They stumble into Blaine's room like teenagers unable to keep their hands off each other, Kurt pressing Blaine hard against the door as he kisses up his neck, dragging his tongue and teeth as he goes. Blaine moans, grabs at Kurt's hair, and asks, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Kurt kisses Blaine properly, hard and deep, and walks them over toward the bed, straddling Blaine's hips when he pushes him down. "I'm so ready," Kurt breathes. He runs his hand down Blaine's chest, sits back and begins to unbutton his shirt. "I want to fuck you, Blaine, god, so badly."

Blaine shivers, grabs at Kurt's shoulders and pulls him down into another kiss. A hand slides down Kurt's back, grabs his ass, and he stutters forward, gasping. He kisses Blaine, slick-sliding lips and curious tongue, and Blaine wraps his legs around Kurt's waist, pulls him close, and whispers in his ear, "I like it rough."

"Fuck," Kurt whines, dropping his head to press in the curve of Blaine's neck. He isn't prepared for the hot thrill that surges like lightning through him. "You can't just say things like that, Blaine."

"Hmm, like what?" Blaine teases, innocent as he pushes up, rubs against Kurt and makes him jolt, gasp and push back for more. "You don't want me telling you what turns me on, baby?"

"God, no, I do," Kurt says, and he kisses Blaine, wet and sloppy, grabbing onto the sheets with one hand, Blaine's thigh with the other. He feels the flex of strong muscle under his hand, and he wants Blaine out of his clothes now. He nips at Blaine's lower lip, sucks it into his mouth and draws back slightly before letting go with a soft slap, and Blaine inhales, sharp, and threads his fingers tight into Kurt's hair before kissing him again. One of those hands strays to Kurt's lower back, grabbing at his shirt and tugging it out of his pants as he bunches up the fabric in his fist, drags his knuckles and nails over the exposed skin of Kurt's back. Kurt's breath, his hips, stutter, and he moans into Blaine's mouth. "Just..."

Blaine shushes him, nods in understanding, and says, "Nervous?"

Kurt hesitates only for a moment before finally nodding, his brows creasing together in embarrassment. He feels empowered, being in control of Blaine this, but it's also terrifying. Kurt really has no idea what he's doing, if he wants to be honest, which he is being, and painfully so. Blaine is hard beneath him, and he wants Kurt to fuck him, and oh god, he's going to start freaking out any second now at the thought of being so in-control of someone else's pleasure—

"Hey, it's okay," Blaine says, soft, reassuring. He runs the back of his hand over Kurt's cheek, smiles lovingly up at him with bright eyes, slick red lips. "If you want, I can take control."

Kurt shakes his head. He's determined to make this as good for Blaine as Blaine had made it for him. "No, I'll—"

Blaine leans up on his elbows, and Kurt rears back in surprise until the firm pressure of Blaine's hand on the back of his head reels him back in. Blaine's tongue is warm and slippery where it slides across his lips, rubs against his own, and Blaine is husky, breathless, when he pulls back and whispers, "Let me ride you."

Kurt closes his eyes and moans, knee-jerk, and lets his body succumb to a shiver at the thought. He hears Blaine's chuckle and opens his eyes slowly, like a newborn coming into the world, and takes in the sight of Blaine under him, so willing, so trusting and ready, and, suddenly, the nervousness dissipates, replaced with unrelenting want. He wants to do this, wants to make Blaine fall apart. He wants to prove to himself, to Blaine, that despite their age difference, despite his almost complete lack of experience, he can.

"Yes." Kurt kisses Blaine, then grabs at the hem of Blaine's shirt, pushing it impatiently up to feel warm skin underneath, tensed tight with muscle. Blaine sits up and Kurt sits back, resting on Blaine's thighs and watching as Blaine grabs onto the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head, tossing it off to the side. Kurt lets him take care of his own, shuddering at first when Blaine's fingers brush his skin, then when the cooler air of the room rushes over his bare chest.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Blaine says, and it's rough, in awe. His eyes narrow slightly, dark and intent, and before Kurt can breath or even reply back Blaine's leaning forward, rubbing a hand over Kurt's chest as he licks broad over a nipple. Kurt arches, jerking, and moans, grabbing onto Blaine's hair as tongue turns into teeth, then the hot suction of lips.

