"You're thinking about him," Kurt says with a surprising lack of jealousy. (Well, surprising to him.)

Harry just looks guilty. "Am not." It's possible he's the worst liar in the history of the world, and it's entirely possible that every single thought he has shows plainly on his face.

"How on earth did you actually survive a war?" Kurt asks, sitting next to him on the couch.

"Luck, mostly," Harry says with a shrug, like it mystifies him, too. Kurt has to admit the modesty doesn't get less adorable over time. If it is modesty. If it's true inept luck, well, god help him, but that's adorable, too.

Kurt shakes his head. "Your face," is all he can think to say.

Harry gives him a curious look. "No. Your face."

Kurt laughs. "That doesn't even make sense."

Harry shrugs. "Didn't make much sense when you said it, either," he says, and they're getting off the topic.

"We're getting off the topic," Kurt says.

"Was there a topic?" Harry asks with the worst attempt at guilelessness Kurt's seen yet.

"Draco," Kurt says.

"I think I'd have remembered if we were talking about Malfoy," Harry says, and props his feet on the coffee table.

Kurt nudges them off. "I hadn't actually gotten that far."

"Well, good. What would you want to talk about Malfoy for, anyway?"

"Now you're just being deliberately obtuse." (At least, Kurt thinks he is.)

Harry groans. "Fine. I can't actually get him off my mind. He's like chewing gum on the bottom of your shoe. Once you step in it, you're never rid of it."

Kurt feels his eyebrows rising as he tries to parse that one. "And have you...stepped in it?" he asks delicately, not quite sure how else to phrase this.

"Er," Harry says, answering Kurt's question rather succinctly, if not eloquently.

"Not recently, I hope," because if that no-cheating spell is fake, Kurt's going to be very annoyed indeed. Um, not that he'd cheat on his husband even if he could, of course. Much. No, of course he wouldn't.

They both spend some time guiltily examining opposite walls of the apartment.

"A few years ago," Harry says eventually. "I practically did step in it. Fell into it, anyway."

"And it didn't work out?"

"I honestly think we would have killed each other by now," Harry says with a wistfulness that suggests he would have died a happy man.

Kurt probably shouldn't find that quite so charming.

"Well," he says, after some cautious re-phrasing in his head, "Were you under a spell?"

"Oh, several, actually," Harry says easily. "I don't think it was a spell that made it happen, though. We've never been able to keep our hands off each other."

Kurt's eyebrows don't seem to be coming down from his hairline any time soon. He resolves to moisturize extra well tonight, maybe buy that new wrinkle treatment he's had his eye on. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Kurt asks.

"That Malfoy and I have some serious unresolved issues?" Harry asks.

"Not how I would have phrased it," Kurt says, and then finds himself forced to admit, "but yes."

"I'm thinking what you're thinking," Harry confirms.

"Have you ever wondered what makes this," Draco makes a vague gesture between himself and Blaine in the bathroom mirror, "so much better than what Potter and Hummel have?"

"I...can't honestly say I've put much thought into it," Blaine admits. And of course he hasn't. "That's not to say this isn't good. I mean, it'd be hard to deny the essential goodness of this thing we've got going on."

Draco resolves, yet again, not to find the babbling charming. He fails utterly. "Thank Merlin I'm here to think for both of us then."

'Merlin?' Blaine mouths into the mirror.

Draco ignores him. "What makes this so much better is our complete lack of plans for the future," Draco says with conviction.

"Excuse me?"

"Plans," Draco says again. "You and I could part with regrets tomorrow, and we'd never suspect it today."

"Oh, well," Blaine says, "as long as there are regrets."

"No commitment either. Commitment," Draco says, and holds up a hand for emphasis, "is unsexy."

Blaine turns away from the mirror to stare at him, head cocked. "Are you this romantic with all your boyfriends?" he asks eventually.

Draco scowls. "Don't be stupid. I'm irredeemably monogamous, and for the time being, I seem to be stuck with you."

"Romantic," Blaine says and rolls his eyes.

Draco privately admits he deserves that. "Romance is for poofs," Draco says with some amount of conviction.

Blaine continues to stare at him, and Draco realizes his cue to exit before Blaine inevitably points out -

"We kind of are poofs," Blaine says, following Draco into the living room, and sitting to put on his shoes. "I mean, not the word I'd choose to describe my personal homosexuality, but you have to admit, it's accurate."

"I admit no such thing. The subtleties of English are lost on you," Draco says as haughtily as he knows how.

It's rather haughty if he does say so himself.

Blaine makes an obscene and very American gesture in his direction. "And while we're at it," Blaine says in a suspiciously offhanded manner, "the Kurt and Harry thing? For someone who's irredeemably monogamous, you spend a lot of time thinking about someone else's husband."

Draco squints at him, looking for ulterior motive, guile, or even garden variety jealousy.

Blaine stares back at him with equanimity and waits for a reply.

"I may be a little obsessed with Potter," Draco finally admits.

"A little?" Blaine asks.

Draco ignores him and continues. "I consider it a personal failing."

"Why's that?" Blaine shrugs into his coat and holds Draco's for him. It's a small courtesy Draco can't help enjoying. "He seems like a nice guy."

"He is a nice guy," Draco says, imitating Blaine's American accent as best he can. "And that is my problem with him." He sweeps out the door.

Blaine follows him out the door with less sweep, more saunter, and locks it behind them. "I'm a nice guy," he says.

"Not as nice as Potter," Draco says darkly.

So one thing leads to another, and Blaine's actually really glad he decided months ago not to examine the way Draco's verbal abuse makes him want to throw Draco against the nearest wall and tear his clothes off.

"What's taking so long, Anderson?" Draco pants against his ear.

