z88;z88;As the video flickered to life my eyes, of their own accord, flickered to him. I smiled as I realized his posture was identical to mine, right down to the golden hazel eyes, peering sideways at me. He grinned back, his eyes seemingly glowing in the dark. I looked away before it became how obviously dizzy I was getting.

z88;z88;The hour seemed very long. I tried to concentrate on the movie but his hand holding mine under the table was sending electric currents throughout my body. Occasionally I would try to relax and permit myself a quick glance in his direction, but it was hard not to notice that he wasn’t entirely relaxed either. The overpowering craving to hold him also refused to fade so I settled by tracing circles around his palm with my thumb.

z88;z88;I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, stumbling a little as I stood. Blaine chuckled beside me.

z88;z88;"Did you enjoy the movie?" he asked. His voice was almost laughing at me in a sarcastic way.

z88;z88;"I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention," I said with a smirk.

z88;z88;"I’m not sure I was either. Shall we?" he asked, rising fluidly and holding out his hand again for me to hold.

z88;z88;He walked me to my next class in silence and paused at the door; I turned to say goodbye. His face startled me — his expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to hold him flared as strong as before. “I’ll see you later,” I whispered, biting my lip with anticipation.

z88;z88;He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm — like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

z88;z88;He placed a gentle kiss to my forehead and strode quickly away from me.

z88;z88;I walked into the gym, lightheaded and wobbly. I drifted to the locker-room, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that there were other people surrounding me.
Reality didn't fully set in until I was handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, but I almost dropped it. I could see a few of the other kids in class eyeing me furtively. Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.

z88;z88;In all protective sibling fashion, a feat to be admired mercifully, Finn came to rescue me, calling out my name.

z88;z88;"Did you want to play on our team?" he asked, showing me his hand to help me stand up from the bench.

"Thanks, Finn. I’m afraid I should warn you though – gym class is outside my natural range of abilities." I grimaced apologetically.

z88;z88;"Don't worry; I'll keep out of your way." He grinned. Sometimes it was so easy to like Finn.

z88;z88;It didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and whack Finn's shoulder, hard, on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind my back. Despite being handicapped by me, Finn was pretty good; he won three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.

z88;z88;"So," he said as we walked off the court.

z88;z88;"So…?" I repeated.

"You and Cullen, huh?" he asked, his tone a little warning, as if he was trying to save me from the big bad. I had to admit though, however unnecessary the question, the fact that he cared enough to say something ignited warm feelings inside me. I had never thought that losing Mom would mean I would gain a brother, and while I would never truly get over losing her, I was so grateful to be able to call Finn family.

z88;z88;"What about me and Blaine, Finn?" It had to be Rachel who had told him. Though I loved my almost brother I knew he wasn’t smart enough to work it out on his own.

z88;z88;"I don't like it," he muttered.

z88;z88;"You don't have to," I reminded him.

z88;z88;"He looks at you like… like you're something to eat," he continued, ignoring me.

z88;z88;A small giggle managed to get out despite my efforts. He glowered at me. “Look, I know it’s kinda obvious which way our parents our heading so, although I’m not your brother yet, I am going to look out for you whether you like it or not. And despite whatever hold he has on you, I’m worried about you, Kurt.”

It was so hard to be annoyed at him when he put it to me like that. “I appreciate it, Finn but I’m okay. However, if Blaine mistakes me for food I’ll be sure to ring you via speed dial.” I waved resigning to the locker room, Finn letting me go wordlessly.

z88;z88;I dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of my stomach, my conversation with Finn travelling fast to the back of my mind. I was wondering if Blaine would be waiting, or if I should meet him at his car. What if his family was there? Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?

z88;z88;By the time I walked out of the gym, I had just about decided to walk straight home without even looking toward the parking lot. But my worries were unnecessary. Blaine was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the gym, his breathtaking face untroubled now. As I walked to his side, I felt a peculiar sense of release.

z88;z88;"Hi," I breathed, smiling hugely.

z88;z88;"Hello." His answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?"

