first. “And you aren’t?” he asks, even if he knows what Kurt means.

Kurt stretches like a cat. “I’d prefer a day at the spa.”

Blaine laughs. “I do know of a girl’s sleepover happening right now, they’ve probably moved on to painting each others nails by candlelight if you’d rather be there.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” Kurt says, and just like that Blaine stomach does another pleasant flip. He knows he shouldn’t be taking what Kurt says so seriously, to imagine it having so much meaning behind it, but it’s hard not to feel a small flutter when he says things like that.

“What’s up with your hair, by the way?” Kurt continues, smirking.

Blaine blinks and reaches up, and oh yeah. Certainly his mohawk’s gotten a bit messy since Tina styled it, but she used so much gel it feels like there’s still some remnant of it left. He groans. “Mercedes was having a party and Tina decided I’d look hot with a mohawk.”

Kurt’s tongue flicks out to lick the corner of his mouth and he stares at Blaine’s hair, as though deciding something. “Maybe with those clothes you had on earlier today.”

Blaine flushes, part embarrassment, part arousal from the look in Kurt’s eyes. Which is one hundred percent made up, Blaine is sure. It’s just dark. Still, his reply is hard to form. “T-that was Santana’s idea.”

“Do they often use you as their doll?”

“No, they just…wanted to go shopping.” It sounds lame even to his ears.

“Were you trying to impress someone?” Kurt asks.

Blaine can’t move, let alone say anything. Kurt looks so serious, so completely serious, staring right at him like he�knows. When Blaine doesn’t reply, Kurt shuts the flashlight off with a click. “We should go to sleep,” he says, his voice barely there.

Blaine’s breathing sounds too loud to his ears. He’s afraid to move because of the noise it will make, because he didn’t answer Kurt. Is this going to be another chance he’s not going to take, not even in the dark where it’s so easy to hide?

He lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

“Yes.” It’s hardly more than a whisper, and there’s a small rustle next to him.

“Hm?”

“I was.”

“Who?” comes Kurt’s voice out of the darkness. Blaine bites into his lower lip, heart drumming an uneven rhythm he swears even Kurt must hear. “Blaine?”

Blaine swallows around the dryness of his throat. “You.”

There isn’t an answer at first. “Why? You know that isn’t who I am, not really.”

Is he being deliberately obtuse, does he really want Blaine to spell it out? The spark of frustration is enough to answer with. “I wasn’t trying to look tough, I was trying to look�good.”

There’s a click and the flashlight is on, but it must be pointing at their feet or something because there’s barely enough light to see by. Kurt props himself on his side, looking down at Blaine. “For me?”

Everything is too hot, too much, Blaine can feel his eyes sting because he never should have opened his big mouth. “I don’t know how to make you like me like that,” he says in a rush, helpless against keeping the words from spilling from his mouth.

Kurt’s eyes are wide in the dark. “I—”

“Nevermind,” Blaine cuts him off and starts to sit up, reaching for the flashlight so Kurt can’t�see, but there’s a hand on his chest, and not a second later, lips pressed to his.

The kiss doesn’t register at first and there’s an awkward moment when Blaine almost jerks away, but then he�realizes. Kurt is�kissing�him.�Kurt is kissing him.�There’s a small noise, something like a sigh or whimper, his eyes fall closed and he kisses back. Kurt’s hand tightens in his shirt, but his mouth is so soft on Blaine’s, and it’s like every good feeling Blaine has ever had have all come together to fill every part of him. Every sense is heightened; every nerve-ending aware of all the places Kurt is touching him. Especially their mouths. Oh god, Kurt’s�mouth.

Blaine can’t believe this is happening. Kurt is kissing him so tenderly, their lips touching and sliding against each other gently, the kiss an almost teasing thing. Everything is delicate and Blaine can’t breathe, can’t think anything but�Kurt.

