The door closes with a click, and Blaine turns the key in the lock again, a bit of his uneasy tension receding for the feel of his wrist's and fingers' simple, mechanical act alone.

He pushes himself off the smooth, polished wood.

Kurt is still smiling at him. Smiling, not grinning. And yes, it helps as well, that little nuance right now, to have Blaine's breath come easier once more with every passing second.

He rubs the back of his neck and shuffles over to the bed, letting himself fall down on it, almost bouncing off the covers with the momentum and the heavy sigh that finally breaks loose and escapes from deep within.

Kurt chuckles at the theatrical tragedy of the sound, scrambles over and straddles Blaine's hips again, the mattress under them still swaying with their movements.

"Kurt..." Blaine's tone is hesitant.

Because, sure, his heartbeat is almost down to normal again by now, but he still feels the shock of his mom interrupting them in his very bones, adrenaline ebbing away somewhat reluctantly.

In way of answer Kurt only puts his hands on Blaine's upper arms, stroking up, the nails of his thumbs scraping along the inside of Blaine's biceps. Blaine's body responds with a shudder.

Huh. Seems Kurt has a different idea how to put that surplus of adrenaline to use. Instead of wasting it, willing it down...

Kurt leans his head back, looking at Blaine, with that unfathomable measuring gaze again. He repeats the caress of his hands, letting it expand across Blaine's shoulders, then down his front, leisurely as if asking, but determined enough to be an offer.

Blaine draws in a deep breath. He just can't seem to get his boyfriend sometimes. Whenever Blaine thinks he's finally getting the knack of it...

How is it that one time Kurt blushes over sheer words and now even that almost walk-in doesn't seem to put a damper on his mood...? And how is one supposed to keep track?

Kurt's sweet smile reliably melts Blaine's mind for a moment, bedding it in that feathery fuzzy feeling, that never fails to make Blaine's features twitch with that tell-tale dopey grin.

Maybe you should just stop trying to keep track, a small voice inside pipes up. To keep control. And just trust him to know what he wants.

Blaine holds in a sigh, and his chest vibrates with it under the tips of Kurt's fingers.

Oh, yes, they talked about this. More than once.

For every once in a while, not always, but often enough, some conversation or make out session will inevitably come to the point where Blaine starts to bother his head for the both of them. And if he is honest, he knows that it is really that last part that crosses a line, not the worrying in itself, but that his sense for responsibility feels he has to make the right decision for both of them.

To be fair, it has happened the other way around as well, Kurt patronizing Blaine in some form or manner. But for Blaine somehow the habit appears harder to shake.

Blaine watches Kurt's soft features above him, and how the steady flutter of his lashes paints shadows on cheeks flushed with watching, waiting for Blaine.

I know there will be times, Kurt would say, when I will blush and shy away and it, I, we will be awkward. But I promise I'll never do anything that I don't want to do, or don't feel up to. He would search Blaine's eyes then, seeking their connection. We said we'd always be completely honest with each other. This doesn't end here, Blaine. Trust me.

And Blaine would nod, agreeing to hold up his side of this understanding between them.

And he really means to. He does. Blaine bites the inside of his lip. To most parts of his mind this is perfectly clear.

But to those other parts, well... worrying seems to come so easily, too easily, seems so much part of his very nature, even if it leads nowhere, really, most of the time. It's just that thing he does.

Blaine looks up. Like right now.

His glance reaches Kurt's face in time to see blue-grey eyes on Blaine have turned thoughtful. Sees them quickly fill with something else, though, gentle and full of purpose, when Kurt shrugs with a grin, voice soft and knowing. Knowing too well:

"What, Blaine, forty minutes is ample time..."

The drag in Kurt's tone makes Blaine's thoughts stumble, stutter for that cast down of his lashes.

Blaine releases his lip from between his teeth.

Yes. Maybe he should just trust Kurt to do his thing and give up trying to force his own brain's structures on it all, structures and concepts of right and wrong, and too much, too fast, too soon for Kurt. For what does Blaine know so much more himself, really?

Blaine swallows against the sensation of his heartbeat heavy in his throat.

It's probably just that. Because what does he know? At least worrying for Kurt keeps his mind off worrying about himself. Off wondering if he is merely projecting, most of the time. How scared and unsure he gets. How thrilled. How overwhelmed.

Blaine coughs slightly, but still his voice is rather small, and not as playful as he wants it:

"That... that attitude is kind of new..."