My face fell a tiny bit. "I’ll be surprised if Finn ever asks me to partner with him again," I told him honestly. “I may or may not have permanently injured his shoulder.”

z88;z88;Blaine’s eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking over behind me. I turned to glance what he was looking at and saw Finn walking with Rachel; he turned his head to wave at me and then resumed walking with her. I noticed Blaine was tense.

z88;z88;"What?" I demanded.

z88;z88;His eyes slid back to mine, still tight. "I don’t think Finn likes me very much."

"What’s given you that impression?" I asked confused.

He looked at me guiltily, "How's your head?" he asked innocently.

z88;z88;"Wha- Oh my God, you're unbelievable!" I realized making sense of what had just happened. He had chosen to listen in on my conversation in class. Again. Especially when he knew how I felt about him doing so. I turned to storm away but he kept up with me easily.

z88;z88;"You were the one who mentioned how I'd never seen you in Gym — it made me curious." He didn't sound repentant, so I ignored him.

z88;z88;We walked in silence — a furious, embarrassed silence on my part — to his car. But I had to stop a few steps away — a crowd of people, all boys, were surrounding it.

z88;z88;Then I realized they weren't surrounding the Volvo, they were actually circled around Rosalie's red convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes. None of them even looked up as Blaine slid between them to open his door. I climbed quickly in the passenger side, also unnoticed.

z88;z88;"What kind of car is that?" I asked.

z88;z88;"A BMW M3." He tried to reverse out without running over the car enthusiasts. I made a mental note to brag to Burt about the car.

z88;z88;"Are you still angry?" he asked as he carefully maneuvered his way out.

z88;z88;"Is Vogue still the best fashion magazine available?"

He sighed. "Will you forgive me if I apologize?"

"Maybe… if you mean it. And if you promise not to do it again," I insisted.

z88;z88;His eyes were suddenly shrewd. "How about if I mean it and I agree to let you drive Saturday?" he countered my conditions.

z88;z88;I considered, and decided it was probably the best offer I would get.

z88;z88;"Deal," I agreed.

z88;z88;"Then I'm very sorry I upset you." His eyes burned with sincerity for a protracted moment — playing havoc with the rhythm of my heart — and then turned playful. "And I'll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning."

"Um, I’m probably going to have to tell Dad we’re going out, especially if there’s an unexplained Volvo in his driveway."

His smile was condescending now. "I wasn't intending to bring a car."

"How —"

He cut me off. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car."

I let it go. He stopped the car. I looked up, surprised — of course we were already at Burt’s house, parked behind the truck. It was easier to ride with him if I only looked up when it was over. When I looked back at him, he was staring at me, measuring with his eyes.

z88;z88;"And you still want to know why you can't see me hunt?" He mumbled. He seemed solemn, but I thought I saw a trace of humor deep in his eyes.

z88;z88;"Well," I clarified, "I was mostly wondering about your reaction."

"Did I frighten you?" Yes, there was definitely humor there.

z88;z88;"No," I lied. He didn't buy it.

z88;z88;"I apologize for scaring you," he persisted with a slight smile, but then all evidence of teasing disappeared. "It was just the very thought of you being there… while we hunted." His jaw tightened.

z88;z88;"That would be bad?"

He spoke from between clenched teeth. "Extremely."

"Because… ?"

He took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

z88;z88;"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses… govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…" He shook his head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.
z88;z88;
I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing away.

z88;z88;But our eyes held, and the silence deepened — and changed. Flickers of the electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as he gazed unrelentingly into my eyes. It wasn't until my head started to swim that I realized I wasn't breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, he closed his eyes, circling his thumb just under my chin.
z88;z88;
"Kurt, I think it’s time you headed in now." His low voice was rough, his eyes on the clouds again.

z88;z88;I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear my head. I stepped carefully out of the car and shut the door behind me without looking back. The whir of the automatic window unrolling made me turn.
z88;z88;
"Oh, Kurt?" he called after me, his voice more even. He leaned toward the open window with a faint smile on his lips.

z88;z88;"Yes?"

"Did you forget something?"

"I don’t think so?" I said, my hand reaching for my jacket. I meant to ask him what he was talking about but he was out of the car and by my side before I could even open my mouth.

