Blaine wakes up to Kurt trying to climb over him. "What--"

"M'gonna puke," Kurt croaks, finally scaling Blaine's body and half falling into the bathroom in his haste. "Oh god..."

Blaine winces in sympathy at the sound of retching coming from the other room. He pulls himself out of bed and finds Kurt kneeling over the toilet, looking paler than usual.

"I'm never drinking again," Kurt moans.

Blaine sits down next to him, facing the wall instead of the toilet, and gently rubs his back. "You'll feel better once you get it all out."

Kurt just groans, and Blaine's eyes squeeze closed at the sound of more vomiting. Blaine stands up and scans the room until he finds a cup. Kurt probably uses it to gargle, so he rinses it out and fills it with fresh water.

"Here, wash your mouth out," Blaine says, putting the cup between Kurt's hands.

"Thank you," Kurt replies, doing as instructed.

Once Kurt has passed through the worst of it, Blaine finds him some aspirin. He makes the room as hangover-proof as possible, drawing the curtains closed, and helps Kurt back into bed. He covers Kurt's forehead with a cool, damp washcloth, sitting close in case Kurt needs anything. Kurt reaches up and wraps his fingers around Blaine's wrist, slipping his hand into Blaine's. Blaine’s heart skips a beat.

"You're like a mom," Kurt says with a faint smile, something he must think looks teasing.

Blaine returns the smile. "I could always go get your dad."

Kurt groans. "Please, no. He'd kick my ass," he says, letting go. Blaine can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed.

"It's okay. I won't tell."

Kurt's quiet for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Blaine."

"Why?" Blaine asks, startled.

"For calling you like that last night. Making you deal with me. You didn't have to."

"Kurt--"

"I hope I didn't disturb your dance." Kurt finally looks at him. Really looks. "Oh god, you're still in your dress shirt and pants. And they're wrinkled." He looks mildly horrified. Leave it to Kurt to worry about clothes at a time like this.

Blaine cracks a smile. "The dance was over, it was no problem. What are friends for, right?" Kurt smiles, and Blaine can't resist. His knuckles brush against Kurt's cheek, fingers against his temple under the pretense of adjusting the washcloth. "Sleep, okay? It's still early."

"'Kay," Kurt says, closing his eyes. Blaine stays where he is and watches for a few minutes.

It's 8:05am and either his parents aren't up or they just haven't noticed Blaine's empty bedroom, because when he checks his phone it has no new messages. He texts his mom to let her know he and some friends are going to IHop, and hopes a text message instead of a note doesn't seem too suspicious.

He goes to Kurt's closet because he can't spend the day in his suit. Kurt has his clothing arranged by color, and Blaine can't help a tiny smile. Kurt takes such care, loves these clothes he won't even let himself wear so much. As Blaine's looking through the blue shirts, it hits him.

It wasn't the drinking. He likes Kurt.

Really likes him.

And not just now, either. Not with how secretly happy he'd been when Kurt called him from the club. Kurt hadn’t called Karofsky or Azimio or whoever, Kurt had called him. Not with the thrill he gets singing to Kurt. Singing with him. Not with the way he lights up every time Kurt texts him out of the blue. Or how pleased he is when Kurt borrows his clothes. Or the way Kurt's eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way he leans close when they're studying, the way he--

Not just friends.

Blaine has always liked Kurt. Maybe his brain just wouldn't let himself realize it, wouldn’t make the connection because he didn’t think such a connection was even a possibility, but he likes Kurt. He has for a long time.

Blaine rests his forehead against the clothing rail, closing his eyes. Realization wants to feel like a relief, but at the moment he's too scared to let it in. He's out of his depth, confused. This changes him. This means he's...gay. Or bisexual. Or something, something not straight. And here he is, always telling Kurt to have courage, to not hide, to be himself for the world to see. And right now Blaine would like nothing more than to hide away, even from himself.

It's not like he thinks there's anything wrong with being gay. He's never had a problem with the idea, he's just never applied it to himself. It's never been personal. What will be different about him? Should he tell someone? Should he tell everyone?

Oh wow. He can't stop thinking it: oh wow.

He doesn't just like Kurt...he's gay.

It explains so much. It feels like all the little cogs and gears of his existence all finally fit together, wound up and ready to go. He has to tell someone. He should tell Kurt. Kurt will know what to do.

But then, no.