Kurt laughs softly, trailing his fingers once more across Blaine's chest. His velvety tone dips even lower, reasoning matter-of-factly through a half-pout: "Mm. It's called positive reinforcement. I've been bold and I got candy, so maybe that makes me wanna be bold some more..."

Blaine's eyes widen over Kurt's colouring of voice around those words, his manner of speaking, and the faintest hint of pink on Kurt's cheek from it.

Kurt chuckles at what Blaine's expression must give away, although his grin is a little lopsided, eyes amused, yet always ever so warm.

"What? I was enjoying myself..." He leans in. "Relax, Blaine, I just want to kiss you some more... I think." The very last part is added under his breath as a kind of afterthought, but an unmistakable taunt nonetheless.

And surely Blaine's mind prepares to ponder that little detail. But then Kurt bends down to press his open mouth against a spot below Blaine's collar bone, where chest meets shoulder.

And with that, Blaine's doubts and hesitations blur considerably. Yes, he's nervous. But he wants this. And Kurt seems to want this. Want him.

The sound that escapes Blaine is something breathy between a sigh and a gasp, until Kurt's lips find his nipple again and Blaine's voice catches in the noise. And suddenly there's no muscle of restraint or thought of inhibition left in Blaine to hold him back.

And oh, god, if that's how it's going to be between them from today on, Blaine doesn't know if to be exhilarated or embarrassed. Because it must be more than obvious to Kurt by now how Blaine can be reduced to an obliging mess with a mere move of Kurt's mouth. Blaine's hands reach out blindly, palms gripping, then roaming Kurt's shoulders.

But then again, Blaine thinks tardily, in some strange fashion, it already has been that way, always. Kurt's quips, his kiss, now this... Oh, yes. Very persuasive, that mouth. And if Blaine blushes over the thought, it's only a little.

At least Kurt has the subtlety to not overstrain his new found power and alternates his attentions away to the entirety of his chest when Blaine's fingers start clamping too hard on his shoulders. Not that Kurt's tongue tracing the contours of Blaine's ribs and sides would have that much less of an effect, though.

And, oh god, he has to remember sometime to ask Kurt who to thank for that armpit advice because, just the brush of Kurt's kiss in the general vicinity there... guh, what was he trying to remember again?

Blaine's toes curl and for a light-headed moment he debates actually being surprised at how fast the state of heat and want returns at last. But then he finds he just isn't, and he dives in head first until he's pulled under completely.

Never faltering Kurt skids lower on his thighs until he lightly rests his weight on Blaine's knees, to be able to kiss down further, licking patterns along Blaine's ribcage, lips outlining abs and catching soft hairs.

Somewhere along, Blaine's fingers have found their way into Kurt's hair as well, softly intertwining with smooth strands, stroking, finding a grip. He'll probably be chastised later for ruining what is left to ruin of that perfect hairdo, even though half-heartedly and with a shy grin, Blaine imagines.

But for now, Kurt doesn't protest, even hums against Blaine's stomach, when Blaine kneads along the hairline on Kurt's nape, hands never pulling Kurt's head down, but keeping shaky company on his path across skin, everything about Blaine aching to have Kurt's wonderful mouth stay just there.

Tingling muscles in Blaine's back strain, when one of Kurt's hands starts clasping at his hip over denim, wrist brushing the still open fly of his jeans. Blaine faintly recalls pulling his briefs up earlier, but since his jeans are tight enough to hold up even with zipper and button undone, he must have neglected to fasten them up.

And now it only takes that light brush for the material to pass on the sensation, and make him acutely aware of the state of him, and Kurt's warmth hovering above, so close. And, oh, it's so different to be the one lying on his back, being on the receiving end of this kind of attention.

Blaine swallows, but the indistinct haze of nervous peaks into something almost tangible making Blaine's heart stutter, when Kurt slips even lower on his thighs, then sits up a bit, breath blown slowly out of his nose announcing what his voice seems to take two attempts to put to speech:

"Can... can I see?"

Blaine blinks, the words resounding in his mind, hanging in the sudden silence between them after a gasp that must have been his. And for a moment his brain refuses to put them together in a way that dares to decide on a sense of meaning, each syllable a single sound without a coherent connection.

"W-what?" He feels his cheeks and ears burn for all the thoughts and images he can't risk to think, that he stops in their tracks on reflex, pressing his eyes shut to keep his mind blank and black like his sight. Some still seep through, though. Blaine groans despite himself.