"Blaine," Kurt gasps, pressing his chest forward as Blaine moves to the other nipple, palm sliding over his side now, down to the waistband of his jeans. There is no sound in the room other than Kurt's harsh breathing, the slick sound of Blaine's mouth as he licks and sucks over Kurt's nipple, and Kurt tips his head back, tugging at Blaine's hair until he finally pulls back, slowly opening his eyes.

"Let me suck you," Kurt says, and he doesn't even know he's saying it at first, wrapped up in the moment and let-loose, uncaring, focusing on that look on Blaine's face, how he wants to keep it there. There's a moment's pause, then Blaine nods, dropping back to his elbows and breathing out unevenly. Kurt carefully gets up and Blaine spreads his legs, giving Kurt room to settle between.

Kurt lets himself stare before he does anything, takes in the rise and fall of Blaine's abdomen, the dark line of hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans, the rise in the denim that Kurt knows will he hard and hot when he finally touches it. He lets himself realize, for those few silent seconds, that this is all his to take. He reaches forward, and his hands give the finest of trembles as they close around the cool metal of the button. He slips it through the flap, and a hint of white teases him from between, stamped with a stretched black 'A.' The zipper goes slowly, each snick of its teeth loud, final, echoing, until it can go no more, and the flaps of Blaine's jeans fall open, inviting.

Blaine lifts his hips before Kurt can even ask, and he's careful in tugging down his jeans, pushing them lower until they can go no further, and he sucks in a breath. Blaine's cock is straining desperately, thick and dressed left, against the thin white cotton of his Armani briefs.

"Jesus." Kurt exhales it, little more than rhythmic air with syllables, and he touches, cups his hand around the shape and fits his fingers the best he can, stroking once, twice, enough to make Blaine let out a breathy groan and drop his head back to the pillows.

"Kurt," Blaine says, and it's strained. He drapes an arm across his eyes before sitting up, like he's too impatient to keep still. "Please."

His fingers slip under the waistband, fit around the girth of Blaine's cock, and Kurt draws him out, feeling the pulse of life under his hand, the soft skin that yields so easily over the hardness underneath. Blaine is damp and slick, wonderfully hot against Kurt's cool, clammy skin, and he drops to his elbows, thumbing over the head once before dropping his mouth open and sinking down.

He can feel the need for Blaine's body to arch up as he wraps his lips around the head and sucks, but Blaine grips hard onto the sheets instead, moans and digs his heels into the mattress. Kurt knows that Blaine's probably had better, and even as he sinks down and slides back up, sucking with an obscene noise that makes his cheeks heat up, he's checking himself, wondering how well he's doing.

Blaine's hand comes to the back of his head, fitting around his skull and holding him there. Kurt wraps a hand around the base of Blaine's cock before working him slowly with twisting strokes that are slickened by the glaze of his saliva. Each moan, each breathy plea of Kurt's name, sends hot pulses through Kurt's body, and as his jaw begins to get sore, as a fresh burst of pre-come paints bitter on his tongue, he drags his hips along the bed, desperate for something.

"Fuck, so good," Blaine gasps, and Kurt opens his eyes, looks up Blaine's body to see him arched taut, head tossed back and the underside of his jaw in stark relief. The faint gleam of sweat slicks his chest, and the muscles under his skin jump as Kurt sucks a little harder, a little longer, and bobs his head in earnest now, spurred on by the unexpected praise.

Blaine's moans eventually turn breathy, then high-pitched, and he finally grabs onto Kurt's hair, tugs him away, and Kurt goes, albeit reluctantly, with a wet noise and a strand of pre-come stringing to his lips. Blaine stares, eyes wide, before he says, slow like his mind is trying to catch up with everything, "Um. I was gonna come, and I kind of still want you to fuck me."

Kurt bats away the strand, nods, and says, "So...?"

Blaine is on him quickly, flipping their positions as he shimmies off his jeans and underwear, then works on Kurt's. Kurt still feels a flashing moment's fear when he's naked, but Blaine kisses him, grips his cock in a sure grip and strokes until Kurt's arching off the bed and grabbing onto Blaine's bicep, onto twitching muscle as it works and Blaine laughs against the soft skin of his neck. "I love when you're eager. Watching you fall apart for me is so amazing."