Blaine thinks about Kurt and the bullying and his dear clothes all hidden away, kept in a safe place waiting for another life.

No, then.

Although, they could be a support. They could help each other. Except, what if Kurt figures out Blaine likes him? Blaine is one hundred percent sure he isn't ready for that. Because what if Kurt doesn't like him back? Their friendship is so tempestuous, it’s all still so new. Besides, Kurt likes handsome jocks like Finn and Puck, not short, preppy guys like him. Right?

It's too much to take in all at once, and Blaine forces himself to end that train of thought. He picks clothes that look like they'll fit him and slips as quietly as he can into the bathroom. He takes a nice, hot shower, but it does little to relax him. Kurt's clothes fit, not as well as they fit Kurt, of course, but they'll do. He towel dries his hair and leaves it ungelled, taking a deep breath before returning to the bedroom.

Kurt is snoring softly. Blaine takes the washcloth from his forehead and watches him for a minute, hoping Kurt will feel better when he wakes. He doesn't know how long Kurt will sleep, but can't sit here staring the entire morning or he'll go out of his mind. He hates to invade the Hummel's kitchen without permission, but he just can't stay in this bedroom.

Blaine slips downstairs as quietly as possible. He contemplates making breakfast for everyone, wonders if it would be welcome or just intrusive. He's rooting around the fridge to see what they have, when a voice behind him says, "Blaine?"

Blaine jumps a mile. "Oh my god, Mr. Hummel-- Burt. Jesus, you-- I mean. You startled me." He puts his palm to his chest and waits for his heart rate to slow down.

"M'a bit confused myself," Burt says, thankfully in amusement and not annoyance. "I didn't know you were here."

"Some of us went out after the dance last night, so I invited Kurt. It was late, so afterwards he said I could just crash here. I hope you don't mind," Blaine plows on. "You were asleep so we didn't want to wake you. I was going to make breakfast..."

Burt chuckles. Probably at how stupid Blaine's acting; man, he really sucks at lying. "It's fine, of course you're welcome here."

"Thanks," Blaine says, smiling uncertainly. "Um, so, I was going to make scrambled eggs and pancakes, if you like that?"

"Sure, I'll help," Burt says. "We got some turkey bacon or some healthy alternative in there, too."

Blaine and Burt start getting things together, working quietly and companionably. Blaine starts to feel more comfortable, coming down from his earlier revelation. It's kind of crazy how different Burt is from his own father. Blaine isn't sure his father knows how to make anything more complicated than a sandwich, nor would he spend time with Blaine like this. When his father isn't working, he's out in the garage with his old cars, fixing them up so they can sit there looking pretty. Every once in a while he takes them out, but never with Blaine. It seems to be his only hobby.

Blaine's so lost in thought that Burt startles him again when he speaks up.

"So, how was the dance?" Burt asks.

Last night feels like another universe, and the dance, in particular, as if it were months ago. "Um, it was okay. I guess."

"Didja go with somebody?"

"Yeah. Her name is Rachel Berry. She's really nice, we're friends, but. I think she wants to like...you know. Go out." Blaine flips a pancake in the pan and blushes from embarrassment at how personal he's being with his friend's dad.

Burt gives him a curious look. "You don't wanna?"

"I like her, it's just..." And here's the first lie. The first of how many, and for how long? Blaine stares at the pancakes a moment. "I guess I just don't like her like that."

"Just 'cause she's a girl doesn't mean you're obligated," Burt says, like he's got experience, and huffs a quiet laugh.

"Yeah," Blaine agrees, forcing a smile. That statement is true on so many levels. Blaine's eyes burn and he blinks them a few times, but it's no good. Soon they're watering over. He quickly digs the heel of his hand against them, trying to be discreet.

"Blaine?" Burt sounds surprised. "You okay?"

"I-- yeah. The heat from the stove..." But it's no good, the tears keep coming. He is so�stupid...

"Hey, hey," Burt says in such a gentle voice it just makes Blaine cry harder. "Come on, come on, let's go sit down."

"But the food..."

"It'll hold," Burt says, turning off the burner and guiding Blaine by his shoulder into the dining room. He sits Blaine down and settles into a chair across from him, not saying anything at first. "You wanna talk about it?"

Blaine sniffs and wipes his face with a napkin Burt hands him. He smiles out of nervousness. "I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be. I'm a dad, this is our job," Burt says, smiling warmly.