Kurt’s mouth opens over his and he parts his lips in turn, letting Kurt’s tongue in, sending a spike of heat down his whole body. His tongue meets Kurt’s with a moan, and just like that Kurt is pushing him back, climbing over him, kissing him hard and desperate and Blaine reaches up to hold on, saying without words�yes, yes, this is exactly what I want. It isn’t careful anymore, and he can feel Kurt’s need like a palpable thing, something in the air, something hot and stifling and perfect. Kurt’s hands are in his hair, holding him there to be kissed, tongue insistent and Blaine helpless against how amazing it all feels. Never was it like this with any of the girls he dated, not even a little.

Kurt’s hand tugs at his hair, it should hurt but it�doesn’t, and his hips jerk in response. He groans brokenly, his face is hot with embarrassment because he’s hard and Kurt is on top of him and he has to feel it.

“Blaine,” Kurt’s voice is nothing but a gasp, his lips brushing against Blaine’s when he speaks. “Wanted this for so long…”

“What?” Blaine says, wonders if he made it up in his head and wants to ask, but Kurt’s mouth is on his again and all he can do is moan and kiss him, and god he never wants to stop kissing him. Blaine’s hands move to Kurt’s face, fingers soft against Kurt’s skin, smooth like he’s always imagined it to be.

Kurt’s face turns, kissing Blaine’s palm, sucking in short breaths through his nostrils. “We should stop.”

“Why?” Blaine asks, not even trying to hide how terrible an idea that sounds.

“Because.” Kurt purposefully shifts, and Blaine lets out an involuntary moan because�fuck, Kurt is hard. He can feel him against his stomach, and it takes everything within Blaine’s power not to lock his legs around Kurt and just�keep�him there.

“Me too,” he says, looking up at Kurt in the dim light.

“I know.” Kurt climbs off him and Blaine would really like to throw propriety to the wind right now.

Kurt stays on his side facing Blaine, and they’re so close, bodies still mostly touching. Kurt looks completely debauched, cheeks blotchy and pink, hair unruly, and his�mouth. His mouth is probably the same as ever, but Blaine likes to think it looks at least a little swollen, thinks it must feel as tingly and numb and wonderful as Blaine’s.

Blaine slides his hand up Kurt’s arm, fingers trailing along his neck, his jaw and cheek. He lightly traces Kurt’s lips. Kurt’s eyes never leave his, and Blaine’s face warms under his gaze.

“You like me,” Blaine says, smiling slowly.

“I like you a�lot,” Kurt says, his voice coming out husky, evoking a tiny thrill. Kurt’s fingers bury themselves back in Blaine’s hair, heedless of the dry gel, and bring their faces together for another kiss.

“I like you too,” Blaine says in a whisper between kisses, “so much.”

“How long have you liked me?” Blaine has to know, wondering how and when and why.

Kurt tries to hide his face in his pillow, suddenly shy. “Since forever.”

“Shut up,” Blaine laughs. “Seriously, how long?”

Kurt’s shoulder gives a little shrug, he’s looking down and all Blaine can see of his eyes are his beautiful lashes. Everything about him is beautiful. “Since I first saw you, basically.”

“You�slushied�me!”

“I panicked!”

“You’re lying,” Blaine says.

“I’m not, I swear.” There is such grave surety in Kurt’s voice, even if he does still seem amused. “Look, I had the slushie ready to throw at someone to re-establish my number one asshole status. It was the start of a new school year, I had to make a point. And then you walked up to me and you were so cute that my first instinct was to get away as fast as possible. Except for how it wasn’t possible because everyone was�right there. So…I chose a worse sort of self-protection.” Kurt’s frowning now, his eyes conveying the level of guilt he must have been carrying around ever since.

Blaine has long since gotten over how Kurt initially treated him. Blaine knows who he really is, and he doesn’t even do those things anymore. It seems like Kurt hasn’t fully forgiven himself, though.

“I—actually, that’s kind of sweet—”�Kurt’s�face. Blaine hurries to explain himself. “Not that you�slushied�me. That you thought I was cute,” he says, unable to stop the blush he feels spreading across his cheeks. “I never would have thought you’d…um, find me attractive.”

Kurt’s mouth opens but nothing comes out at first. “Are you�kidding�me?”

Blaine blinks at the ferocity with which that’s said.