He leans over and opens his bedside drawer, pulling out the bottle of lube and a condom. He drops the condom to the bed, and when Kurt tries to reach for the lube he smiles, holds it out of reach and splays his palm broad over Kurt's chest to keep him down. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna prepare myself for you."

Kurt swallows, widens his eyes, and feels his cock twitch as Blaine straddles his hips, his own cock swaying with the movement. There's the click of the bottle, and once Blaine has three fingers slick and glistening in the soft light of the bedside lamp he's arching slightly forward, moving his hand behind himself. Kurt doesn't look away, isn't even sure if he blinks, until he knows Blaine's slid he first finger in when his brows pinch, crease, and his mouth drops open slightly. There's the faintly sharp inhale of air, then a sighing relief as Blaine's eyes slip closed and his arm begins to flex.

Blaine looks younger like this, somehow, beautiful as he loses himself to his own pleasure, the lines smoothed to lax bliss as two go in, then three and Blaine is moaning, grunting as he drops his chin to his chest and presses back, arching his body. Kurt doesn't touch himself, too afraid that he'll come before he can get the condom opened, but he does stroke a hand down Blaine's thigh, over scratchy hair and smooth skin. Words build up on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't speak them, unsure if it's okay, to say the things he's thinking to Blaine, and figures that there will be plenty of other times to work them in and become more comfortable.

Blaine pushes onto his own fingers, and Kurt watches as his body goes tauter than before, and the cry that escapes his lips is louder. He keens as he twists his fingers, and his eyes are wild when he lifts his head to stare at Kurt. He slides his fingers free, grabs for the condom and fumbles in ripping it open. He's quick to slide it onto Kurt, and even quicker to slick him up with lube. He slows when he scoots forward, grabbing onto the headboard with one hand, the base of Kurt's cock with the other. Kurt feels the gradual give of Blaine's hole before Blaine sinks down, head tossed back as he drops inch by inch until his ass is flush to Kurt's hips.

And that's it. Kurt's inside him, Blaine trembling on his lap with a white-knuckled grip on the headboard, the other fallen to Kurt's chest to keep his balance.

Blaine looks like he's in another world, bracketing Kurt's torso with his thighs, eyes still closed and head still tipped back. It's another moment before he opens them, looks down and smiles. His tongue darts out, a pink flash, to wet his lips, and his voice is a little hoarser as he says, "Fuck, you're so big."

Kurt, sprawled out and vulnerable, trapped beneath the heavy weight of Blaine's body, covers his face with his hands and giggles, tugging Blaine down to kiss him. "You're ridiculous."

Blaine smirks, raises up on his knees and sinks back down, and Kurt groans at the tight, sliding squeeze, his hips arcing instinctively up into it. He lowers his hand from the headboard and drops it, too, to Kurt's chest, pressing in as he swivels his hips, grinding forward, then backward, and clenching rhythmically until Kurt's moaning helplessly, wanting to flip their positions and make Blaine take but knowing that he can't.

"Just telling the truth," Blaine says as he lifts up and fucks back down, hard and fast so their skin slaps together. "Oh—fucks me so good, too, baby, uh, just like that."

Kurt's hands fall to Blaine's hips, and there he holds, pressing his heels into the mattress and bending his legs at the knees as Blaine works himself, hard and fast, over and over. His nails dig into Kurt's chest, cock bobbing between them, hot where it slides over Kurt's skin, and this is nothing like last time; it's not better, but it's different enough, new sensations that Kurt has to get used to, and watching every second of Blaine's pleasure, the way his jaw drops when Kurt's cock brushes that spot inside him, when Kurt finally wraps a hand around his cock and jerks him in hard and fast imitations of Blaine's hips and Blaine keens, whimpering and whining and begging for more, harder, is breathtaking.