"Not my dad," Blaine says, and realizes too late that he said that out loud. "I mean, I don't know. I'm." He struggles to find the words, and can't. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"As long as you aren't in some kinda danger," Burt says. He gives Blaine a contemplative look. "Did you get this Rachel girl pregnant?"

Blaine knows Burt must have been trying to help by figuring out what was up so Blaine wouldn't have to say it, but it's so far off the mark he can't help but laugh. "Oh no, oh my god, I've never even-- er..."

"Right," Burt says, looking like he's maybe trying not to laugh, too.

Blaine takes a deep breath, but he can't quite meet Burt's eyes. "Okay. I think...I'm pretty sure. I don't like girls at all." His voice lowers, hands digging into the knees of Kurt's jeans. "I think I'm gay."

Burt doesn't say anything at first, and when Blaine chances to look up at him he can't read his expression. "Hm," he says at last. "You tell Kurt?"

"Kurt? No. You're the only one. It's kind of-- I only just realized it. Like. Yesterday. Rachel kissed me and it was just...nothing. And there's this boy," Blaine starts to say, but embarrassment tightens his throat and the words won't come out.

Burt nods. "Well, Blaine, I'm gonna tell you right now, it will be okay," he says, looking Blaine right in the eyes. "It probably won't be easy, but you're still the same boy, and there's nothing wrong with you. Nothing."

Blaine nods, tearing up again. Even though he knew this, he needed to hear someone say it. He needed the assurance, the acceptance.

"And if somebody's got a problem, or somebody messes with you, you can come here," Burt continues. "You understand? No matter what, this is a safe place for you. Okay?"

Blaine can only nod again, his throat too tight and eyes too blurry for anything else. He feels so thankful, and loved, and scared.

"You should tell your folks," he adds. "Y'know, they might just surprise you."

Blaine wipes his eyes with his sleeve. "I don't want to be a disappointment," he all but whispers.

"You're not," Burt says firmly. "And don't ever let anybody tell you that. You're a good kid, Blaine. I've never seen Kurt this happy since you've been coming around."

"Really?" Blaine asks, looking up.

"Really. I know my son. He's always been kind of a loner and an introvert. He's had some friends over before, but to tell the truth they weren't anyone I was too impressed with."

Blaine tries to imagine Karofsky or Azimio hanging out in the Hummel house. All his mind can conjure up is awkward.

"He's different with you. You're a," Burt pauses a moment like he's trying to think of the right word, "positive influence."

This gets a smile out of Blaine. He doesn't know if he's influencing Kurt, but it feels good to hear that he makes Kurt happy. He must, if Burt notices. "I'm glad we're friends," he says. "I hated leaving my old school."

Burt nods. "Y'know," he says, after a moment. "When you're comfortable, you can tell Kurt. He won't judge you." Blaine must look uneasy at that, because he continues. "I know my son, he'll stick with you."

Blaine nods a little, knowing he can trust Kurt. Of course he can, especially in this.

Burt stands, giving Blaine's knee a pat. "You up for finishing breakfast, kid?"

"Yeah. I am," Blaine says, smiles and means it. "Thanks, Burt."

"Sure, kid."

----

When breakfast is ready, Blaine offers to go get Kurt.

"Why don't you take it up?" Burt says, throwing a bit of everything on a plate, "I gotta eat and run anyway, or my employees'll give me shit about bein' late."

The bedroom is still dim when Blaine returns. Kurt's sleeping soundly, he looks so peaceful that Blaine kind of hates to wake him. Still, he gently shakes a shoulder. "Kurt? Kurt, wake up…"

Kurt groans and doesn't move.

"Come on, I brought you breakfast. On a tray and everything, mon petit prince," Blaine teases.

Kurt opens his eyes halfway. "I didn't impregnate you last night, did I?" Blaine takes too long to reply and Kurt props himself up in alarm. "Oh god, I didn't do anything to you, did I?"

"Anything?" Blaine echoes. "Oh. No, no, you didn't." He composes himself and smiles. "Just get up before your food gets cold."

Kurt doesn't look convinced, but sits up primly, back resting against his pillows. "Shall you join me?"

"I shall," Blaine says, slipping into bed beside Kurt.

"This is good," Kurt says in the middle of eating. "You really made this?"

"Mmhm," Blaine hums around a bite of pancake. "Me and your dad."