“No, I’m serious. Blaine, why�wouldn’t�I be?”

“Because,” Blaine says, and huffs in frustration when that doesn’t seem to be answer enough for Kurt. “You like Vogue models, and that guy at the club? And Finn? I’m short and I like bowties and…” He shrugs a little. “I'm plain. Santana calls me�Blanderson.”

“You are�anything�but plain,” Kurt says. “Blaine, you’re�stunning.”

The conviction in Kurt’s voice makes Blaine’s stomach swoop and he looks away because it’s too much.

“Blaine.” Kurt’s hands cup his face and he crosses what little distance is left between them. Blaine lets the heat of Kurt’s mouth replace the heat of embarrassment and worry. “My taste is impeccable. You know that, right?”

Blaine’s finding it difficult to think at the moment, but the corners of his mouth curl up, an image of Kurt’s closet coming to mind. “Yeah.”

“Then please believe me when I say—“ Kurt kisses him. “—that you are the most—“ His cheek. “—exquisite—“ His jaw. “—breathtaking—“ His neck. Kurt begins to suck until Blaine’s fingers fist in his shirt, and then he mouths his way up to Blaine’s ear and whispers in it, “--sexiest�boy I have ever laid eyes on.”

“Kurt.” Blaine turns his face until his mouth connects with Kurt’s, until they’re kissing and Kurt’s beginning to lose the taste in his mouth because now they just taste like each other. He’s the one to tip Kurt back, this time, moving half on top of him, reaching under his shirt with one hand, dragging it along warm skin, trembling from how good it feels to touch, from how much more he�wants�to touch.

“You’re beautiful, Kurt,” he says, breathing erratic and voice rough with feeling. “You’re�beautiful.” His fingers stroke up Kurt’s side, over his ribs to his chest. He finds Kurt’s nipple with his finger and gives an experimental rub. Kurt keens, hips jerking up, and Blaine can feel he’s hard again, or still, or.

Blaine has done some research since he realized he was gay. He found some websites. He found some�videos. Connecting the things he’s read and seen with what they’re doing now, with Kurt at�all, is a surreal concept because this is�right now�and Kurt’s body is warm and pliant under his hands and the men in those videos did not seem at all like people. They were people-shaped, sure, but they were�men�and they knew exactly what they were doing. They could bend in ways Blaine never would imagine possible. In theory, he and Kurt could do all those things. In theory.

“Shouldn’t we—shouldn’t we slow down, date first, or something?” Kurt’s panting shallowly, clutching at Blaine, leaning up to kiss him before he can even reply.

“Mmm…” Blaine cannot�resist his mouth, but manages to mumble. “We just went to a movie last week.”

“You didn’t even hold my hand,” Kurt says, and bites at Blaine’s jaw.

“’Cause you made me buy my own popcorn,” Blaine says. He rubs his thumb over Kurt’s nipple again, teases it, pinches it, can’t get enough of the sounds Kurt’s making because of�him.

There is no witty comeback, just, “Blaine,” and cursing, and Kurt’s hands move from Blaine’s back to his ass and squeeze. Blaine hisses and drops his head, crashing their mouths together. Kurt’s hips buck, rutting against him, and Blaine can feel�everything�through the thin layers of their pajama pants. Blaine coaxes Kurt’s tongue into his mouth, starts sucking at it like it’s something else, sucking in time with the thrusts of his own hips. Kurt is moaning so loudly, or maybe he is, maybe both of them, Blaine doesn’t know because he’s mindless from the friction, he can feel the pressure building, making his toes curl.

Kurt tears his mouth away with a gasp and he’s�shaking. He moans Blaine’s name and his hips move erratically and suddenly he’s coming. Blaine can feel Kurt�coming. Kurt’s head is thrown back, the pale stretch of his neck taunt and eyes squeezed closed, fingers digging into Blaine’s ass to hold him there, hips flush, and�jesus holy fucking shit�this is the hottest thing Blaine has ever,�ever�seen.