He took both his hands and held my face reaching for my lips with his own and pressing them against mine. I sighed and breathed into the kiss, losing my stability as I welcomed his tongue inside my mouth, already lost to all my senses. The aching need to hold him, which I had been internally hibernating stealthily all day, was suddenly ripe for harvest and my hands sprung out automatically to clutch at his sides and hold him tightly, our tongues working some weird dance, my senses going dangerously haywire now. I paused, having to catch my breath indignantly as I didn’t want to stop but he crooked a crazy evil smirk at me and I desperately threw myself at him again, feeling him laugh into the kiss, lazily moving his hand into my hair and when we finally did stop I stood there for the longest time just holding him, our bodies breathing in sync, although I was quite sure that he didn’t need to breathe at all.

And then he gazed one last time into my eyes before he was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around the corner before I could even collect my thoughts. I smiled as I walked to the house, desperately trying to regain my composure. It was clear he was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else and the thought drifted me into sleep.

z88;z88;That night Blaine starred in my dreams, as usual, shirtless and perfect. However, the climate of my unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged the afternoon only I awoke in the middle of the night to a very obvious arousal in the old grey sweats I had dared to wear to bed tonight. This in itself presented a problem.
I couldn’t ignore it and go to sleep because—well, it hurt. But I couldn’t touch myself there either, it didn’t really make me feel comfortable imagining such a thing and after the sticky mess of the backyard incident before I had sworn to never try such a thing again.

But Blaine was my boyfriend now and I just had to get used to these things being natural when I had a guy that meant male swimsuit catalogue models no longer had an effect on me.

It was only after I had let go of my inhibitions that I was finally able to let go. Reminding myself of how incredibly sexy he was, I was no longer embarrassed as I managed to slip my hand passed the waistband of my underwear and reach for my hardened cock. Groaning softly at the contact, I began stroking myself, feeling instant relief as I pictured his glorious face. I learned very quickly that I felt much better the faster I went as I did so and my hand began moving to a different rhythm to accommodate my desire for Blaine all on its own, faster and faster as I moved it up and down. My eyes were shut tight, it was much easier to picture him there that way, and my body shook with sheer pleasure as I imagined him touching me, and as I moaned his name welcomingly finishing myself off, I was finally relaxed and exhausted enough to peacefully drift back to sleep.

z88;z88;When I woke that morning I was still tired, but edgy as well as I moved promptly into the shower mentally cursing myself for letting the come dry off on my chest last night. I wasn’t used to it. I had episodes like last night before but I usually waited until I was in the shower to do anything about it and the men I had imagined in the past had always been nameless.

After blow-drying my hair I pulled on my brown turtleneck and a set of tight dark jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of a day where I could flaunt outfits out of my summer collection again. I hoped for breakfast to be a quiet event but Burt insisted he fry eggs for himself and I wasn’t down with what they did to his cholesterol levels, so I whipped him up some scrambled eggs instead following a recipe that would be better for his diet. I however, resigned to my bowl of cereal. I wondered if he had forgotten about this Saturday. He answered my unspoken question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.

z88;z88;"About this Saturday…" he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on the faucet.

z88;z88;I cringed, remembering what I had told Blaine yesterday and realizing now was as good a time as any to tell Burt. "Yes, Dad?"

"Are you still set on going to Seattle?" he asked.

z88;z88;"That was the plan." I grimaced. “Although there’s been a slight alteration.”

“Alteration?” He asked as he squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush.

“Blaine will be accompanying me.”

"Oh.” There was an awkward pause and then, “And you're sure you both can't make it back in time for the dance?"

"I'm not going to the dance, Dad." I said bluntly, “And while we’re on the subject, I don’t think Blaine is either.”

"Didn't he ask you?" he asked, trying to hide his concern by focusing on rinsing the plate.

I sidestepped the minefield. "It's a girl's choice."