Just... what exactly is Kurt asking? Unsteady eyes open again and stare into Kurt's wide, waiting ones. Find them glinting with the warmest shine of ... amusement?

Blaine's breath catches. Not so much at the fact – well, yes a bit at that, too, because, really, what is funny here? - but more over how what's displayed on his boyfriend's face affects him back in turn, making his stomach feel light, yet his body anchored heavily into the pillows and that look.

Kurt shrugs a smile that Blaine kind of registers, the echo of the vision strangely lingering when Kurt's eyes drift down next, and Blaine's follow in a reckless impulse. To see Kurt reach. Then trace one finger along Blaine's cock straining beneath and against cotton, like Blaine did it to Kurt, earlier.

Blaine bites his lip when he realizes the sound he's been making. Because, oh.

Kurt's caress leaves. Lets go, intuitively sure, before Blaine can want to squirm away embarrassed by the impact that this lightest of touches, so sudden, and all overwhelming, has on him.

Instead Kurt's finger moves on, grazes the waistband of Blaine's briefs. Reminding Blaine of the question, that wiped his mind.

Kurt sits back on his heels, and lifts his shoulders, letting them slump again with only a small tremble in his voice that lets Blaine know, that the words probably not come as easy and just so as Kurt wants to make them sound:

"Of course it would only be fair..." Kurt pauses, and his look is tentative, venturing, as if maybe he thinks he has to put something more into the balance, misinterpreting Blaine's stunned silence as indecision. "I mean, you could see me, too, if you'd want to..."

Okay, that. Just does it. Blaine's loose fist comes up to his face, fingers pressing against his mouth, knuckles rubbing his chin erratically.

If he desperately wanted, searched for something to say before, now, though his lips keep forming sounds, all his mind seems to consist of is the feel of his own widening stare.

The presence of the boy above him, and those words lingering. Blaine's jaw sets then loosens. Because the mental image. The thought. The thought alone...

Kurt lowers his eyes, but he is smiling, the gesture shyer than his inflection, when he draws out the next words with a soft chuckle:

"I guess that means you're not averse to the thought...of me naked...?" Kurt's eyes look up for the end of this, in time to see Blaine's face fall at the sheer assumption.

Behind his forming frown, Blaine's senses are suddenly wide awake, mind working. His hand reaches out to lay itself on Kurt's forearm. Because there might be a tinge of insecurity in the way Kurt's lashes flutter now, making it more of a honest question than its tone alone would have suggested.

But then... there definitely is that spark as well in distant blue-grey depths, that... Could it be? Is Kurt... teasing him? Something clenches inside Blaine's chest. He better is, because surely Kurt cannot really think Blaine would not be over the moon to... But no, Blaine is not taking chances, not with this, with something this important.

"Kurt, you... You, you didn't honestly think... because I really... god, the thought of... the thought alone... you can't really think I wouldn't..."

His voice comes out a little hoarse and Blaine feels his inner mind set shifting with each stammered word, resurfacing from somewhere deep down under, slipping into worry, into comfort-mode so naturally, even if only gradually.

He shakes his head to clear it. Because still... oh, leave it to an overextended teenage mind to have your most deeply sown worries edged and laced with a jumbling, a jumping to and fro between being utterly confused... and freaking turned on despite it all.

Kurt seems to notice Blaine's struggle, swiftly leaning in to not lose all of the earlier mood. He laughs, jittery, self-deprecation shining in his eyes and voice, almost stumbling: "Relax, Blaine, I'm okay. I'm alright, I'm just messing with you..."

He lays his palms flat on Blaine's chest as if to enforce the appeal in his words, for both their sakes, then drags them down, till his wrists push at the open fly of Blaine's jeans again.

Blaine's thoughts once more refuse to catch up, something in his brains turning in circles seemingly for the sake of movement alone, because with every blink, he can't trace what he just thought he saw a glimpse of.

Yet slowly, and Kurt seems to wait for it, patiently, a sense of awareness gravitates toward that touch, towards Kurt's fingers stroking again along Blaine's belly, almost hooked under the waistband of Blaine's briefs, but not quite, not quite yet.

The moment the reality of that touch gets through, though, when the idea strangely settles and takes Blaine's breath, he looks up, to see Kurt's lips move and he knows Kurt has repeated the question.

And at last Blaine finds himself nodding. Exhilarated and terrified at the motion of his own head, but wide eyes not taking it back nonetheless.