Kurt’s eyes open and he lets out this whimper and Blaine isn’t even aware one of Kurt’s hands has left his ass until he feels it cupping him. “Kurt. Oh my god,�Kurt.” Blaine makes some kind of probably embarrassing noise and Kurt manages to stroke him over his pajamas once, twice, three times and he loses it, coming harder than he even thought possible.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he keeps saying, all but collapsing on top of Kurt when there’s nothing left in him. Kurt’s kissing his face and his hand hasn’t moved, is just holding him, possessive, while Blaine tries to remember how to�breathe.

Blaine turns on his side, flush against Kurt without being on top of him, and Kurt’s still kissing any bit of skin he can so reverently that Blaine almost wants to cry. That felt better than anything he ever imagined. It felt�right. There have been times since he realized he was gay where he has questioned it, only because before Kurt he couldn’t remember feeling attracted to any guys, and there was this tiny shred of doubt. He’d wonder if he would really want the exact thing that just happened. Now that doubt seems so astonishingly ridiculous that Blaine knows it was nothing but fear of the unknown. How could anything to do with this amazing boy in his arms be wrong?

Kurt’s mouth stills and they lay quietly nose to nose, breathing and heartbeats slowing.

“I’m sweaty,” Blaine realizes. This gets a laugh out of Kurt, and Blaine tilts his head back enough that he can see him, smiling.

“Is that all?” Kurt’s hand gives a gentle squeeze.

“Hey—okay, sticky, too.”

“Nasty.” Kurt’s teases, looks so smug and pleased with himself it just makes Blaine love him even more.

“All because of you.” Blaine waggles his eyebrows and gets Kurt to laugh again.

“Dibs on the bathroom,” Kurt says, and rolls out of Blaine’s reach and off the bed, taking the flashlight with him.

Blaine isn’t scared, though, and scoots up and out from under the sheets, smiling. Kurt leaves the bathroom door open a crack so the room isn’t left in total darkness. Blaine lays back in bed, eyelids heavy, his orgasm leaving him sated and sleepy.

He slips into sleep and doesn’t even realize it until he’s woken up by Kurt however much later, hair damp and messy, wearing a pair of his pajama pants. Kurt is leaning over him, kissing along his jaw. “Your turn,” he says.

Blaine leans up for a brief kiss before climbing out of bed. His shower is quick, he has no intention of leaving Kurt alone any longer than is absolutely necessary.

Kurt’s awake, smiling up at him as he returns in clean pajamas with the flashlight. “You took way too long,” Kurt says. There’s a stilted moment of uncertainty when he slides back into bed where neither of them move, and it hits Blaine how new this is. He shifts closer and just like that it’s gone, melts away like their bodies into each other. Kurt tucks Blaine against his chest and nuzzles the back of Blaine’s neck, sending a pleasant shiver along his skin.

“Did you just make me the little spoon?” Blaine asks.

Kurt scoffs. “You’re shorter, it’s the rule.”

“Where did you see that, the spooning handbook?”

“Mmhm, says you have to bottom, too.”

Blaine barks out a laugh. “Shut�up, that is not how that works!”

“Are you�opposed�to bottoming?” Kurt says with his mouth on Blaine’s ear.

Blaine’s dick twitches and holy god he had no idea about this side of Kurt. “God no,” he says, and it comes out breathy and Kurt is making this�gloating�sound which somehow manages to sound really sexy and…crap. He needs to shut this down now if he doesn’t want to try sleeping through a hard-on. “No more talking.”

Blaine can practically feel the smugness radiating from Kurt in waves. “Yes, sir.”

Oh wait, no. That’s Kurt’s hand…there.

“Kurt!”

“What?”

“Be good! It’s like three in the morning!”

“My dream just came true and you expect me to sleep?”

Blaine blushes, his stomach giving yet another familiar swoop. “Yes I do,” he says, keeps his voice light but squeezes Kurt’s hand.

Kurt kisses his still-damp hair. “Fine, fine.”

“Good night, Kurt,” Blaine whispers.

“Good night, Blaine.”

It’s a minute or so before his heart calms down and exhaustion catches up with him. He’s asleep before he knows it, warm and happy in Kurt’s arms.

