In between end of year exams and assignments and saying goodbye to friends Kurt manages to push Blaine's ever nearing arrival to the back of his mind, and instead focuses on promises to friends and wordy essay titles and finishing off designs. He begins to spend more and more time actually atcollege, distracting himself from the state of the apartment. If there's anything Kurt's learnt over the past three years of living with Cooper, it's that he appears to have two modes.

Average-Everyday Mode, in which his clothes and books and papers will scatter like leaves around the apartment, just waiting to be tripped over by Kurt before Cooper eventually clears them up with a little chuckle and muttered apology. And Kurt will just roll his eyes and shake his head and wander into the sanctuary of his own room.

And then there's I-Have-An-Exam-In-The-Near-Future-And-No-Time-To-Put-My-Shit-Away Mode, in which practically Cooper's entire closet gets strewn around each room of the apartment, him being too tired and stressed to wash anything and just slowly working his way through all his clothes until he ends up sitting his last exam in a winter jumper and Kurt's too small sweat pants. Books litter every surface, their large, normally neat bookshelf looking bare and skeletal, their collection of books having practically doubled with each of Cooper's visits to the library. The need to return books also being forgotten as part of the No-Time-To-Put-My-Shit-Away mantra Cooper develops during this time, which often leads to a hefty library fine after his exams, which Cooper pays with a wink and a smile to the delicate lady behind the desk, who each times rolls her eyes and holds her hand out for the money.

So for the weeks before Blaine's arrival Kurt spends a significant amount of his time tucked away in a corner of his college, pouring over designs and sketches and adding and erasing, sighing and yawning and keeping his mind as occupied as he can. It's only when he gets the occasional text from Cooper, who himself only remembers sporadically, that Blaine's imminent arrival comes surging back to the forefront of Kurt's mine;

'Do we even have spare bedding?'
'Yes, stop panicking. How's the essay going?'

'We need Reese's Puffs, they're his favourite'
'Don't try and trick me with this, I can see straight through your lies'

'Have you seen my green shirt and am I going to have to do Blaine's washing when he gets here?'
'I don't even know how to wash a bow tie'
'It's under the left sofa cushion. He can do his own washing, he's old enough, bow ties and all'

'Do you think we could sneak Blaine into a bar?'
'What do you think?'
'Is that a challenge?'

This chaos continues for the next unknown number of days, all blurring into one string of endless moments until finally Kurt's school work comes to an end, the last paper signed and garment sewn, all handed in as the weight of the world lifts from his shoulders. He trudges home, an unmoveable, exhausted smile on his face as the cool wind whips around his worn out body, the freedom of summer stretching before him. When he gets home he's unsurprised to find Cooper asleep on the couch, laptop on the coffee table in front of him, a dozen books held open by various items, a polo of Kurt's stretched over his back and a pair of running shorts barely covering his legs.

"Coop? Come on, Cooper?" Kurt whispers, gently shaking his best friends shoulder from behind the couch, not wanting to startle him. But he jumps anyway, shooting upwards, papers crinkling beneath his disorientated body as he blinks and looks around at Kurt.

"Wha's goin' on?" he murmurs, rubbing at his eyes, and tugging at his knotted hair.

"You fell asleep. You should go bed Cooper, I'll try and clear up a bit," Kurt offers, gently batting away his hands and carding his finger through Cooper's hair, hearing him groan beneath the comforting touch.

"What time is it?" he asks, looking up at Kurt.

"Almost seven," Kurt tells him.

"Can I ring Blaine later? Tell him 'bout Saturday?" He asks through another body-trembling yawn.

"Course you can, just go and have a nap while I clean and then you can ring Blaine and reveal your big surprise. How about that?" Kurt offers, watching a weak smile tug at the corners of Cooper's lips at the mention of finally being able to tell Blaine.

"M'kay," he eventually sighs as he stands. Kurt groans as Cooper stretches, hearing each crack and grind of bone, practically feeling each stretch of his aching, cramped muscles. "Sorry I'm such a pain at the minute, dunno how you put up with me," Cooper says, shooting Kurt a smile before stepping around the couch and pulling him into a tight hug.

Kurt stifles his laughter and hugs back. "You can make it up to me by buying me a new shirt, this ones all stretched out," he says, pulling at the fabric and earning a muffled apology mingled with a snort of laughter.

Cooper then turns and pads over to his room, dragging the polo in question off before falling face first onto his bed. Kurt watches through his open bedroom door as he shuffles up slightly, bending his legs up to his chest, dragging a pillow down before falling peacefully, soundlessly asleep.

Kurt can't help but smile a little, allowing himself a yawn before beginning to clear up, but it seems that with only the mundane task of cleaning to distract him he's unable to stop his mind from wandering to the fact that in only three days time Blaine will be here. In New York. In their apartment. For a month.

Kurt sighs under his breath and tells himself for what feels like the hundredth time that it'll be fine. All he's got to do is keep his hands to himself, his mind out of the gutter, and his lips from speaking the words he hasn't dared admit to himself yet.

He'd initially put his feelings down to attraction. Just pure, simple, easy-to-ignore attraction to a gorgeous boy, made only more attractive by the fact he knows he can't have him.