He watches Kurt bite his lip, and thinks he sees his own nerves mirrored in that gesture, but then Kurt's mouth twitches into a smile.

And damp cotton is lifted over the tip of Blaine's cock, cool air hitting him. Making him feel acutely naked suddenly, but not really in a bad sense, and not unlike before, when Kurt did it without intention.

And just like earlier, Blaine can't help the sharp intake of breath, even if Kurt doesn't lay him all completely bare, but gingerly lets the soft band of his cotton briefs settle onto the underside of Blaine's cock.

Blaine tries to focus solely on his body's sensations, wordless and grounding, to not give his mind a chance to think too much, to overanalyse and panic.

Still for an awkward moment, and like out of nowhere, he doesn't know and wonders what to do with his hands, clasping at nothing on the edge of his sight, patting the covers in a repetitive motion without rhythm.

But then Kurt slips resolute fingers into the waistband on the sides of Blaine's hips, and Blaine forgets his own hands as Kurt pulls jeans and briefs down, again together and in one decided movement, the dragging friction of the fabric over most sensitive skin almost all Blaine can take.

The material of Blaine's jeans bunching, Kurt halts mid-thigh, and Blaine sees him debating if to remove the clothes all the way, but then Kurt's look flits up, gets caught and clings, and the idea seems lost.

Blaine traps his own tongue and a sound between his teeth, bites down, when something like a flash of scientific interest flickers across Kurt's face, then something else, that he can't quite name. He swallows, his mouth going dry.

Is this too much? Can we do this? Somewhere in the back of Blaine's mind but still nagging, mantra-like chants go back to repeating themselves following some blind instinct. At least Blaine's not really expecting to get to an answer by now, but he dreads to think about how vulnerable he could be feeling instead, exposed like that.

His hands grip the sheets. Because surely, he would, he should feel uncomfortable, under that gaze growing denser by the second, almost palpable on his skin. That stare, that should be invasive, but somehow... just isn't. Blaine stifles a moan. And is it supposed to be feeling like it does?

For the other end of the heated excitement that colours those high spots on his cheeks, seems to be aiming downwards, jerking and vibrating through his cock. Making it twitch and bob untouched. Making Blaine blush fervently over it and Kurt smile and bite then lick his bottom lip.

And oh god. The uninvited idea this evokes just now.

Blaine's abs tense when inside the chant turns into a fragmented string of yes and no and yes, and too much, taking on a slight panic after all, an exerted intensity that bubbles below but yet doesn't seem to surface to his skin, his body lying immobile and bent in anticipation as before.

And then Kurt's head hovers, close, as if he's actually pondering briefly, considering, and Blaine presses down into the mattress, his body not knowing where else to go, with all those strange impulses of running, of taking the leap, when his muscles still won't really budge.

Kurt's head goes down, and when his breath brushes over, then sucks a kiss on Blaine's belly, Blaine's brain still blacks out, blowing a fuse, lungs all void of air.

Air that doesn't return for another set of breathless seconds, when Kurt's hand is suddenly on him. And now there. There, unmistakably, not by accident, but safe and certain, directed by intention.

Blaines nape presses, arcs into the pillow. And, how to even call this, it isn't really a hand job, it is much like what Blaine did before, a tentative, drawing finger again, but this time without any layer of fabric between them... and, god, was that just himself whimpering?

Kurt lifts his head, and Blaine resists the urge to open his eyes – just when did close them again? – fights the temptation to look down, because he fears, knows, that seeing Kurt watching him might just send him over the edge right now.

Then Kurt's breath leaves his skin, pulling away further, the mattress moving as he's sitting up, and Blaine thinks he might just have voiced the immediate whine of 'nonono' in his head, because Kurt is chuckling softly beside him, shushing soothingly, while he aligns himself next to Blaine's body.

Blaine turns his face, seeking, needing contact so much right now, his lashes fluttering open and shut against the gentle support of Kurt's cheek there, the warmth of Kurt's breath filling him, spreading with a shudder from where it meets the side of Blaine's neck below his ear.

Then Kurt reaches down.

And now he really wraps his fingers around Blaine, surprisingly firmly so, and Blaine's heart jumps at how familiar yet deliciously different that angle is, and his mouth falls open for the sheer simple brilliancy of that position, of that idea, the brilliancy of his boyfriend, because this is fucking brilliant, Kurt is and...