----

Blaine wakes up first. At some point during the night, two things happened; one, the power came back, as his bedside lamp is on. Two, he moved, and now he’s lying on his side facing Kurt, which is perfectly fine with him, because what a nice sight to wake up to. Kurt’s sleeping so peacefully. His features look especially delicate, the point of his nose, the fan of his eyelashes, the pink of his lips, parted just so. His hair is tousled and fine, messy from drying as he slept, devoid of hairspray and Kurt’s almost obsessive styling.

Blaine can’t help himself from running his fingers through it, combing it back. Kurt murmurs something nonsensical and stirs, eyes slowly blinking open. Kurt’s face lights up with a smile and Blaine’s heart skips a beat. He almost looks away, not yet used to being able to just�look�at Kurt because he wants to. He feels a rush of emotion at waking up next to Kurt like this, at�having�this.

My dream just came true.

“Morning,” Kurt says, trying to snuggle closer.

Blaine wraps an arm around Kurt and kisses his temple, his soft hair, wondering how this can even be real. He never imagined he could be this happy. “Morning.”

They stay in bed together until their bladders demand otherwise. It’s cold without Kurt in his arms, and he wonders if it’s unusual to need to touch someone as badly as he wants to be touching Kurt. Just a wrist or an elbow, it doesn’t matter, being without Kurt suddenly seems impossible.

Teeth brushed, pajamas still on, they grab some cereal and sit together on the couch with Lord and Lady Gaga to watch Saturday morning cartoons. Well, more like Saturday�afternoon�cartoons. Kurt’s arm is around his waist, cereal bowl precariously balanced on a pillow in his lap, and Blaine is fairly sure he’s never been more content than he is in this moment.

“Your taste in television programs is abhorrent,” Kurt says at one point.

“Says the boy who’s obsessed with Gray’s Anatomy.”

“Hey! That’s quality programming. Ratings don’t lie.”

Blaine pretends to look thoughtful. “And the general population�is…”

“Hmph.”

And then there’s milk flicked at Blaine’s�arm, and then there’s wrestling, and then they’re making out on the couch, cereal and TV forgotten.

They make out most of the afternoon in between far less exciting things, like letting the dogs out to pee, answering the door after really incessant knocking (Jehovah’s Witnesses, and�that�had been interesting), a phone call to check in from Kurt’s dad, and a late lunch. Making out is really amazingly awesome, Blaine discovers, and he can’t seem to get enough of Kurt’s mouth.

They don’t get as far as the previous night, at least not until late in the day when Blaine insists on seeing Kurt’s chest. Maybe his chest shouldn’t be such a big deal, guys are allowed to wander around shirtless, they’ve both been in the locker room after gym at the same time (though Blaine never let himself�really�look, not with so many other boys around). But now he�needs�to. Kurt’s always in so many layers, even when he’s just wearing a regular shirt at school, the weather has been so cold that there’s always a sweatshirt or a hoodie over it. But now...

Blaine is straddling Kurt, who’s laying back against the couch all worked up and flushed pink. Blaine begins to unbutton Kurt’s pajama top, fingers moving excruciatingly slow, and Kurt makes a frustrated sound.

“God, Blaine, what—"

"Shh."

"Are you going to draw me like one of your French girls?” Kurt asks.

“Shh,” Blaine says, trailing his fingers up the bared sliver of skin after each undone button.

“—It’s not like I’m hiding a fantastic rack under here—”

“Shh.”

“—You’ve already felt me up anyway—”

“Shh…”

Blaine just likes to explore, and if he wants to make a big deal out of it, he will. When he gets to the top button and looks down into Kurt’s eyes he’s rewarded with the sight of widened pupils and heavy breathing, and�this�is why dragging it out is worth it.

He pushes the shirt open, helps Kurt free his arms, and just�looks.�Kurt’s chest is mostly hairless, lean and pale, curving into a slender waist. His nipples are a perfect brown-pink.

“Are you just gonna�look?” Kurt asks, hips shifting, and Blaine knows he wants more. Neither of them have taken it to that point yet and it’s been hours of sporadic make-out sessions.

