They see each other the following morning. Well, first Blaine see's Kurt when he walks by his brother's room for no reason in particular.

Cooper's sprawled on top of the bed, spread eagle, sweat pants low on his hips and upper body bare. He's snoring very gently, smacking his lips together, wriggling before stilling. But Blaine's not bothered about him, his attention focuses on Kurt beside him, crushed into the remaining space. The blankets are pulled right up to his chin, hair splayed dark against the white pillow, face tranquil and turned upwards slightly, towards the sun which streams broken through the half open blinds. His body is completely covered apart from one leg, poking out, dangling slightly over the edge of the bed, knee bent and curled over the covers. Pale and bare with light, coarse hairs. Blaine can see up to his knee, and a few inches of thigh, and his fingers flex subconsciously to touch again like he had yesterday.

After Kurt and his brother had gone out, after the sound of car tyres on the drive had disappeared and the headlights had swung past Blaine's room like a lighthouse, Blaine had lain back on his bed and unashamedly jerked off.

Quick and clumsy, the smell of Kurt's cologne still rushing through his body and making his head swim with lust. His heart thundering in his chest as he remembered the press of a boys, no, a mans lips against his, his hands on his face, in his hair, on his hip. Holding him and touching him and making him tremble and feel like he'd never believed was possible.

When he comes it's with Kurt's name on his lips and his taste on his tongue, the imaginary but now imaginable press of his body beneath and against Blaine's.

And then he just lies there, in the silence of an empty house, come on his hand, eyes closed and lips parted as he visualises Kurt slinking up his body, kissing him languidly and pressing all his weight and warmth against Blaine.

He rolls over after his breath stops coming in short, shallow drags and cleans his hand, his cock, rubbing at the little bit he got on his black top before dragging it off and throwing it across the room, his skin's too hot, body loose and pliable. He kicks off his jeans and boxers as well before crawling beneath the covers of his bed, emotions in turmoil as guilt and shame and happiness and desire swim in his blood in equal amounts.

He's just had his first kiss. With his brother's best friend. A guy who's 21, five years his senior.

Oh fuck, is his last thought before he falls into a restless sleep of warm, broad hands, easy smiles and hidden kisses.

But now it's morning, and after gawping at Kurt's leg for far longer than he'll ever admit, he makes his way downstairs, wearing pyjamas he hasn't slept in and a nervous expression. It's not unusual for Kurt to spend the night after hanging out with Cooper, if anything it's more unusual for him not to, but that'd mostly been before they left for college together three years ago, when Blaine had been thirteen, idolising his brother, not fantasising about his best friend.

Blaine grumbles something under his breath, index finger inadvertently running along his bottom lip before he pours milk over his cereal, sitting down at the breakfast bar and eating probably a little more aggressively than usual.

"Hey, what's up with you? I can hear you crunching all the way from the front room," his dad teases as he walks in, ruffling his hair like he does every morning, which Blaine doesn't normally find irritating, although today it makes his jaw clench before he replies.

"Nothing's up," he replies, shovelling another mouth full of cereal into his mouth and making sure to chew extra loud.

"You not going out with your friends today?" his dad asks, making himself a cup of coffee.

Blaine shrugs, "maybe, I dunno," he says, dropping his spoon loudly before making his way over to the sink, washing his bowl as he talks, "David said something about going over to his."

"Well you've gotta make the most of this week off," his dad smiles down at him, about to start a speech about his upcoming exams when Cooper and Kurt shuffle in, both bleary eyed and heavy limbed. "Hey boys," his dad greets them enthusiastically, causing them both to wince and rub their heads.

Cooper's thankfully put some clothes on while Kurt's wearing a borrowed t-shirt and his tight, grey jeans from yesterday, which Blaine actively ignores. Cooper heads over to the medicine cabinet, grumbling a reply to his dad and batting him away when he pats him hard on the back. Mr. Anderson then steps forward and pulls Kurt into a tight hug, "good to see you kid," he says, ruffling his hair like he had Blaine's and snorting in laughter as Kurt makes a face and pushes him away, mumbling something about a headache, before smiling sleepily at the oldest Anderson.