And when Blaine comes, hips working, grinding, body twisting and arching as he comes in hot splashes of white over Kurt's hand and arm and torso, Kurt wonders what he did right to deserve this. He comes when Blaine bends down and kisses him, breathless and sweaty and sloppy with too much tongue and saliva to really be called a kiss, and he whimpers through it into Blaine's mouth, hips jerking up minutely against the firm press of Blaine's ass.

"So that's what riding is like," Kurt says when they part and Blaine's slid off. He gets up on his elbow to slide off the condom, tying it off and carefully wrapping it up in the tissue offered by Blaine to clean up his arm and chest.

"Killer on the thighs, but do it enough and they'll look like mine," Blaine teases, winking, and Kurt smacks his arm with a laugh.

----

"So my dad and Carole come in at nine tomorrow morning," Kurt says, rushing around the apartment. Blaine sits on one of Kurt's antique kitchen chairs, watching amusedly as Kurt picks up dirty dishes and magazines, straightening and re-straightening everything under, when Blaine can't take any more, he stands up and tugs Kurt in for a fast, hard kiss. Kurt immediately relaxes into the familiarity, clutching at the back of Blaine's cardigan as he closes his eyes, tilts his head and lets their lips slide together. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Blaine soothes, rubbing at the back of Kurt's neck. His glasses are on today, and Kurt can't stop staring at the way they make Blaine look—he'd say older, but Blaine already is older, so he'll go with sexy and sophisticated. Kurt doesn't want to dig his fingers out of Blaine's ivory cashmere sweater, but he does so reluctantly, biting his lip and taking a few deep yoga breaths. "Just don't kill yourself, either. It's your dad. It's not like he's never seen you before."

"I know, but..." Kurt trails off, sighs in frustration, and looks around. "I'm just nervous, you know? He's going to be meeting you, which is terrifying enough in theory, and I want him to know that I'm doing okay, that New York isn't slowly killing me or anything."

"Everyone at vogue.com loves you. You get along well with your roommate, and so far you haven't done anything too stupid—besides maybe taking a chance on me."

Kurt rolls his eyes, tugs Blaine back in for another kiss, breathing in deep Blaine's familiar spice-and-sweet. "I'll never regret taking a chance on you, Blaine. You know that."

"And I'll tease you for it relentlessly still. People might think I'm the senile one because of my premature frown lines, but—"

"Kurt, where did you say your parents are staying at again?"

Rachel's voice floats from the back of the loft before Kurt can answer, and he gives Blaine an apologetic glance before turning to look at where Rachel is walking toward them. "One of the hotels a few blocks away? I can't remember which. Dad said they were getting a taxi from the airport."

"Roy can pick them up," Blaine says suddenly, and both Kurt and Rachel turn to look at him, eyebrows raised identically. "What?"

"My dad's not going to like that you're sending someone to pick him up," Kurt warns, because Burt won't, he can already tell. Having his son's boyfriend—who's already only just shy of ten years younger than Burt himself—have a personal driver to pick them up might ring as a bit too ostentatious for Burt, who's always prided himself on his humbleness and has firmly instilled it into Kurt his whole life.

"It'll be so much easier than having them get a taxi," Blaine says. "And cheaper."

"Kurt's right," Rachel says slowly, looking like the last thing she wants to do is crush Blaine's dreams. "I mean, it's a lovely idea and all, and I'm sure they'd appreciate the offer..."

"Nonsense." Blaine waves their worries away, pulling out his phone and quickly thumbing out a text. Kurt sighs, shaking his head as the light of the screen reflects onto the lenses in Blaine's glasses. "Roy will be there after their flight lands tomorrow."

"If you're trying to score points with my dad, that's not how you do it," Kurt warns, but pulls out his phone all the same and texts Burt the change in plans.

"Kurt, I have a driver so that I, or anyone affiliated with me, doesn't have to take a taxi everywhere. Your parents are included in that, okay?" Blaine looks at Kurt, and it's almost pleading. It makes Kurt's heart clench, twist, and he finds himself nodding, smiling softly. He knows what Blaine wants to say, what he isn't saying because Rachel is in the room, and Kurt accepts that, he does. He just hopes that his dad will be able to as well.

----

Kurt's been staring daggers for the last ten minutes at the clock mounted on the kitchen wall. He's already on his third cup of coffee, this one by now gone cold where it's clutched in his hands, and he doesn't even bat an eye as Rachel takes a seat next to him.