But this changed, slowly and unnoticeably among the rush of life, among the passing of days, morphing into something else not wholly unlike attraction, but stronger. Harder to push to the back of his mind. Impossible to ignore.

And before Kurt knew it his attraction for a never-been-touched boy had disintegrated and been rebuild into impure, sordid, delicious, adulterated want. Want which caught him in the dead of night and woke him, sweat drenched and hard in the all-knowing darkness. Want which caused his entire body to ache from the inside out. Want which trapped him in the iron-like cage of his ribs, blood pumping violently but to no avail.

And he hates it. Hates this feeling he has no control over, his body which he has no control over and his mind which he has no control over. Because as much as he's ignored it and fought it and resolutely denied it to himself, he can't help but remember the hesitant, unpractised drag of Blaine's cherry-red lips against his own when he closes his eyes. The soft, almost inaudible gasps and moans and unstifled whimpers which wrapped around Kurt's body like an orchestra, holding their bodies closer.

And each time he tells himself no, never, not in a million years. You can't, he tells himself, you just can't. But each time these words repeat like a broken record in his head he sees the image of Blaine's big, innocent, honey-hued eyes and feels his knees tremble with the desire to kiss him till he falls apart, to peel off his clothes and drop to his knees and give in. Give in to the rush of blood in his ears and the shake in his fingertips and the lust which slinks slowly up his spine, engulfing him.

All of this rushes in waves through Kurt as he cleans the apartment quickly and efficiently, crashing one after another, a storm beneath his skin. Trying his best to distract himself he sorts Cooper's clothes into lights and darks and forces the first load in to wash. He rips sheets of paper into bookmarks and closes all Cooper's books, paper sticking out at various places before they're all forced haphazardly onto the bookshelf. The rest of the papers he gathers and organises as best he can, stacking them in neat piles on the dining table for Cooper to sort through, before swiftly neatening the couch, the coffee table, wiping down the kitchen and washing up the mugs and glasses, bowl and plates which had accumulated beneath the papers.

When Kurt turns around the apartment looks significantly better, neater and more organised, easy to sort through. He just wishes his mind was the same.

Glancing at his watch he figures Cooper should ring Blaine soon, it starting to get late, especially with Blaine having his final exam the next day, and he knows that the longer he leaves Cooper the less likely he'll be to sleep later. And he doesn't much fancy waking up to the entire apartment wrecked again after Cooper pulls an all nighter. So somewhat reluctantly he wakes his roommate and presses his phone into his hand, muttering, "get up and make your brothers day," and watching as a smile lights up Cooper's face as dread runs cold in Kurt's blood.

/

So it's only three later that Kurt leaves the apartment mid day, walking quickly down the sun dappled streets of New York towards a tucked away coffee shop as he tries to work out what he's going to do with himself for a month. How is he going to distract himself from blushing, bemused, beautiful-eyed Blaine with his teenage hormones and already-kissed lips?

At first he decided to just leave, but he can't just go home to Ohio, not at such short notice, it would upset Cooper he tells himself, swearing that it's not an excuse. So instead he sits on the street with a strong coffee and a million thoughts as his eyes follow the plane tracks in the sky.

When he does finally go home late in the afternoon, hands in his pockets as if the fabric will hold them back, he walks in to the sound of only too familiar shared laughter in Coopers room. He can't distinguish one from the other, and for some reason this puts him on edge.

He crosses the living room, into the kitchen, deep breaths as he gets a glass of water. Just as he turns, leaning relaxed against the kitchen counter, Cooper's door opens and out emerges Blaine, crinkly eyed as he smiles at his brother over his shoulder.

And there's that second between him laughing and turning that Kurt uses to gauge any differences. He's maybe a tiny bit taller, a little longer and leaner but still shorter than Kurt, which he'll never admit he quite likes. His shoulders look strong beneath the stretched, thin fabric of his maroon t-shirt, the colour contrasting with his tanned, olivey, delicious looking skin. The muscles in his arms are a little thicker, wiry, defined and veiny and Kurt's mouth practically salivates with the desire to reach out and lick the long, toned strip of his forearm where the two muscles meet and dip into an inviting valley. His hands look much the same, broad and long fingered, wrists thick with that knot of bone jutting out prominently.

They're the physical differences, along with no doubt a dozen more which Kurt will never get to learn. But it's the things which remain the same which over ride the lust writhing like snakes in Kurt's stomach. It's the bark of his laughter and the pad of his feet along the floor, his weight behind them before he turns and his eyes find Kurt. He smiles that same half-smile, cocked up at one side and nervous on the other as he blushes a faint pink, hands finding each other, knotting a little before settling in his pockets. He mumbles, "hey Kurt," looking out at him through thick, long fans of lashes and Kurt feels his skins prickle and spark and flame beneath those eyes.

"Hey," he replies, voice steady while his heart thunders like a storm in his chest. He asks about his flight, his parents, school. And Blaine replies, polite and enthusiastic and slowly the atmosphere clears and Kurt's heart calms and the pink on Blaine's cheeks fades and melts away. And Cooper remains blissfully oblivious, finally dressed in his own clothes and considerably calmer now only one exam remains.