Kurt throws Blaine a guarded smile as he slides onto a stool while the others are distracted, to which Blaine blushes furiously before looking at the floor. Meanwhile Cooper's grabbed some painkillers and antacids, shuffling back over to Kurt and handing him some before throwing his own down his throat.

"Blaine," Cooper says as he drags himself onto the stool next to Kurt, "bring your poor brother some water," he insists as Kurt leans his head back and drops the pills one by one down his throat.

Blaine grumbles something again, earning a laugh from his dad who passes him some glasses. He fills them both with water and hands one to his brother, holding the other out for Kurt, feeling his heart rate increase as Kurt's head tilts sluggishly up to look at him, eyes slow and endlessly blue.

"Thanks Blaine," Kurt says as he takes the glass from him, fingers grazing Blaine's as he does so, and the younger boy can't work out whether it's intentional or not. But before he can decide Kurt's closed his eyes, throat working around each swallow and Blaine consciously has to look away from that.

"Dad, can you give Kurt a lift to get his car?" Cooper asks, looking expectantly at his dad, "I mean, I would, but I'm not trusted with the car," he sighs dramatically, shrugging at his dad as if to say 'what can you do?', actually thankful that he can get out of this job.

"Oh no," Kurt cuts in, "don't worry about it, I was planning on getting a cab anyway," Kurt assures Mr. Anderson, waving his hand absently.

"Blaine could give you a lift," Mr Anderson then says, glancing at his youngest son who practically chokes on his juice at the suggestion, "you're heading to David's anyway right?" he asks, to which Blaine half-nods, half-shrugs, a weird movement which causes Kurt to snort into his hand.

"Honestly, I don't mind getting a cab," Kurt reassures them, catching Blaine's eye, watching the boy flame red under his gaze.

"No!" Blaine then almost yells, making Cooper wince where his head is pillowed in his arms. "I mean," Blaine begins, "I don't mind, I'm heading that way anyway," he says, glancing briefly at Kurt before focusing on the cup in his hand. "I don't mind," he repeats in a mumble.

"Okay, great, now that's settled with someone please make me a fry up and a strong cup of coffee?" Cooper grumbles into the granite counter top, earning a laugh from his dad and an unsympathetic roll of his eyes.

/

Not long later Kurt's sliding into the passenger seat of Mr. Anderson's car, folding his blazer in his lap and tugging at the collar of yesterdays t-shirt, watching Blaine wave goodbye to his dad as he crosses the drive, before climbing into the driver's seat.

"Hi," Kurt says when Blaine catches his eye and smiles timidly, buckling his belt and starting the car.

"Hey," Blaine says back, feeling heat flood his face as he reverses out the drive. A few minutes pass in awkward silence, Kurt staring out his window, biting his lip to hold back his smile. "Where am I heading anyway?" Blaine eventually asks, resolutely not looking at the man beside him as he heads towards Columbus.

Kurt gives Blaine the name of the street he'd parked on the night before, turning to look at him as he does so, struggling to hold back a smile as he watches him nod, squirming slightly under his gaze before punching it into the sat nav.

Eventually though, Blaine builds up the courage to take his eyes off the road and shoots Kurt a shy smile, eyelashes fluttering as he looks away. "What're you smiling at?" Blaine asks after another minute, feeling his skin burn beneath the pressure of Kurt's eyes on him, the small but unmistakable smile which curls his lips. Lips that'd been on Blaine's not 24 hours ago.

"You," Kurt replies simply, still smiling and enjoying the blaze of red up Blaine's cheeks far too much, the sound of his disbelieving snort of laughter.

"What about me?" he asks, confidence growing slightly as he glances at Kurt again, biting back a smile of his own.

"You're adorable when you're nervous," Kurt tells him, revelling in the roll of Blaine's eyes, the way he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, as if he's searching for the phantom taste of Kurt.

"I'm not nervous," Blaine insists, although he doesn't look Kurt in the eye when he says it because they both know it's a lie.