"I don't think I've been this nervous since my first date with Blaine," he confesses, turning to look at her.

Rachel rests her hand gently on his and gives him a sympathetic look. "It'll be fine."

"It's nearly eleven and they still aren't here."

"Maybe their flight was delayed."

"Or maybe they got so pissed at Blaine having his driver pick them up that they took a cab themselves and got lost." Kurt scrubs his hand over his face. "Why did I let Blaine do this?"

"Because you love him and he cares very deeply about not getting killed by your dad," Rachel replies simply, and there's a teasing hint of a smile at the corners of her lips as she says it, something contagious enough that when Kurt side-eyes her he feels his own lips twitching skywards.

"He's going to kill him doubly now," he says, standing up and dumping out the cold coffee in the sink. "I already know what he's going to say: pretentious and unnecessary."

There's a knock at the door, and Rachel calls out come in as Kurt's stomach knots uncomfortably. There's an equal mixture of excitement at seeing his dad and Carole and dread that tonight's dinner isn't going to go over well at all now because of the car fiasco.

The door creaks and groans as it slides open, and just seeing his dad there, Carole at his side and their hands full of luggage, makes the knot loosen itself a bit, and he says, happily, "Dad! Carole!" before rushing over towards them.

Burt still smells like always, the same cologne Elizabeth used to buy him when she was alive and the faint tang of motor oil, today mixed with the stuffy scent of airplane. Carole hugs him tightly, sweet-smelling as always, and when they pull back there are the faint tears of pride in her eyes as she takes in the loft, Kurt's clothes, half of which have been presented to him by Blaine at some point, a detail he's definitely not going to mention at all.

"Was the flight okay?" Kurt asks anxiously.

"The flight was fine," Burt says as he sets his luggage down. He looks back toward the door, and Kurt watches his forehead crease under the brim of his cap. "The driver out there said he'd wait to take us back to the hotel in an hour when we can check in."

Kurt tries to gauge Burt's reaction, but there is none and he says, carefully, "So I see you met Roy."

"Oh, he's lovely," Carole chirps, and Kurt just barely resists throwing his arms around her in relief. He's known this whole time that Carole is more easily won over by charm, and he's never been more thankful for it than he has been in this moment.

"You didn't tell me that Blaine has a driver," Burt says, and Carole nudges him with her elbow. Rachel slinks out of the room to resurface later when they're getting ready to leave.

"I didn't think it was necessary. I swear I didn't know he was going to ask Roy to pick you guys up. I told him not to."

Burt doesn't answer right away, looking around silently instead. He sounds reluctant when he says, "It did save us some money."

Then adds, quick like he'd noticed how soft he was getting, "But it's still pretentious and unnecessary."

From across the apartment he can hear Rachel laugh, and he fights back his own smile as he stares at his shoes, then at his father, and feels happy for reasons he can't even begin to voice. He turns to Carole. "While we wait, do you want me to show you around, Carole? I have a few interior design ideas I'd love to run by you first."

----

Blaine shows up an hour and a half before their dinner reservation. Kurt feels like he's slowly suffocating as he finishes tying his tie, and it doesn't help that Blaine has on a suit, well-tailored and darkest blue and god, Kurt wants that suit to be lying on the floor next to his bed right now, not still on Blaine's body as he meets Kurt's parents for the first time.

"It'll go great," Rachel says as she greets Blaine with a hug. She gives Blaine that smitten-schoolgirl smile and adds, "Blaine's a charming guy."

"Blaine's a gay guy," Kurt says. "And taken—by me—so stop trying to flirt."

"Oh, Kurt, loosen up."

"Excuse me." Kurt blinks coolly at her, feeling anger begin to warm and rise. It isn't much, and he isn't really mad at her, but he's stressing and on-edge and maybe he shouldn't be this nervous, but family is all Kurt pretty much has, and having his not like his boyfriend would be devastating. "When was the last time you brought your forty-year-old boyfriend to meet your dads?"