"How do you usually do this...?" Kurt's words are right next to Blaine's ear, whispering across shivering skin, and Blaine can feel the muscles in Kurt's forearm work pressed along his front, before Kurt adjusts his grip, tries a twist and a turn of his wrist, watching Blaine's face for a reaction, eyes deep and curious and captivated.

Blaine blinks back at those eyes, blinks back the surge of heat making his gaze glaze over, his own hand at his side caught between them, grabbing at Kurt's hip, at anything he can get a hold of, to get a hold, a grip on that feeling of falling, and the lightness in his head and stomach.

He really hopes Kurt is not expecting him to talk right now in earnest... Because, guh.

How is he supposed to even ever remember what his hand on himself felt like, in the face of the reality of...Kurt's hand, Kurt's soft skin and that tight circle of his fingers, that gentle breathtaking drawn out rhythm of tug and slide and motion and friction...

Well, maybe it is a bit dry, but Blaine doesn't voice it, doesn't want to, because even if he usually uses lube, this is just perfect in it's own right.

So Blaine just nods, keeps nodding, trying to get that across, some of his exhilaration, his being happy to have Kurt keep going at whatever pace Kurt chooses and sees fit.

His own fingers reach out, still, for the sake of movement, want to place themselves above Kurt's. Not to guide, no, to confirm, rather, just to be there, feel the tendons move, anchor this moment in yet another contact shared. To show how much Kurt's touch, his gesture, his initiative and courage is appreciated.

Yet Blaine's fingers curl, fall back onto the covers at the sudden awareness. That this is too good already. That anything more would be too much.

Another twist, a gasp and a final, fractured flash of thought, faint and faraway, but always just around the corner. Can he just lie here and take from Kurt, take what Kurt's giving? Is that is his job, is that how this is supposed to go? But Kurt tightens his grip, and Blaine mind blanks, and then thinking is just gone.

Because Kurt is whispering again into Blaine's ear, mumbling soothing sweet nothings, and although his words never get through to Blaine, his tone does.

And it's so tempting to simply let go and so Blaine does, and Kurt growls, fucking growls at his cheek and it's enough, too much at last.

Mindlessly Blaine looks down only to add a visual to the sensation, regrets it when that word, regret, does really not mean anything right now, and it unhinges, unravels him, Kurt stirring beside him, kissing, nipping, licking at the corner of Blaine's mouth, open and mumbling.

And all too sudden that band pulls tight inside then snaps, and head jerking back into the pillows Blaine comes across his own stomach this time, so soon after that last time. Comes across Kurt's fingers still around him, and there's that strange squishy sound and Blaine doesn't even care.

All about him is coiling, curling around the one syllable in his mind. Kurt. Fuck. Kurt. Okay, maybe two syllables.

Blaine huffs a rough breath that comes out half a whine, swallows, throat knotting, but doesn't take it back, can't. Won't. And then, suddenly, all is loose.

And Blaine can't do anything but to hold on to breathing. Mouth open and gasping. Breathing.

When his vision clears, it is Kurt's lopsided grin that it centers, settles on.

Blaine blinks, returns the smile out of reflex while his focus grows wider and completes the picture with Kurt's shoulders that are drawn up, still taut. Yet there is no contradiction to the flushed glow of Kurt's complexion and yes, the effortless smile radiating from his his eyes. It all comes together to create something new, and damn Kurt looks beautiful.

Blaine's look is pulled down to where Kurt's heel of hand is pressed against cotton, his hand on his still hard erection vibrating to his pinkie finger with the strain. And just with that, the notion, the strung-tight energy leaps over to Blaine so easily, that he thinks his insides hum with it.

Something in his chest hitches and Blaine's eyes shoot up again to lock with grey-green ones, dark now and shining. Kurt's so close and half above Blaine, hovering, so near next to him they're breathing onto each other's faces, and suddenly a feel of need takes Blaine whole, an overwhelming want to get Kurt even closer, impossibly closer, just further and more, get him under his very skin, swallowing Kurt's heat, his scent...

Blaine leans in and presses, rubs his face against a trembling cheek, then pulls Kurt into a slow, deep kiss, brimming, spilling over with so much promise. Hands reach, kneading at Kurt's hip, all about Blaine so eager to reciprocate, to feel a last, for real, and, god... see...

"Blaaaine? Kuuurt?"

Faces fall, teeth clicking together, when their kiss stumbles to a halt.

A groan gets stuck in Blaine's throat.

Wow. Just. Really, now?

He sinks back onto the bed and Kurt's form freezes, bent above him. Not jerking, jumbling back this time, just pressing his eyes shut, frame hardening.