Kurt doesn't say anything, just hums under his breath, earning another snort-laugh from Blaine as he grins happily at the road ahead.

The atmosphere thins slightly after that, neither of them so painfully aware of their movements, Blaine relaxing back into his chair, once again humming along to the radio low in the background. Conversation finally begins between them, easy and simple and surprisingly relaxed as Blaine wonders aloud about New York, about theatre courses and Central Park and everything stereotypically touristy.

Kurt asks about Dalton, about friends and Glee Club and upcoming senior year and resolutely does not watch how Blaine's lips form the words he speaks, tongue dampening them every so often, eyes bright as he retells a favourite story, repeatedly glancing at Kurt to gauge his reaction, smile growing wider each time.

And Kurt can't help but smile back, eyes darting down to trace the tendons of his neck as he turns, the muscles of his arm as he changes gear, listening to the way his words stutter when he catches Kurt looking. But Kurt can't stop himself looking, finding Blaine not only hopelessly adorable but also bone-shudderingly gorgeous, with his tanned, golden skin, hard muscles and them shifting, ever-changing eyes.

He feels desire begin to build in his stomach, just a little at first before Blaine laughs at something, throwing a carefree, white-toothed smile Kurt's way, causing Kurt's hands to grip tight to the sides of his seat, biting his cheek hard, almost drawing blood as he holds back a needy groan. Blaine however is oblivious to Kurt's internal struggle as he turns down a side street, stopping behind Kurt's car.

Blaine puts the handbrake on and hears the click as Kurt unbuckles his belt just as he looks up and smiles at him, opening his mouth to speak, but suddenly Kurt's lips are on his.

The angle is awkward but perfect as Blaine gasps into Kurt's mouth, instantly kissing back, moaning as Kurt presses further forward across the console, his hands tangling in Blaine's hair, angling his face and holding him still as he slides his tongue out.

Blaine grapples for Kurt, still completely confused with what to do with his hands, movements restricted by his belt before one of Kurt's hands dips, unbuckling him and moving closer, half climbing into Blaine lap and feeling as the younger boy moans and trembles and involuntarily bucks his hips upwards.

"I- sorry," Blaine stutters against Kurt's lips, hands now resting against Kurt's thighs which are suddenly either side of him as he uncertainly kneads the muscles.

"Don't be," is all Kurt says because he's finally got his hands and body and lips on Blaine, his voice is deep and gravely, sending waves of desire so strong through Blaine's body that his spine arcs against the leather seat. He moans at the pressure of his jeans against his rapidly hardening cock, and then Kurt's lips are on his again, licking him open, sliding his tongue along the roof of his mouth. Blaine sucks on his tongue as Kurt had done yesterday to him, tasting the orange juice Kurt drank with breakfast.

Kurt moans at the feeling, desire slinking blood-hot and greedy up his spine as he presses forward, shuffling impossibly closer and lowering himself onto the boys lap, feeling sharp nails dig into his muscles through the denim of his jeans. He fists a handful of Blaine's hair, roughly tilting his head back as he kisses harder, rougher, digging his own nails in and taking what isn't his.

After a moment he drags their lips apart, breathing raggedly with closed eyes as Blaine's body quivers beneath him, hips jerking up, cock hard against Kurt's thigh. He can feel Blaine's chest heaving against his own as the boys face falls forward, into the curve of Kurt's neck, pressing a string of delicate, butterfly kisses over the skin beneath him, smelling of yesterday's cologne and sweat and Kurt. A smell so intensely masculine that Blaine whimpers and nuzzles his nose for more, committing it to memory and wishing he could wake to that smell on his skin every morning.

He flicks his eyes up when he hears Kurt laugh above him, his own face curling into a smile before Kurt kisses him again, considerably slower, gentler, as their bodies instinctively roll against one another. But soon that becomes not enough, the slow slide of their lips, so instead Kurt presses hungrily forward, biting and nipping down Blaine's jaw and neck and revelling in his tiny mewls and groans and whimpers before he slams their lips together one final time, Blaine's gasp of surprise echoing around the empty car as his hands wind clinging and pressing and grasping further and further up Kurt's body, hot and real and gorgeous above him.