Rachel backs off, disappearing from the room as Blaine tugs Kurt close, smiles against his cheek where he kisses it. He laughs when Kurt huffs. "It's not funny. I really want my dad to like you."

"I know, I know." Blaine kisses him, then checks the time with the Rolex Kurt didn't know he owned. "We need to get going, honey, if we're gonna make our reservation."

Kurt's surprised to see that Roy isn't driving a Town Car tonight, and says, of the Range Rover, "Well, this is new."

Blaine opens the back door like always, letting Kurt in before climbing in on his side and saying, "The Town Car isn't equipped for so many people. We're just borrowing this for the night."

Kurt runs his hands over the soft brown leather, the installed mini-fridge across the aisle. "My dad's really gonna hate this."

When they pick up Burt and Carole from the hotel, Burt doesn't say anything as he climbs in across from Kurt and Blaine, but Carole oohs over the fridge and the seats, and immediately she's reaching across for Blaine's hand, which he gives to her in surprise. "It's so nice to meet you, Blaine. I'm Carole."

Burt is a bit more slow and reluctant, and he purses his lips as Blaine shakes his hand, firm and businesslike. "Sir," Blaine says, and Kurt shivers at the authoritative tone in Blaine's voice. It makes it deep and commanding and Kurt finds himself wanting to hear it more.

"Burt," Burt finally introduces, gruff and short, and as they pull away he eyes Blaine up slowly, calculating. He looks around. "This is...different than what we had yesterday."

"The other car wasn't big enough for all of us," Blaine says, and immediately he winces, as well as Kurt. Luckily Burt doesn't comment, and instead the drive to the restaurant is spent with Carole asking Blaine questions about his work, and once Burt finds out how hard Blaine had worked to get where he is today he seems to loosen up and relax, slipping more easily into the conversations.

Just before they get there, Burt turns to Blaine and says, "I want to ask you some questions."

Blaine stiffens, but his face remains as calm and relaxed as ever. "Fire away," he says, goes for easy and it comes off as mostly that, and also a little bit strained.

"When were you born?"

Blaine's eyes widen, and he glances over at Kurt for a moment before answering, levelly, "'73."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Dalton Academy for Boys in Westerville, Ohio. Graduated with top honors. I was even in their glee club."

Kurt perks up. This is new. He wonders why Blaine hasn't told him, but he figures he'll ask that later, when it's just them. Burt ends the questions only when Roy pulls up to the curb and Blaine says, relieved, that they're here.

Their booth is in the back, lit with the soft ambience of a single votive candle. Kurt presses close to Blaine, Burt presses close to Carole, and Kurt doesn't miss their jaws dropping in surprise at the menu and the tiny black numbers next to each item.

"This is...a little expensive, honey," Carole says to Kurt, but means to Blaine.

"Yeah." Kurt looks over suspiciously, sees that Blaine is biting his lower lip and looking at the menu. "This is a little expensive, honey."

"I figured...I could pay for everyone's meals," Blaine says sheepishly, and he furrows his brows as he looks up, seeks acceptance.

"No," Burt says immediately, and Kurt hisses "Dad" as he does.

"That's very generous of you, Blaine," Carole says, "but—"

"We can pay," Burt finishes.

Blaine looks crestfallen, and Kurt takes his hand where it rests on the table, threading their fingers together and pressing a quick kiss to Blaine's jaw in a silent I'm sorry. "I told you my dad was a hard sell," he whispers.

Blaine just shrugs, sighs and smiles, and by the time drinks are ordered and cocktails are served out, the mood lifts slightly. Kurt catches his dad glancing every now and then at his and Blaine's entwined hands on the table, and he feels the lingering heat of his gaze when he and Blaine turn to each other to whisper something or laugh about a joke.

"How are things going at home?" Kurt asks, swirling his straw in his iced tea idly.

Burt takes a sip of his beer—he and Blaine had gotten the same kind, which makes Kurt want to laugh, for some reason—and smiles as he says, "Great. And Finn is taking over the glee club pretty well, from what I've heard."

"Your stepbrother teaches glee club?" Blaine says. "I didn't know that."

"He's great at it," Burt says before Kurt can answer, and there's a proud set to his chin. "From what I've heard, at least. He's not around much anymore, always too busy. Except when he finds time to sit down and watch the Buckeyes with me."