“Maybe,” Blaine says, and grinds down a little.

“Oh fuck me�please…”

“Listen to that mouth of yours.” Blaine’s palms skate up Kurt’s sides, fingers mapping a path from stomach to chest, avoiding his nipples except for brief, teasing sweeps. Kurt’s skin is so�soft.

“Can’t help it,” Kurt says, hands curling behind his head. “You’re a bad influence.”

“I never taught you these things.” Blaine bends to kiss along Kurt’s chest, hands pressing down on his shoulders.

Kurt sucks in a breath. “I blame television and video games, then.”

“What happened to innocent, romantic Kurt Hummel?”

Kurt’s hands grip Blaine’s hair and�pull�and Blaine lets out a throaty moan. “I have this incredibly hot, tease of a boyfriend who won’t let me get off.”

Blaine’s fingers tighten their hold on Kurt and he swirls his tongue around a nipple, moaning against his skin.

“Ohgodwhat…Blaine…”

Blaine looks up, stops licking. “Mm?”

“N-nothing…”

Blaine resumes what he was doing, moves to the other nipple after a moment and does the same. “Feel good?” he asks, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin.

Kurt keeps moving restlessly under him. “Yeah, just…god, is this normal?”

“Dunno,” Blaine says, and starts to suck. That�really�gets his hair pulled, so he sucks harder.

Kurt cries out and jerks his hips, humping up against Blaine. “No,” Blaine whispers. Kurt isn’t allowed to get off yet. Breathless, Blaine raises up and crawls down Kurt’s body, tugging his pants past his hips and out of the way. Kurt’s legs are covered with fine, light hair, and Blaine drags his hands up his thighs. A hum of appreciation. He slips his hand beneath Kurt’s boxer briefs, eliciting a startled sound and Blaine’s name repeated in a hushed, needy voice. Kurt’s cock is warm and sticky with pre-come and impossibly hard, but the skin is soft. It doesn’t feel like when he touches himself, not really. Blaine moves his hand along Kurt’s cock with feather-light, experimental touches, watching Kurt for a sign that this is too much. �Kurt looks so blissed out, Blaine can’t tell.

“Is this okay?” he whispers.

“Please,” Kurt whimpers, eyebrows drawn up.

“Kurt.” Blaine lets go to lick his hand, spits on it, gets it as wet as he can and Kurt watches, squirms and waits. Blaine recovers his grip and moves his hand up, down, finds a rhythm and strokes. Kurt is anxious beneath him, covers his eyes with a hand. Blaine moves Kurt’s hand away by his wrist, holds it down beside his head. “I want to see your face when you come.”

Kurt cries out, this helpless sound, and does just that, right then, and god if that isn’t the hottest thing�ever. He watches Kurt’s eyes unfocus as the orgasm takes hold, watches his mouth work around a moan. His hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyes dark.

“And you said�I�had a mouth,” Kurt says, still breathing hard.

“I don’t know what’s come over me,” Blaine says, and he doesn’t. He feels mindless with need now that he has Kurt here with him like this.

“It’s me,” Kurt says, pressing Blaine back into the couch. “I inspire dirty talk and even dirtier handjobs.”

Blaine grins at Kurt, but it’s like looking through a haze. All he can feel is how hard he is, he�aches. “Please?”

“Oh, your turn to beg, is it?” Kurt says, pulling Blaine’s shirt up and off, tossing it to points unknown. He runs his fingers through the hair on Blaine’s chest, and Blaine can’t even muster up a twinge of self-consciousness because he�needs. “Now it’s�my�turn to lick at you in naughty places and drive you mad.”

“Kurt…”

He’s so close already, he will never last.

But Kurt’s head is already bent, and Blaine suspects the sudden blush along his cheeks is out of shyness or nervousness and not some post-jerkoff bliss, because when he reaches one of Blaine’s nipples only the tip of his tongue delves out. This tiny little kitten lick, and Blaine�can’t. He gasps and jerks and�comes, untouched.

Kurt sits up in shock. “What just happened?”

Blaine groans helplessly and cups himself over his pants, too busy trying to remember how to breathe to answer.