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"I think I'm supposed to be mortified. He is my dad," Kurt says, eyebrow raised.

"I like him," Blaine says.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Please don't tell me he convinced you to come help in the shop."

"That didn't come up," Blaine says, laughing a little. "I told him you came to the IHop with a bunch of us after the dance and I ended up crashing here, by the way. Since I was in your kitchen at eight in the morning in your clothes."

"You make it sound so scandalous," Kurt says.

"We did sleep together."

"I hate you."

"You always say that," Blaine says. "But I know the truth."

Kurt is silent, chewing and blushing. Normally Blaine would tease him about it, except that it's making him blush. He stuffs his mouth with egg so he isn't expected to speak.

It's Kurt who finally says something. "I have no idea how we got back last night. I remember the club, mostly. And I think I sang to you. Which, embarrassing. Uh, sorry. If I like. Did anything inappropriate. It's not you," Kurt is quick to say. "When I drink, I get pretty loose. It's bad and I am suitably ashamed. I hope you can forgive me." He dares a sideways glance.

It's not you. Somehow, it's all Blaine hears. Sticks in his mind like a barbed hook.

Does he really expect Kurt to say it is him, though?

"Of course," Blaine says. "There's nothing to forgive. You danced with me, but that's about it." He looks down at his breakfast, pushing it around his plate with his fork. "You were, uh, making out with this guy..."

"I know. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Kurt says, and he sounds so sad that Blaine looks over.

"You don't make me uncomfortable," Blaine says with more ferocity than is appropriate. "I don't care that you're gay."

Kurt is looking at him, and Blaine can't read his expression.

"That guy is too old, though. It's like...illegal," Blaine says stupidly.

Kurt smiles. "It isn't like I have many options."

"That doesn't mean you have to settle for him!"

"And you don't have to settle for Rachel Berry," Kurt says, jabbing at his eggs and eating a bite.

"I'm not settling for Rachel Berry," Blaine protests.

Kurt turns to look at him. "Then why in the world would you date someone who wears butterfly knee socks? Why, Blaine? Did you know she's the president of the Craft Club? They had a fundraiser for new glue guns! They hold surprise locker bedazzlings! Do you know how long it took me to get a giant blinged-out Hello Kitty portrait off my locker door? You can still see the outline of a bow to this day."

Blaine frowns and tries to defend his friend, "I think she's sweet."

"Look," Kurt interjects with a sigh, "I just...get lonely, sometimes." He looks away, and Blaine desperately wants to touch him, make him look back over. "You wouldn't understand."

Blaine's fingers curl around Kurt's wrist before he even realizes his hand has moved. Kurt looks over, bewildered. "I just didn't want him to take advantage of you." And I was jealous.

"Blaine..."

"You're my best friend," Blaine says, tightening his grip.

Kurt doesn't say anything at first. "You're my best friend, too," he says, barely above a whisper.

Blaine knows, but it doesn't stop his chest from aching to hear it from Kurt's mouth.

----

Like a cut that doesn't hurt until looked at, now that Blaine realizes he likes Kurt he cannot stop thinking about him. It's like Attraction City, population: 1. Blaine Anderson.

He thought he'd liked girls before, but knows now that it was never real because nothing has ever felt like this. This all-consuming need to be around Kurt, the way his stomach flutters with every touch, the stupid, ridiculous daydreams his mind conjures up. The less ridiculous things his mind comes up with at night when he’s alone in bed.

Blaine's French grade is especially going to suffer, because during class Blaine gets distracted staring at the back of Kurt's head (or better yet, when Kurt will turn a little to look at something and Blaine can see his profile), and during their tutoring sessions Blaine gets distracted because Kurt's sitting so close, speaking so prettily in French.

Unfortunately, Kurt starts to notice.

“Des fois, j’aime porter des sous-v�tements pour femme."

Blaine repeats the phrase on autopilot, eliciting a huff of frustration and a pen smacked against the table.

"Blaine, are you even paying attention?"

"Huh?" Blaine blinks. "...Yes!"

"Really? What did I just say?" Kurt asks, looking pissy.

"Um." Blaine thinks back, but mostly all he remembers about the past twenty minutes is Kurt's mouth and the very soft dusting of freckles along his nose. They're so faint he wonders if Kurt even realizes they're there.

"Blaine."

"I don't know!" Blaine gives up. "Something about women?"