"I love the Buckeyes!" Blaine's face immediately lights up, and he works his and from Kurt's as he leans forward onto the table. Kurt meets Carole's eyes and rolls his, shaking his head as she laughs and shakes hers, too.

"Men and their sports," she says fondly.

Blaine and Burt talk about football and basketball and don't spare them a second glance until the food comes and they begin to eat. Blaine nudges Kurt with his shoulder, leans over and kisses Kurt softly, short, on the lips, and Kurt smiles into it, rubbing his hand over Blaine's thigh before picking up his fork. He startles for only a second when the warm weight of Blaine's hand finds his thigh a moment later.

The conversation is easier once they begin eating, and Kurt looks gratefully from his father to Blaine as Burt seems to warm up more and more to Blaine either each new topic they broach. They'd experienced similar things growing up, and had almost the same opinions about past presidents, and it makes Kurt feel incredibly young, hearing this. He'll never have that with Blaine, and while he knows that it's not really something to be bothered by, he still can't help it.

They skip dessert, Kurt saying that they can have coffee back at the apartment—he'd gone out and bought some of the good stuff for once, and he'd made carrot cake. The bill comes and Burt and Blaine fight over it for a moment before Blaine ultimately wins, much to a sullen-looking Burt's chagrin.

Kurt feels a little helpless as he watches Blaine pull out his black AmEx and slip it into the small plastic sleeve, and though he tries to push it to the back of his mind as they leave and get back into the Range Rover, he can't quite seem to.

----

When they get back to the apartment (Rachel had left a note saying she'd be at Brody's, and Kurt scrunches up his nose in distaste—when will she ever learn that he's no good?) Kurt disappears into the kitchen to cut the cake and begin brewing the coffee. Carole appears a few minutes later, asking Kurt where the mugs are and pulling them out when he tells her.

"They seem to be getting along," she says, grabbing plates from above the sink and placing pieces of cake on them. Burt and Blaine's voices float from across the room, and Kurt's never been gladder that Blaine is a charming and diligent person.

"I was afraid they wouldn't, if you want to be honest," Kurt says, placing the cake back in the fridge. The apartment's beginning to smell like coffee, earthy and homey, and he inhales deeply as he grabs the creamer before closing the fridge door. "You know, with Blaine being so much older and all."

"I figured your father would have to come around. He knew how happy Blaine made you, but he was just too stubborn to admit that seeing him could be a good thing for you."

Kurt trolls his eyes and smiles. "Sounds like Dad all right."

Carole leaves to go to the bathroom, and Kurt grabs two plates with a slice of cake on each, and he's just about to head into the living room when the sound of his name from Blaine's mouth stops him, and he ducks with his back against the stove, the plates clutched close to his chest.

"I'm sorry if I might've overstepped a few boundaries by having my driver come and pick you up and by paying for dinner tonight. Kurt told me not to, but I just...you guys mean a lot to him, and he means a lot to me."

"Look, Blaine, I'm real happy that you've done all this for us, and I appreciate it, but..." Burt's voice trails off, and Kurt holds his breath.

Blaine lets out a sigh, and Kurt can imagine him rubbing a hand over his hair. "It's the age thing, isn't it?"

"Don't get me wrong," Burt says quickly, "I don't think I've ever seen Kurt this happy, and it's nice to know that he's got someone to keep him that way, but it's just kinda uncomfortable seein' you two so...intimate."

"Sir, I know you may not approve, and I hope you do someday soon, but I love Kurt, and I would do anything for him. Age doesn't matter to us."

Kurt leans against the wall, clutching the plates harder. He knows that he and Blaine love each other, but hearing it from Blaine, that passion when he thinks Kurt isn't listening, makes his heart race, his stomach to erupt suddenly in thousands of rapidly-beating butterflies.

"Now where did I ever say that I didn't approve?" Burt says, and Kurt's breath catches again. Surely his father isn't giving in this easily? Even when Kurt had told him that he loved Blaine Burt had been completely unwavering and only slightly begrudging. This sounds like he's actually starting to like Blaine. "And...call me Burt, Blaine. You aren't really that much younger than me and having reminders of how old I am really sucks."