“Oh my god! I didn’t even get to touch you!”

Kurt looks so�affronted�Blaine almost wants to laugh, but can’t. “I was too worked up.”

“Blaine Anderson, we are going to have to work on your stamina.”

“You’re hot when you’re all disapproving,” Blaine says. Kurt tries to look stern, but Blaine knows better and pulls him down to kiss his bitchface away.

----

It isn’t much later when Burt calls again, inviting them both over for dinner.�Apparently he thinks two teenage boys can’t feed themselves, Kurt tells Blaine, and then says he suspects it’s the other way around. Kurt suggests that Blaine bring the dogs and himself over to stay the night, and Blaine really can’t pass that up.

As they get out of Kurt’s truck, Blaine wrangles the dogs with one hand and takes Kurt’s hand with the other. Kurt’s hand jerks away and he meets Blaine’s gaze with a look of surprise. “My dad will see—”

“So?”

“So.”

“But—he�knows, so what’s the problem?”

Kurt looks like he’s choking on something for a moment. “He knows that we’re�gay, but he doesn’t know we’re…um…”

Blaine frowns, trying and failing not to feel a pang of disappointment. “What, Kurt? You can’t even say it to me?”

“No,” Kurt says. His voice softens, something shy once more creeping in. “That you’re my boyfriend.”

Blaine feels like a bit of an ass having reacted like that, and can’t help but smile to be called Kurt’s boyfriend officially. He feels�elated. “Sorry, this is new to me, too.”

“I know. I know honesty is important to you, I do, but I’d rather we don’t tell my dad about this after we just came back from spending a night alone together, because I don’t know how he’ll react, and I’d prefer him not pulling a shotgun out on you or giving us a sex talk.�Especially�that second one—”

“Rude.”

Kurt grins impishly. “I’ll tell him, I swear, but how about Sunday night when you aren’t there?”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” Blaine says. “I’m fine to wait until you’re ready. We did just kind of jump into everything.”

Kurt looks embarrassed. “We did, didn’t we? Usually couples date first.”

“You and this�dating. I promise to take you out in all the elegance you deserve just as soon as I get the chance,” Blaine says, making Kurt smile so wide. “We’re friends, though, so it isn’t like we don’t know each other, and I’ve just—god, I�dream�of you, Kurt.”

Kurt’s eyes go dark, and Blaine can’t even finish his statement, didn’t even mean to say it in the first place, not like that, but seriously, how had they even kept apart this long to begin with?

“Me too.” Kurt looks like he wants to say more, and Blaine waits. Hums a question mark, urging him to continue. “You know, I’ve always been kind of…” His lips purse in thought. “Uncomfortable about intimacy.”

Blaine’s mouth opens. And closes. And opens again. “Maybe we should talk about this later? In your room, or…just not in your front yard?”

“Yeah. Sure, actually.” Kurt laughs a little. “Ugh. Come on, let’s go.”

Dinner goes smoothly. There’s no reason it shouldn’t, of course, but there is some small worry in the back of Blaine’s mind that one of them will slip up, or that it will just show on their faces and Burt will know. Not that it’d be the end of the world or anything, but he does understand Kurt’s concern, and he’d rather not make things completely awkward when the day has been going so well. In fact, he’d still be floating on cloud nine if it wasn’t for Kurt’s earlier admittance.

In bed that night, Blaine is spooning Kurt from behind, sensing some undercurrent of vulnerability that makes him want to be the one doing the holding.

“You said, earlier,” Blaine starts to whisper, like he can’t raise his voice any higher in the still dark.

“Yeah,” Kurt says, just as quiet. He doesn’t continue right away, and Blaine waits.

“I guess it’s more the idea of intimacy than anything else. Growing up confused, and feeling like—god, if I even touched a guy it was— I had to be careful. It didn’t feel okay, because then they’d�know, and if they knew they’d be disgusted. Other than the two times I’d gone to that club, the time you picked me up and once before I met you, I’d been drinking and it was just.” There’s a small pause. “Kissing and dancing, you know? I was so drunk I couldn’t even remember what it felt like the next day. I knew I’d done it, just not what it was�like, except that I felt so stupid after.”