"Oh." He repeated frowning as he dried his plate.

z88;z88;I sympathized with him. It must be a hard thing, to be a father; living in fear that your gay son would meet a boy he liked, but also having to worry if that boy broke your son’s heart. I shuddered, not ever wanting to meet Burt’s reaction if he ever found out what Blaine really was.
z88;
z88;Burt left then, with a goodbye wave, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and gather my books. When I heard his car pull away, I could only wait a few seconds before I had to peek out of my window. The silver car was already there, waiting in Burt's spot on the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and out the front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. I never wanted it to end.

z88;z88;He waited in the car, not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me without bothering to lock the dead-bolt. I walked to the car, pausing shyly before opening the door and stepping in. He was smiling, relaxed —and, as usual, perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree.

z88;z88;"Hey," he greeted, his voice was silky. "How was your morning?" His eyes roamed over my face, as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.

z88;z88;"It was good." I was always good — much more than good — when I was near him. “I told Burt about Saturday.”

z88;z88;His gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "Did he take it well? You look tired."

"Well Dad did want to know why we both weren’t going to the dance," I explained to him, “But I guess I look tired because I couldn’t sleep.” I wasn’t about to tell him what I had been doing up though.

z88;z88;"Don’t worry," he teased as he started the engine. “I didn’t get much sleep either.” I was becoming used to the quiet purr of the Volvo. I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me, whenever I got to drive it again.

z88;z88;I laughed. "I guess that's right. Do you even need to sleep?"

"It isn’t necessary. But it always feels better after I’ve rested at the very least. The others tend to sleep a lot easier than I do. I was on my own for a bit last night."

"What were you doing?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" My forehead creased. I couldn't imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting to him.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked.

"It changes from day to day."

"What's your favorite color today?" He asked smiling.

“I like a variety of colors at any given time. Matching however is essential.”

“Clashing is criminal,” he agreed, grinning.

We were already at the school. He turned back to me as he pulled into a parking space.

"What music is in your CD player right now?" he asked, his face as somber as if he'd asked for a murder confession.

“Wicked soundtrack,” I said without hesitation.

He flipped open a compartment under his car's CD player, pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space, and handed it to me, "So you like Menzel?"

I examined the familiar cover art, keeping my eyes down, as I smiled and pushed the CD into the device.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. While he walked me to English, when he met me after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he questioned me relentlessly about every
insignificant detail of my existence. Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and music — especially music.

z88;z88;I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much. More often than not, I felt self-conscious, certain I must be boring him. But the amount of interest he showed in everything I said motivated me to continue. I’d never had someone so interested in me before. Mostly his questions were easy, only a few making me blush. The few times he noticed the crimson in my cheeks however, brought on a whole new round of questions.

Like when he asked me what I had last dreamed about, and I blurted out “You,” before even thinking. He'd been flinging questions at me with such speed that I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer with the first word that comes to mind. My face reddened further because, lately my dreams of him had been of a more sexual nature and it was impossible, while staring back into his topaz eyes, not to remember this, especially after last night’s episode. And, naturally, he wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed.

"Tell me," he finally commanded after persuasion failed — failed only because I kept my eyes safely away from his face.

"Not now," I sighed, staring down at my hands as I fiddled aimlessly with my fingers. “It involves us sharing something intimate and private.”

Please, get it. I begged, Please for the love of all things GaGa just let this one go…

There was a slight pause as I saw him working it out via his facial expressions and then finally, “Oh,” was all he said, his mouth resting open at the thought. But then without any notice he blurted, “Kurt, did you have a sex dream about me?”

I instantly looked around the room and while no one was paying us any attention, the novelty of two boys getting cozy had obviously worn out; I still didn’t want anyone knowing about our business, “Blaine! You can’t just ask me things like that! I don’t want anyone else to know!”

“Why?” he pressed, “It’s only natural.” He bent low towards my ear whispering, “I bet half these boys are shamelessly thinking of you every night in their dreams anyway. I know I am”.

While I should have just melted into a puddle worthy of Elphaba right then and there I instead felt growing confidence instill within me. "I suppose that’s something we’re just going to have to work through together,” I answered, smiling coyly and surprised at my own daring to say something so sexy. Damn you, Carrie Bradshaw.

Finn was right. Blaine did look like he wanted to devour me. But not in a way that was going to harm me. "So what kinds of flowers do you prefer?" he asked, his voice slightly going higher as he noticeably crossed his legs together under the table.