Afternoon soon leaks into evening as the city comes alive outside their window. And they sit, the three of them, sprawled on the L-shaped sofa, each with their own corner, Blaine in the middle as they eat take away and watch some awful film Cooper's chose. After finishing his food, Blaine pulls his legs up beneath him and shuffles down a little, propping his arm up on the back on the couch facing Cooper, cheek in his palm as he blinks and yawns and resolutely stays awake.

And out of the corner of his eye, over his box of noodles, Kurt watches the boy wriggle till comfortably, watches as his eyelashes flicker slowly against his cheekbones before they finally close and still. His cheek is crushed against his palm, fingers in his own hair as his sleep-slow body moves and stretches across the fabric. Kurt wonders briefly whether he's really sleeping, and realises his is when he hears the slower, shallower breaths he's taking, mouth open the tiniest degree.

So Kurt continues to watch covertly, flicking a look to Cooper every now and then to make sure he's not watching himwatch his brother. But he isn't, his attention completely focused on the film, so Kurt keeps his eyes sneakily focused on Blaine. He watches the hard bones of his knees stretch the fabric of his tight jeans before his legs unfurl further, until the pale soles of his feet press against Kurt's thigh, cold and soft as his toes curl against Kurt's leg.

Kurt keeps very still, gripping the thin cardboard of the box in hand, chop sticks rigid between his fingers as his eyes follow the lines of spider web bones up Blaine's foot, intersected with pale, weaving blue veins. He can't help but stare, wanting to press his fingers along the bones, feel thin skin and pulsing blood beneath his fingertip. His eyes follow up to the exposed ankle, hem of his jeans turned up and the creases down his Achilles heel.

Then there's an explosion, loud and floor-shaking on the TV, causing Kurt to jump, Blaine to wake and Cooper to scramble for the remote to turn it down. Kurt's attention is now on Cooper, laughing at them jumping, chuckling and smiling at Kurt, while between them Blaine rubs his eyes and rolls onto his back. He half sits up against one of the sofa backs beside Cooper as he rotates his aching wrists and ankles, only then does he feel the warm, denim-rough press of Kurt against his feet. He yanks them back, glancing at Kurt, watching his eyes flicker down to the sudden movement before looking up at Blaine. "I- sorry, I was asleep," Blaine tries to explain, moving to push himself up properly from where he's sat perpendicular to Kurt.

But Kurt just smiles and laughs and speaks, "it's fine, you're cold," he finds himself saying as his right hand reaches out on it's own, gripping one of Blaine's feet in the warm cage of his hand, palm against the bones, fingers curling beneath the arch while Blaine looks up with startled eyes. "It's fine," he says again, pulling slightly until Blaine gives in and let's him tug his feet closer, tucking his ice cube toes beneath Kurt's thighs.

Instant warmth spreads through Blaine's body, and it's less to do with his feet actually being cold as it is to do with the slight weight of Kurt's thigh on him, hot and hard as Blaine's body, on instinct, presses closer until his feet slide completely beneath Kurt, trapped between rough denim and soft sofa cushion as his toes flex against the thick muscle.

Kurt shoots him a smile, before focusing back on the TV, picking at what's left of his food. Blaine watches his profile for a minute, the double curve of his lips and the slight point of his nose, the curve of his brow and the sharp-soft dips of his cheek bones. He watches his fingers, long and pale, skilfully yielding chop sticks and he just can't look away. It's only when his brother speaks that Blaine comes out of a daydream of Kurt's broad hands pressed against his shoulders, fingers trailing goose bumps down his spine.

"D'you want us to go so you can sleep?" Cooper asks, chucking his empty rice box onto the coffee table where it lands and tilts and spills, rice skittering across the surface, making Kurt groan and glare at him.

"Huh? No, no I'm fine," he reassures Cooper with a smile. But Cooper argues, as brothers do, and within minutes he's shooing Kurt off the couch, sending him to retrieve spare bedding while he unfolds the pull out sofa bed, Blaine still lying complaining in the corner.

"I'm not tired Coop!" Blaine whines over and over, kicking at his brother when he walks close enough. Kurt walks in then, blankets and pillows under his arms before he throws one at the back of Blaine's head, finally shutting him up. He scowls over his shoulder, petulant as Cooper drags him upright and pushes him into his bedroom with instructions to get changed.

Blaine glares but walks away, slamming the door as the sound of Kurt and Coopers mingled laughter swells and fills the apartment. Minutes later he's shuffling out, embarrassed in his too long sweatpants and vest top, arms protective around his waist as his eyes take in the now dark living room and his makeshift bed.

"G'night B," Cooper says from beside him, making him jump before he turns and sees his eyes in the darkness.

"Night," Blaine says back, smiling as his brother pulls him into a hug.

"Happy early birthday," Cooper says through a grin, a wink amongst the blackness of night.

Blaine laughs, thanks him again and says "I can't believe I'm here."

"I always promised," Cooper replies before disappearing into his room, the door closing gently in the silence as Blaine smiles and crawls into his bed, his first night in New York, a dream he's had since his brother left for college three years previous.