Kurt just shakes his head and closes his book. "Don't blame me when you fail the test."

"What? I'm not--"

"Blaine, for the past week you've been in your own world," Kurt says, cutting him off. "What's going on? Is this, like...is it Rachel?"

"Rachel?"

"Your girlfriend?," Kurt supplies, bite in his voice.

Rachel. She's kind of decided they're dating. She has him carry her books between classes, she sits next to him at lunch and they hold hands, and god, he hasn’t done a thing to discourage her, not really. He just…he doesn’t want to hurt her. He wants to keep this secret just a little while longer.

“No, it’s not her. I like someone else,” he blurts out, regretting it not two seconds later.

“What? Then why,” Kurt says, confused, before closing his mouth tight. When Blaine doesn’t immediately respond, he continues. “What the hell, Blaine. She looks at you like you’re the living embodiment of Adonis. Who else is there?”

You. The word is there in his mind, on the tip of his tongue. All he has to do is say it. One little word, three letters, one syllable.

“Finn,” Blaine says. It just comes out and he doesn’t know why, but now Kurt will know, that he’s gay, that—

But Kurt looks furious, and stands, slamming his books in a pile to leave. “You know what, screw you, Blaine.”

“What? I—”

“--You’re going to make fun of me for being gay, and you’re going to use the subject of my worst humiliation to do it? You can take this friendship and shove it—”

“No, Kurt,” Blaine says, standing, grabbing at Kurt’s wrist because he’s trying to leave. “What humiliation? I meant…I meant Rachel likes Finn. Rachel’s still in love with Finn. I think she’s just trying to distract herself with me, and—”

“You said you like someone.”

“I guess I just didn’t want to have to tell you Rachel’s personal business,” Blaine lies, feeling horrible, feeling a pit growing in his stomach, bigger and bigger. “I know how you can be about her.”

Kurt bristles and shakes Blaine’s hand off. “You’re not a very good liar, Blaine.”

Blaine’s face feels like Kurt just took a match to it, his stomach roiling.

Kurt’s voice, when it comes, is cold. “I was under the impression you trusted me. I think I was wrong.”

Blaine may very well throw up from the way Kurt is looking at him. “No—”

“Then you should break up with Rachel.” Kurt slings his backpack over his shoulder. “You should be honest with someone.”

It’s you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you. It pounds at his head, fills his mouth, won’t come out. He can’t.

“Kurt…”

But Kurt is already out the door.

----

“Rachel…”

They’re sitting together in the choir room before anyone’s due to show up. He thinks this is probably not a good place to do this, but Kurt was right. He’s being a terrible friend by stringing Rachel along, letting her believe something that is nothing but a lie for him to hide behind. He needs to do this now before it goes any further, and if he doesn’t get one burden off his shoulders he’s going to collapse from all of them.

“Yes, Blaine?” Rachel is staring up at him with such large, earnest eyes, all attention on him. God, he doesn’t want to do this, would give anything not to have to hurt another person with his carelessness.

He swallows. “I can’t be your boyfriend.”

Rachel’s expression doesn’t change. “Why not?”

Here goes. Blaine takes a breath, lets it out, but only feels dizzier for it. “I’m gay,” he says, wondering why his mouth chooses so well to work now, but won’t around Kurt.

Rachel does not look surprised, this is the first thing Blaine realizes. She looks downcast, but there’s no sign of shock in her expression. “Oh, Blaine,” she says, sadly. “I thought so.”

Blaine’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“Well, I couldn’t be sure, but,” Rachel says, needlessly smoothing down her skirt. “I thought so from the moment we met. You insisted otherwise, and you seemed as though you may have been interested in me, so I suppose I’d just hoped…”

“It’s—you can tell? I only just figured it out!” Blaine sputters, at a loss.

“I have two gay dads, Blaine. I’m kind of an expert,” Rachel says.

“Jesus…”

Rachel takes his hand, gives it a comforting squeeze. “It’s okay, Blaine. It is. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

Blaine’s face warms, and he just feels so stupid. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I didn’t want to hurt you, I do care about you. Please believe me, I just…I didn’t have the courage.”

Rachel draws him in and hugs him close, holds him. He feels guilty, he should be the one holding her. She’s stronger than he is, and so much sweeter, too. “You’ll be a very good boyfriend to someone, someday,” she eventually says.