Blaine laughs, and Kurt chooses that moment to appear with the cake, declaring, "Coffee is almost ready, guys, if you want some." He lets Blaine pull him down into a kiss, giggling when their hands tangle together and he hears Burt cough pointedly from the chair.

----

It's after Burt and Carole have left for the night with promises to call them tomorrow and plan something out that Kurt feels the odd sense of latent anger as he remembers the blasé way Blaine had paid for their meal. He's used to it by now, of course, but sometimes he just wants to be able to reciprocate, and tonight was another reminder that he can't. It stings, and it may be fatigue, the stress finally wearing off and the tiredness setting in, but when Blaine leans in for a kiss goodnight before he heads home, too, Kurt pulls away.

Blaine looks hurt, and he's tentative in asking, "What's wrong?"

"Why do you have to keep doing that?" Kurt asks, sharp, and it comes out a little watery as he feels, to his horror, tears prick at his eyes. He turns quickly away, picking up the dirty plates and coffee mugs. He hears Blaine's footsteps behind him, but he doesn't look up until they're all gathered in his arms.

"Doing what?" Blaine looks genuinely confused, brows knitted together as he looks Kurt in the eyes, silently asking him for an answer, why he's acting this way so suddenly. Kurt wishes he had a better reasoning besides something that happened hours ago and that everyone had pretty much forgotten about.

Kurt heads into the kitchen, and still Blaine follows. He places the plates in the sink, and Blaine is there, looking unsure, and Kurt finally loses it, all the built-up frustration at everyone doubting their relationship's authenticity, that Blaine loves him just as much as he loves Blaine.

"Buying everything! Like, I get it, okay? You're rich and successful and paying for things all the time doesn't really affect your bank accounts any. But when I don't even get an opportunity to pay for my boyfriend when we go out..." He lets his voice trail off as it falls to a broken whimper, wiping his hand across his eyes to brush away the wet sting of tears. "And tonight, I...god, I felt so helpless in front of my parents because here's their poor son who has to use his sugar daddy to pay for his food!"

Kurt doesn't mean for it to come out like that, and he watches Blaine recoil, then watches the look on his face go from hurt to angry to hurt again, all in the flash of a second. "Do you think that's all I am to you, Kurt?" he asks, and the quietness of his voice frustrates Kurt more than it would if Blaine were yelling and becoming slightly hysterical, too. "Do you think I buy you stuff just because I'm your sugar daddy? Because I don't think that our relationship is anything like that."

Kurt sniffs but doesn't say anything. He looks down at the worn floorboards before the shine of Blaine's black loafers comes into view and there's a familiar hand under his chin tilting his head up. "I want to spoil you because someone as special as you deserves to be spoiled. You deserve to have the world at your feet and your heart's desire whenever and however you want it."

"I don't want you to spoil me." Kurt pulls away, crosses his arms over his chest and bites hard onto his lip. "I want you to love me."

"I do love you," Blaine says sincerely, and he's back again, hand under Kurt's chin and the lines in his face set deeper as he tries to get Kurt to look at him. "I'm just...showing you how much I love you. You're my prince, baby, and I want to give you the world."

"Why can't you give me your heart instead?" Kurt asks quietly. He feels a tear slip down his cheek, and Blaine thumbs it away.

He leans in, and Kurt holds his breath, lifts his eyes and stares deep into Blaine's.

"I already gave you my heart the moment I saw you. This bracelet"—he reaches for Kurt's hand and tugs up his sleeve, where the cuff rests against his wrist—"is a reminder of how much of my heart you own."

Kurt takes Blaine's hand, sniffs again and asks, "And how much do I own?"

"All of it." Blaine kisses him, pulls him close until it feels like they could both disappear into one another. It's closer than Kurt's ever felt to anyone, and this is more than he's ever felt, so overwhelmed and alive because of it. "I love you, Kurt. I'm in love with you."

"I love you too," Kurt says, blinking, and throws his arms around Blaine's neck. "So much, Blaine, I—"

And Kurt kisses Blaine again, desperate to convey and prove how he feels, because sometimes there are just no words.