Neither of them are sure how long it lasts, this drag of their lips together, the unpractised, wet slide of tongues or the roaming of hands, which Kurt manages to keep above the waist. Blaine's on the other hand having edged subconsciously further and further up the lean, hard muscle beneath his hands, have curved around until they're shaped around Kurt's ass, squeezing and holding and moaning shamelessly.

But eventually, whether after a few minutes or a few hours they'll never know, Kurt pulls back again, breathless and half-hard and completely turned on. "I'm sorry," he apologises, though he's not entirely sure what for, staring down at the wrecked boy beneath him.

Blaine's lips are still open, wet with Kurt's saliva as he breaths shallowly before his eyes blink open, pupils blisteringly black and unfocused before they find Kurt's, a slow, languid, easy smile curling his lips as his hands tighten on the ass still firmly planted on his lap before racing up, daring to run a couple of inches beneath Kurt's top to feel the hot skin of his lower back before sliding back down to his perfect ass. "Don't be," he parrots, swallowing as their chests press against one another, earning a small laugh from Kurt whose head is bowed awkwardly against the ceiling.

"I should…" Kurt trails off, motioning towards the now empty passenger seat. Blaine nods and laughs and avoids eye contact. "Blaine?" Kurt says, causing Blaine's eyes to dart up, expectant and hopeful and gorgeous, "you need to let go of my ass," Kurt tells him.

Blaine blushes painfully crimson as his hands drop like lead weights from where he hadn't realised he was still squeezing the perfect weight in his hands, shooting Kurt a coy smile as he slides off of him. Blaine instantly works to tug his shirt over his raging hard-on, praying Kurt hasn't noticed.

But of course Kurt's noticed, he'd felt the hardness of Blaine's cock pressed against his thigh a matter of seconds ago as Blaine rolled his hips up, whining at the restricted friction. He'd wanted nothing more than to slink his hand beneath the fabric and make Blaine properly fall apart, make him moan and want and come like he never has in his life. But he can't, not in Blaine's dad's car in the middle of a street. Not ever, he corrects himself as he works to straighten his own clothes, internally chastising himself.

"Er… I'm sorry, I just-" Kurt begins, feeling the need to explain, but not knowing how. What can he say to a never-been-touched 16 year old when all he wants to do is rip his clothes away and pick him apart, with his teeth and tongue and lips, watching his body writhe and want beneath him?

"I- it's fine, I er… it's fine," Blaine mumbles, biting his already red lips.

"Well, thanks for the lift I guess," Kurt finally says through a smile, watching as Blaine mirrors his expression and laughs.

"It's fine," Blaine repeats, smiling painfully wide, rubbing a hand down his face, fingertips ghosting over his trembling lips.

"Bye," Kurt finally says as he grabs his blazer from the floor where it's fallen, tucking it over his arm.

"Yeah, bye Kurt," Blaine says, watching the older man as he undoes the door and slips out, pushing it gently shut before smiling through the window, wonderfully dishevelled from his night out and from Blaine's lips on his.

Blaine watches as Kurt walks to his car, the sway of his hip and his broad shoulders, the stretch of fabric tight across them. He watches him open his door, sliding in, long, lean legs disappearing before the doors slams shut. And then he drives away, down the street and around a corner.

Blaine's head slumps back against the head rest as his mind reels. What the fuck just happened? He internally screams, staring at the corner which Kurt has just disappeared around and groaning as his body continues to shudder gently with desire. He dips a hand into his jeans, rearranging himself until he's slightly more comfortable. He doesn't understand what's just happened, but he resolutely promises himself that he is not going to jerk off in his dads car, he is not going to turn up at his friends house with a boner, and he is not going to imagine Kurt's long, pale body stretched out above him, mapping the lines and contours of his body when he gets home later.

Because that's his brother best friend and it's wrong and twisted and he shouldn't be feeling this way.

He sticks to two of his three promises.