They hold each other until the others start to trickle in. Blaine catches Finn looking their way with something like disappointment or disapproval on his face before he sits next to Quinn.

Rachel’s too good for Finn and him.

“Alright!” Mr. Schue breaks into their chatter. “Let’s talk about unrequited love!”

The entire glee club groans.

----

Blaine leaves Kurt a voicemail.

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I hope you’ll give me a chance to explain.”

He ends the message with a mash-up of Sweet And Tender Hooligan by The Smiths and So Sorry by Feist, playing the piano in accompaniment, until the beep cuts him off.

He means it in a funny way.

He means it in a serious way, too.

----

Rachel asked if he'd told anyone else, and Blaine admitted not really, only a few people (In reality, still only Burt). He may have even hinted that it was okay to tell and that he wanted to be open. Kurt wants him to be honest, so he will be honest in every way possible. He doesn’t want to hide, but he doesn’t want to make some big announcement, either.�So when Blaine joins the New Directions’ table at lunch the next day he isn’t entirely surprised by the pats on the back, the supportive smiles and gentle, teasing jibes. He’s glad he wasn’t wrong about them having his back, and relief floods through him, makes his eyes burn just a little. This is by far one of the scariest things he’s ever done.

Mercedes, Tina, and Rachel are debating which member of the club Blaine would be hottest with (“Mike; those abs, Blaine’s arms, can you just imagine?” “Finn, obviously! The height difference would be so romantic”) when Santana saunters over, a smirk on her face, her Cheerios skirt seemingly extra short.

“Hey there, Hottie McHobbit,” Santana all but purrs, running her fingers through Blaine’s hair, ruining the look he had carefully cultivated with so much gel. She drapes herself across his lap, arms winding around his neck. “A little birdie told me you’re confused.”

Blaine gapes.

“I thought I told you not to tell her,” Rachel hisses at Mercedes.

“I didn’t!” Mercedes insists.

“Then how?” Rachel asks.

They both look at Brittany, who’s smiling widely, a plastic spoon between her lips as she watches Santana. They groan.

“Um,” Blaine says.

“I’d just like to offer you my services,” Santana says, close to Blaine’s ear. “So you won’t be so confused anymore.”

“I wasn’t even aware you liked me, Santana,” Blaine says helplessly.

“Please. What does like have to do with anything?” she asks, running her hand up his arm. “Sure, my abuelo has a sharper sense of style, you’ve carved your hair into a helmet, and you’re kind of a loser, but I can work with it.”

“Thanks. I think.” Blaine moves her hand away. “As much as I appreciate your offer, I’m going to have to decline,” he says with absolute sincerity. Even if Santana isn’t the nicest person, and even if her motives are truly dubious, it never feels good to be rejected. “I’m gay.”

“You can’t know if you’ve never been with a girl,” Santana says, mouth a heavy smirk. "And Berry doesn't count."

“Well…you’ve never had sex with a girl, and you know you aren’t a lesbian, right?” Blaine tries. That elicits a reaction Blaine doesn’t expect, an angry clenching of teeth and narrowed eyes.

“Whatever, Blanderson,” she snaps, sliding off his lap. “You just turned down the best offer you’ll ever get. Have fun singing about getting some action, ‘cause it ain’t neva gonna happen.”

“Short guys have small dicks, anyway,” she calls over her shoulder, making her way over to Kurt’s table.

Kurt’s table, where Kurt is sitting and looking right at him.

Blaine doesn’t know what sort of facial expression he’s making, probably some form of mortification, but it doesn’t matter because Kurt looks away.

There’s no way Kurt could have heard anything from their table, he’s too far away. Still, if Santana knows he’s gay, their whole group will know, especially now that he rejected her. She’s bound to ridicule him. Blaine doesn’t want Kurt to find out about him this way and feels a small flutter of panic at the thought. God, why hadn't he told Kurt sooner? Why hadn't he told Kurt first? It was that stupid fight, and Blaine's own cowardice...

He pulls out his cell phone and texts Kurt. Meet me outside?

Blaine watches as Kurt checks his phone and glances his way. His reply comes a moment later. Where?�

Blaine texts Kurt to meet him under the bleachers, and leaves the lunch room, food untouched.

�

----

Kurt shows up about five minutes after Blaine, absently twirling a half empty bottle of lemonade. “Santana would kill to take your v-card,” he greets. “She loves virgins.”