Blaine kisses Kurt's shoulder and doesn’t say anything at first. He can't imagine what it would be like, growing up and feeling the need to have to hide something so huge about yourself. Or worse, to think of yourself disgusting, that other people would be disgusted by you. Kurt must have been so�lonely. Blaine's presses into the back of Kurt's neck. He can't get close enough.

“I didn’t cross any lines, did I?” he asks, says it in a rush because that’s what’s had him uneasy all night. The idea that he may have done something Kurt hadn’t wanted.

“No, no,” Kurt says firmly. “I would have stopped you. When it comes to you, it’s like. All these ideas I had? The things that scared me? Go away when you touch me.” Kurt’s hand finds Blaine’s and winds around it. “Like they never existed at all.”

“I’d never hurt you,” Blaine whispers.

“I know. Blaine, you’re more than I could ever ask for.”

Blaine doesn’t know how to respond to that, just tightens his arms around Kurt and holds on.

----

Kurt calls on Sunday night as promised.

“Well, I told my dad,” is how Kurt starts the conversation, and then just�stops�like that’s all Blaine wants to know.

“And?” Blaine prompts.

“He’s happy—”

It’s all Kurt needs to say to send the anxiety that had been coiling up in Blaine’s stomach away. He isn’t sure he could take Burt not accepting their relationship. Aside from the fact that Burt means a lot to him, he�knows�telling his own parents is a terrible idea, and he's sure Kurt doesn’t want anyone at school to know.

“—And he said he could tell I liked you right away, which was embarrassing.”

“Oh my god,” Blaine says, but he’s grinning, can’t�stop�grinning. “I guess I was the only one who didn’t realize.”

Kurt sighs. “Oblivious boyfriend is oblivious.”

Blaine’s chest tightens, he goes warm all over.�“Yeah, well, all that matters is that we’re together now, right?” he says, lying back on his bed, staring up at his ceiling with a big smile on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s really amazing, actually,” Kurt says over the line, and Blaine can hear the sincerity in his voice.

“It is,” Blaine says softly, and turns his body so he can hug a pillow. If that makes him a dork, at least there’s no one here to see it. “So, is your dad going to give us a talk?”

Kurt snickers. “I don’t know. I�hope�not. Just keep up that innocent schoolboy thing and maybe he’ll leave us alone.”

“Innocent schoolboy thing?”

“You are unusually well-mannered, charming, and sweet for a seventeen year old boy. You are every parent’s dream, you know. Did you meet Rachel’s parents before homecoming? I bet they nearly crapped themselves in happiness that it was you taking their daughter out and not some hooligan.”

“Oh my god, Kurt,” Blaine says, openly laughing. “Did you just say�hooligan—look, it’s not a thing, I just…”

“You want people to like you, I know.”

Blaine blushes from embarrassment, glad Kurt can’t see it, and looks down at his bedspread.

“I get it, Blaine, it’s not a bad thing,” Kurt continues. “I was just teasing you. I'm sorry.”

His voice comes out quiet. “You don’t have to apologize.”

There’s a long moment where neither of them say anything. “I pissed you off, I’m sorry—”

“I’m not,” Blaine starts to say, but Kurt cuts him off again.

“—It’s just, your parents—”

“I don’t want to talk about them,” Blaine says, cutting Kurt off this time.

“Okay. Okay, sorry.”

“Stop…stop saying you’re�sorry.” Blaine sighs and presses his forehead into his pillow. “I just. I don’t want you to think I’m not genuine.”

“I�don’t, Blaine. I don’t think there’s anything you do that doesn’t come straight from your heart,” Kurt says.

There’s another stretch of silence, and Blaine finally says, “Got you to like me, anyway.”

Kurt laughs, sort of a soft, breathy sound. “You’re pretty irresistible.”

They talk for over an hour and then spend another thirty minutes trying to hang up, and Blaine goes to bed smiling. He is someone's�boyfriend, and even has parental approval.�Can it even get any better than this?