"Boys, it's been a quick one..."

The breath Kurt lets out could have been a gasp or a snort, and it falls cool onto the thin layer of sweat covering Blaine's skin.

His mom's voice, still from downstairs, short of tips, topples over with almost too oblivious cheerfulness: "So, anyway, I'm back already, so if you want, we can eat now...?"

There's an awkward pause, in which they can't but stare at each other and the flushed states of both their cheeks, necks and ears, brains and bodies ever so reluctant in trying to catch up. To move.

"Boys? You comin'?" They hear heels on stairs, and now Blaine's does scramble to an upright position, so sudden Kurt has to dodge to not have their foreheads collide.

Blaine smirks apologetically, but this time doesn't think further, just shouts right from the bed, voice cracking, but loud in both their ears:

"Yeah, be down in a minute!"

His hands clasp, pat around for something without a plan, the faint feeling of nakedness surfacing too suddenly, pants still bunching at his thighs, other clothes out of reach. Kurt's growl stops him in his mindless motion, though:

"Yeah, that might take a minute to get down."

Blaine's look drops. Oh.

"Oh, Kurt!"

It comes out breaking at the edges with far more pity than Blaine intended, but his heart sinks at the sight of Kurt's tight grip, white fingers splayed over the fabric stretching across his thigh.

Kurt's laugh is shaky, as he waves it off: "No. It's okay. It kind of was my risk, I knew we had only half an hour, so..." He rubs his knee absently as if for distraction, taking in a deep breath.

"Kurt..." Blaine inches closer, reaches out. Not to take care of things, no - come on, no!- and he doesn't think Kurt understood it that way, but still his boyfriend wiggles away from his implied embrace with another breath of laughter: "Blaine, it's alright, really."

Kurt's eyes meet Blaine's, radiating honesty. Blaine still narrows his eyes, but Kurt is having none of it:

"Blaine. Really, stop. Don't look at me with so much pity, I got my share of wonderful experiences today, you can't argue with that. And... I wouldn't want to rush this, anyway..."

Grey-blue eyes reach out to him with a smile, and Blaine makes to nod, but something in him still catches at the choice of words. He finds himself tilting his head and voicing it again, before he can stop himself: "But...you didn't plan this, though, cutting this close?"

Kurt's brows rise, making Blaine blush and stammer, wishing he would just know when to stop talking sometimes.

"I...I mean, if you're uncomfortable naked, or with me doing this back to you, I would never expect..." It comes out of the haze of his mind, from deep down, somewhere, and Blaine frowns himself upon speaking and hearing the instant worry of his inflection.

He bites his lip. Worry, so uncalled for once more, right now, and he knows it, when he meets Kurt's eyes, and sees something soften in their depth.

Kurt's voice colours with affection, and not with the annoyance that Blaine almost expects for a second:

"Blaine, stop it, I didn't plan, ... gosh, I didn't have the vacant capacities in my mind to strategize, formulate or execute a plan over the last hour... I really..." He falters shortly and Blaine's heart skips a beat for the way Kurt casts down his eyes, as if to find the right words, then looks up to meet Blaine's gaze full on.

"I want that... with you. From you, too."

With that Kurt's lashes flutter again, but he blushes only slightly, searching out Blaine's eyes once more. And he waits another second for the truth of his words and all that he pours into their connection to sink in. Waits for Blaine to smile, a little bashfully, and nod at last, with lowered lashes.

Then Kurt's tone sobers up: "Okay, with that out of the way..." He generously rolls his eyes.

"Now tell me about your date with Rachel back then, describe what she wore."

Blaine's brows bunch. "What?" He stares blankly.

Kurt's snickers, and his mock impatient glare can't, won't disguise his amusement:

"Well, what, dummy, I need to cool off!"

He huffs, hands fanning his cheeks theatrically, and Blaine lowers his eyes to stifle a grin.

Failing utterly. He bites his bottom lip, and shakes his head to himself, laughing. He sees Kurt cock his chin at him from the corner of his eye:

"Oh and, Blaine?"

Blaine looks up. Kurt sounds like subdued laughter as well, yet he is throwing him another measured glare of attitude, his features wearing that well-rehearsed mask of annoyance:

"It might as well be helpful if you put some clothes on, thank you."

Blaine's look drops. Oh. Right.

He feels his cheeks flush deeply up to his ears.

And only then Kurt gives in and lets Blaine's broad smile be mirrored on his face.