It isn’t exactly the hello Blaine is expecting, and it takes him a moment to reply. “How do you know I’m a virgin?”

Kurt’s expression speaks for itself: bitch, please.

“Whatever,” Blaine says. “So are you.”

Kurt looks smug and leans back against one of the bleacher poles. Blaine’s mouth parts and jealousy burns a flare through his chest.

“Seriously?”

Kurt just smiles, but eventually rolls his eyes. “Yeah, obviously I am.”

Blaine’s heartbeat slows to normal. He has to remind himself that that doesn't matter, that wouldn't matter, he just-- ugh, what is wrong with him? Liking someone is the worst.

“So. Anyway.” Blaine’s words are coming out clipped, awkward. “Are we okay?”

“That song was awfully sweet,” Kurt teases. Blaine is trying very hard not to let how pleased he is to hear that show, even if Kurt is being sarcastic. “Yeah, we’re okay. I mean, really, it should be me apologizing. I overreacted. You aren’t obligated to tell me everything.”

“You know I wasn’t making fun of you, right?” Blaine asks, keeping his voice soft.

“I don’t understand why you said that,” Kurt replies, playing with the cap of his bottle and looking away from Blaine. “About Finn.”

“I was trying to tell you…I wanted to...”

Kurt waits, watching Blaine.

Blaine takes a deep breath. If he just doesn’t overthink it... “I think I’m gay,” he blurts out.

Kurt drops his lemonade bottle. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never wanted to have sex with a girl,” Blaine tries to explain, panicking, heart lodged painfully in his throat.

“That doesn’t mean you’re gay, that just means all the girls in Ohio are ugly.”

“But there’s this boy—”

Kurt looks so much paler than normal, which, to be honest, is a feat onto itself. “Oh god,” he’s saying. “You were serious about Finn. You were, weren’t you? Oh my god, Blaine, no. No, let me just break it to you now, Finn Hudson is straight. Painfully, decidedly straight. The straightest football player in all of McKinley.”

“How do you know?” Blaine asks, because there’s definitely something Kurt isn’t saying.

Kurt slumps down, crouching on the ground with his back pressed to one of the old couches that reside under the bleachers. ”Because,” he says, bitterness evident in just this one word, “once upon a time, I was in love with him.”

Blaine doesn’t hide his surprise, crouching down next to Kurt.

“It was eighth grade. We’d gone to different Elementary schools, but went to the same Jr. High. Back then I was…different. A little shy. Obviously I wasn’t like I am now.” Kurt rubs the back of his neck and gives up, sitting with a soft fwump. Blaine follows, their shoulders lightly bumping. “And he was just…god, you know. Tall, cute, a football player. He was so dopey, but in a charming way. I tried to get to know him, but he was friends with all the jocks and I was me. I was shorter back then, slightly chubby, as pale as ever, and of course I sounded like a girl. He and his friends liked to throw me in the dumpsters and throw my backpack into trees. Because, you probably won't believe me, but Finn was different back then, too. And I was a joke. But still, I had a stupid crush on him. I even joined the football team to try and get his attention.”

“You were on the football team?” Blaine doesn’t mean to interrupt, but he can’t picture it.

“For maybe a month, I was the kicker. It didn’t last,” Kurt says, glancing over. “Mostly because I tried to tell Finn I liked him. A few times, actually. He’s a little dense, and I was scared. In the end I’m not even sure if he realized, but…eventually I just stopped pretending, you know? He was straight and I didn’t have a chance. I think I’d kind of been lying to myself, I was fourteen and so hopeful. And god, older teammates, other football players, they harassed me even after I’d joined the team. It didn’t even matter that I was one of them. They’d shove me into things, and Finn would be right there, and he did nothing.”

Blaine takes one of Kurt's hands and holds it between his in a firm grip. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. He’s an idiot. He doesn’t deserve you, anyway.”

“I know,” Kurt says, haughtily, but Blaine can tell he’s using it to hide, to distract from being so open. Kurt hates to appear vulnerable, Blaine knows, and is grateful every time Kurt lets his guard down around him. “It’s been awhile, I’m over him. I’ve come to terms with being alone. I can wait.”

“You aren’t, though,” Blaine says, giving Kurt’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“I meant, like, in a relationship.” Kurt rolls his eyes, but smiles a little.

“Oh, well.” Blaine knows he’s blushing, and can’t seem to figure out what to say to that.