Biology was a complication again. Blaine had continued with his quizzing up until Mr. Banner entered the room, dragging the audiovisual frame again. As the teacher approached the light switch, instead of reaching for my hand, Blaine placed it on my thigh instead. It didn't help. As soon as the room was dark, there was the same electric spark, the same restless craving to hold him tightly, except this time all I could think about was what would happen if his hand went further south.

I didn't look at him, afraid that if he was looking at me, it would only make self-control that much harder. I sincerely tried to watch the movie, but at the end of the hour I had no idea what I'd just seen. I sighed in relief again when Mr. Banner turned the lights on. I finally glanced at Blaine; he was looking at me, his eyes ambivalent.

He rose in silence and then stood still, waiting for me. We walked toward the gym in silence, like yesterday. And, also like yesterday, he touched my face wordlessly — this time with the back of his cool hand, stroking once from my temple to my jaw — but this time reaching for my lips to kiss me in the hallway before he turned and walked away.

Gym passed quickly as I watched Finn's one-man badminton show. We talked again about our parents; he mentioned something about Carole talking about rings and Rachel wanting to go shop with her, but there was no more talk of Blaine. Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, I wanted him to say something again. But I couldn't concentrate on that.

I hurried to change afterward, knowing the faster I moved, the sooner I would be with Blaine. The pressure made me more clumsy than usual, but eventually I made it out the door, feeling the way I only could when I was around him, when I saw him standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across my face. He smiled in reaction before launching into more cross-examination questions.

His questions were different now, though, not as easily answered. He wanted to know what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything he wasn't familiar with. We sat in front of Burt's house for hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around us in a sudden deluge.

I tried to describe what I missed about summer and Ohio — like the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, cloudless skies, the convenience of the Lima Bean and why it was everyone’s go to caf�. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me — to justify a beauty that didn't depend on dead skeleton branches that looked like Mary-Kate Olsen on a bad day, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, and being able to bask in the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to him.

His quiet questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation. Heaven forbid, I become like Rachel.
Finally, when I had finished detailing my forgotten summer wardrobe room at home, he paused instead of responding with another question.

"Are you finished?" I asked in relief.

"Not even close — but your father will be home soon."

"Burt!" I suddenly recalled his existence, and sighed. I looked out at the rain-darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" I wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time— Burt would be driving home now.

"It's twilight," Blaine murmured, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. His voice was thoughtful, as if his mind were somewhere far away. I stared at him as he gazed unseeingly out the windshield.

I was still staring when his eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us," he said, answering the unspoken question in my eyes. "The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way…the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?" He smiled wistfully.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." I frowned. "Not that you see them here much." He laughed, and the mood abruptly lightened.

"Burt will be here in a few minutes. I’m glad you told him I’ll be with you on Saturday…"

"I’m glad I told him too." I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from sitting still so long. "So is it my turn tomorrow, then? For questions?"

"Certainly not!" His face was teasingly outraged. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"

"Really? What more is there?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." He leaned across to kiss me goodbye but he suddenly froze.

"What is it?" I was surprised to see that his jaw was clenched, his eyes disturbed.

He glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," he said glumly.

He flung the door open for me in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me. The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a dark car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us.

"Burt's around the corner," he warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle. I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The rain was louder as it glanced off my jacket. I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too dark. I could see Blaine illuminated in the glare of the new car's headlights; he was still staring ahead, his gaze locked on something or someone I couldn't see. His expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance. Then he revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

"Hey, Kurt," called a familiar, husky voice from the driver's side of the little black car.

"Dave?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Burt's car swung around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.

Dave was already climbing out, his wide grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat was a much older man; he wore glasses and clothes that looked as though his mom had sewn him which made him look even older despite his expensive leather jacket. His eyes were surprisingly familiar, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. Dave's father, Artie Black. I knew him immediately, though in the more than five years since I'd seen him last I'd managed to forget his name when Burt had spoken of him my first day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes were wide, as if in shock or fear, his nostrils flared. My smile faded.

Another complication, Blaine had said.

Artie still stared at me with intense, anxious eyes. I groaned internally. Had Artie recognized Blaine so easily? Could he really believe the impossible legends his son had scoffed at?

The answer was clear in Artie's eyes.

Yes. Yes, he could.