"Hey, you're the one who decided to wear about a million buttons," Blaine points out. "This outfit is one giant cockblock."

"Fuck you. I look fabulous in it." Draco nips his ear and hauls Blaine's shirt up in back to drag his fingers down his spine. And it feels. So. Good.

"Oh my god, do that again," Blaine groans, dropping his hands from the buttons. If Draco ever loses his job doing, um, whatever is is he does, he's got a fantastic future as a masseuse.

Instead, Draco drags his hands around to the front of Blaine's pants and undoes his belt. "Put your back into it when you fuck me, and I might consider it."

"Who says I'm fucking you?" Blaine demands, and, wow, Draco does not do his dapper gentlemanly side any favors at all. "Maybe I want to be fucked."

Draco's hands still and he looks at Blaine with an arched eyebrow that demands to know 'Seriously? No, really, seriously?' "When you have all this on offer?"

Blaine has to admit it's a nice offer. But he does kind of want to, well... He shakes his head. "As long as your self confidence doesn't need a boost or anything," Blaine says.

"Please. I was born with enough to supply three Mu - lifetimes," Draco says and gives his pants a shove. Then he smacks Blaine's hands away and undoes the rest of his buttons, and, honestly, Blaine's not going to complain. His fingers were starting to cramp.

"Seriously," he mutters undoing the (more reasonable) buttons on Draco's shirt, "who wears that many buttons?"

"We're about to have spectacular sex," Draco says (and, hey, at least there's spectacular on the table), "and you're commenting on my sartorial choices?"

"Giant," Blaine reiterates, dragging Draco's shirt down his shoulders and mouthing over the exposed skin, "cockblock," he says into a clavicle.

"Fuck," Draco grinds out, grabbing Blaine's shoulders because his shirt is still trapped around his wrists and he can't reach any further. Blaine resolves to worry later about what it says about him that the whole minor quasi bondage thing is working for him. "Get on with it, Anderson. I'm wearing too many clothes."

Blaine opens his mouth to point out that that's exactly what he's been complaining about but, well, it's true. "You don't say," he says, kneeling to pull Draco's pants and boxers off, tossing them...somewhere. With maybe a little more force than necessary. He takes a considering look at Draco leaning against the door, pale and panting, with his hair in his face and a tremor in one thigh, and decides to leave the shirt on.

He grabs the tail ends of it and backs toward the bed, dragging Draco with him. "Better?"

Draco's eyes narrow, but his pupils are blown wide. That, and he's as hard as Blaine is. "I'll reserve judgment."

"You are so," Blaine says, shoving Draco down onto the mattress and crawling over him, "high," he says, biting a kiss into the skin under Draco's jaw, "maintenance," he finishes, wrapping a hand around Draco's dick and stroking roughly.

Draco answers with a frustrated moan, struggling with the shirt trapping his arms, before dropping down to the bed and throwing a leg over Blaine's shoulder. "Yes, I am," he says, with an almost completely straight face. "Please fuck me now." The tiniest of rueful smiles tugs at his lips.

Blaine laughs and rubs his cheek over the soft skin on the inside of Draco's thigh. "Demanding, too."

"Blaine," Draco says with charming seriousness, "if you don't fuck me soon, I'll be forced to..." he takes a deep breath, "ask very nicely."

Blaine can't stop himself from laughing. "How can I say no when you ask like that?"

"You can't?" Draco suggests hopefully.

Blaine shuffles through the bedside drawer for lube and a condom. "Yeah, you're right." He pauses to kiss Draco, dragging his teeth over his lower lip as he backs away.. "I pretty much can't."

When Kurt lets go of Harry's lip, it stings and throbs, and Harry can't honestly say he doesn't like the whole stinging and throbbing thing going on with it. He decides not to examine it too closely. Always worked for him before.

Works for him now, with Kurt laying stinging kisses along his shoulder and licking a broad stripe up his neck. "Fucking hell. And to think I thought you'd be..." Harry trails off, realizing Kurt honest to Merlin just growled at him.

"Be what?" Kurt asks, conversationally. And nakedly.

Harry licks his lips, and goes for the old Gryffindor bravery. "A blushing virgin."

"Oh, is that all," Kurt says against his jaw, doing something absolutely obscene with his hips, and really, do men's hips move that way? "It's the face," Kurt says. "I look twelve."

"Don't be silly," Harry answers immediately, in no small part because he's not willing to be that much of a pervert yet. "You look at least fifteen."

Kurt snorts and moves to get off the bed,

Harry hooks an arm around him and hauls him back into his lap. "I'm sorry. You look a stunning nineteen at least. Completely mature and attractive, and not at all like a lost kitten," he says quickly.

Kurt arches an eyebrow at him and shifts until his thighs are neatly bracketing Harry's hips again. A place he likes them very much, thank you. "Kitten?" he asks.

"Um," Harry says. "There is a certain kittenish quality about you. Quite appealing."

Kurt laughs and tries to get off his lap again, and honestly:

"Will you stay put? We're in the middle of something," Harry complains.

"Yes," Kurt agrees, "and if you'll let me get the lube, we'll be in the middle of quite a lot more."

"Oh. Yeah. That'd be nice," Harry admits, feeling a little silly, and holds out a hand. "Accio- " he mumbles the rest into Kurt's palm.

"No," Kurt says.

Harry lifts his eyebrows in inquiry, because, honestly, the lube idea was a good one.

"The last time you accioed lubricant at me, I had it in my hair for days, Harry. Days."

"I might've been a little over-eager," Harry admits when Kurt lets go of his face.

"A little? You summoned the AstroGlide like it'd save the world."

Harry spares a moment's effort to not think about Horcruxes and grins. "You never know what'll save the world. I've heard grand things about duct tape."