Kurt laughs, a quiet, breathy sound. “You’re so earnest. Where did you come from, Blaine Anderson? I mean, look, you’re even holding my hand like it’s normal.”

Blaine’s face falls and he tries to jerk his hand away. “Fine—”

“No,” Kurt says quickly, holding tight to his hand. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I just meant…” He shrugs and looks right at Blaine. “I didn’t know people like you existed.”

“Maybe because you never give them the chance,” Blaine says.

“No, Blaine,” Kurt says, and he sounds so serious. “It’s because there is no one like you.”

Blaine wants to kiss Kurt, right now. Wants to very badly, but he can’t seem to make himself move. His fingers tighten their hold on Kurt’s hand and he opens his mouth to say something, but someone cuts him off.

“Well, look at you two lovebirds,” comes a bored, female voice. “Move it, that’s my couch.”

Blaine looks up, mortified, and Kurt’s hand slips out of his.

“Whatever, Mack,” Kurt says, making himself sound just as bored as the girl, “taking a break from the truck stop?”

Kurt stands up, so Blaine stands up, too, trying to school his features into something neutral.

“It’s no fun during the day,” the girl, Mack, replies, lighting up a cigarette.

“Right, because then you actually have to see the beer bellies and receding hairlines,” Kurt says, starting to walk away. The girl doesn’t even reply, too distracted by smoking and staring at nothing, and Blaine chances a worried look at Kurt. He doesn’t care that they were caught for himself so much as for Kurt’s sake.

“Are you okay?” he asks once they’re out of earshot.

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” Kurt says, waving a dismissive hand. “Mack’s a Skank. They’re disenchanted loners. She won’t gossip, she probably doesn’t even know my name.”

Kurt turns to Blaine and leans up against the side of his truck. They seem to have wandered into the parking lot without Blaine noticing. “So, Blaine, I just made that all about myself. You were telling me some pretty big news, I’m sorry…”

Blaine glances around, but school’s still actually happening so there is no one else in the parking lot. “Uh.” He smiles shyly, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. Well. I pretty much said all that needs to be said.”

“You’re gay,” Kurt says.

Blaine looks back up and nods. “I’m gay.”

Kurt squints. “You’re sure? Like really sure?”

Blaine laughs a little, because it’s kind of ridiculous how sure he is. “Really sure. One hundred percent.”

Kurt looks thoughtful for a long moment and reaches out, hands on Blaine’s sleeves to tug him close. He hugs Blaine, and Blaine instinctively hugs back, tucking his face against Kurt’s neck.

“Kurt?”

Kurt pulls back with a smile, genuine and warm. “It’s just nice…not being the only one anymore.”

Blaine returns the smile. “You’ll have to teach me everything you know.”

Kurt laughs and unlocks his truck. “Come on, let’s skip and check out Barnes and Noble’s international fashion magazine section. You have a lot of catching up to do.”

�

----

“Your dad knows,” Blaine says, a spread of John Galliano’s latest collection open on his lap.

Kurt looks up from his own issue of L'uomo Vogue, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“I figured it out after homecoming. Rachel kissed me and I didn’t feel anything, and I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t like her like that, and—”

“Oh, Blaine, I can give you a hundred reasons.”

Blaine pulls a face. “Your dad helped me make breakfast, and I kind of broke down and told him.”

Kurt carefully turns the page of his magazine, studying it as though it holds all the answers of the universe. “Oh?” he asks, like it’s nothing. “And how did he react?”

“He was so nice, Kurt,” Blaine says, willing Kurt to look up. “He was so understanding, and said I was welcome over any time. That if I got into trouble I had a place at your house…he told me I should tell you. That you wouldn’t judge me.”

Kurt finally looks up, and there’s a rawness there Blaine hadn’t expected. “It’s different when it’s your son.”

“I don’t think so, Kurt,” Blaine murmurs. “I think he would be okay. I think he’ll love you no matter what—”

“Look, this is about you, not me,” Kurt says firmly. “I’m glad he accepted you.”

“I just think you’ll feel better if you tell him…”

“Blaine, drop it,” Kurt says, smacking the magazine closed. “I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” Blaine says gently, and reaches over to take Kurt’s hand.

Kurt jerks his hand away. “Can you stop doing that? It’s really gay.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow, and there’s a small moment of silence before they both burst out laughing.