Kurt was feeling very apprehensive as he entered his coach's office; his stomach plummeted when he saw that Blaine was sitting in one of the two chairs before her desk, his head in his hands. Something bad was about to happen. Somethingverybad. He stood in the doorway, awaiting Coach Sue's instructions as she took a seat, her hands toying with the remote that went with the petite television sitting on her desk.

"Sit," she commanded, and Kurt did so, wondering why his chair was at such an unusually far distance from Blaine's. He couldn't bring himself to look at Blaine; he kept his eyes trained on the pink smoothie in front of him that Coach always carried with her. It was the only thing he could focus on without wanting to throw up—actually, that also made him want to throw up, as the mysterious substance kind of freaked him out.

Sue Sylvester leaned over on her desk and stared at the two boys, her eyes narrowing slightly as she smiled wickedly.

"Yes, the seats you are in are exactly eight yards apart: I did some research and apparently that's how far you need to be so your pheromones don't get you two started." Kurt's jaw nearly fell to the floor, and Blaine coughed next to him in shock.So that's why we're here; oh God, did Quinn spill? She probably did, that bitch."Of course I know you're together. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. All I needed was a slight, slight curiosity to know what you were doing during your Wednesday practices, as I noticed that Lady Hummel's feet were a little off their mark in the starting position of the first Nationals number. All I needed...were these." Coach Sylvester produced a few VHS tapes from inside of her desk, and Kurt sank in his chair.Oh my God. How could we forget?He never felt stupider in his life. "I have nearly every square inch of this school bugged, with the exception of the bathrooms and locker rooms, as I have no interest in what goes on in there. I wanted Porcelain to work on his tumbling; he only got a vigorous workout on his lips and...ugh,other places." She turned on the television, which showed the blurry black-and-white outline of Kurt and Blaine's bodies pressed together against the wall. Kurt wished that he had a pen and paper so he could write his suicide note, if he wasn't going to die in that moment. It would be such an odd headline in the paper: "Lima Teen Literally Dies of Embarrassment.""I am absolutely repulsed and ashamed. You see that mat you two were canoodling on?" She pointed to the dark mat on the screen, where Kurt watched as Blaine straddled him—Oh God, I'm going to get kicked off of the Cheerios for making out with the captain, this is going to be my legacy—"I had to have that power-washed two times over the break, as I was afraid your raging hormones got all over it. Yes, it was undeniable that you two had chemistry; although I am incapable of feeling it (as no one else is worthy of me), I can see it. I was sure that this antisocial jackass of a captain-" she pointed at Blaine, whose thick eyebrows knitted together in frustration, "—would prevent anything from happening, since Twinkle Toes seems so precious and innocent. I had young Burt Reynolds film you at that one practice because I knew he would be an insufferable jerk to you—I never suspected that Porcelina would turn him soft, and that my wonder gay would corrupt him. I have to say, Anderson, I expected better of you. It seemed that you'd be my protégé—not anymore. I guess I'll have to give Quinn and Santana more training." She paused and took a long swig of her smoothie; Blaine took it as his cue to speak.

"So does that mean...does that mean I'm not the captain anymore?" He asked timidly, and much to their combined surprise, she shook his head.

"Nope; I need my top gays on the team, and while I'm mortified by your behavior, I still need Anderson as my captain. He's the best tumbler in the tri-state area and I can't afford to lose him.

"Stupidity does have its repercussions, though. As your punishment, you two will perform a number together at Nationals. I hate to admit it, but Glee is helping with your singing, and the judges thrive on musical performances for whatever reason—they just fill me with ire and give me terrible migraines. I hear that you two are among the top singers in Schuester's loser collection, so I can use that and your acrobatic abilities to secure the win. That means that you two have to focus more on practicing than giving each other orgasms." Kurt's cheeks flared again.

"How is that a punishment?" Blaine asked; he seemed to be very pleased with the idea. Kurt, however, had a harrowing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"You don't have much time to prepare at all, and I haven't even come up with the choreography yet. This number is happening no matter what, so it's up to you two to prove that we can win seven years in a row. And if you two put atoeon the line, youwillregret it. You know what line I'm referring to," she fast-forwarded the video so it showed their post-workout make-out session from the week before, where Blaine was furiously attacking Kurt's neck. Even in the awful quality of the film, Kurt's face was vividly screwed up in pleasure.

"Disgusting," she spat, and threw a few papers and Kurt and Blaine, who caught them. "Now take these passes and get out of my sight. I'll see you two at practice." They scrambled out of their seats and ran out of the door, grateful to finally be out of her discerning gaze.

"That was probably the most embarrassing moment of my entire life," Kurt groaned as they made their way down the empty hallway. Blaine surprised him by lacing their fingers together as they walked towards Blaine's classroom (he had Health instead of gym that quarter; he had complained to Kurt for the past week about how sexual education was completely one-sided). He wanted to protest against the PDA, but remembered that no one could see them, so he continued to grip onto Blaine's warm hand.

"Expect to stay in the locker room a little longer than usual; we need to talk," he insinuated as Kurt raised an eyebrow. Before he could say anything more, he quickly squeezed Kurt's hand and walked into the room. Kurt watched the door close behind him and then continued on to the gym, going over what they might discuss in his head.

The rest of the day went rather quickly: Rachel threatened to lock him in the girls' bathroom until he told her why he was twenty minutes late to gym. He simply said that Coach got kind of pissed off at them, as she usually did with random members of the Cheerios, and announced that they were performing a duet at Nationals. Rachel squealed at the news and congratulated him, but all Kurt could feel was an immense amount of pressure and anxiety. He was going to be showcased at his first major cheerleading competitionever.

Kurt felt as if he floated around to his classrooms like a ghost, praying that Cheerios practice would come soon so maybe Coach would give him at least a hint as to what the duet would be. He was also restless in trying to figure out what exactly Blaine wanted to discuss: he hoped it was about their pending performance and how they would go about practicing it.

Finally he found himself at Cheerios practice—the squad had the gym all to themselves (practices had been moved indoors as it was too cold to go outside), and Coach Sylvester was taking full advantage of it. Kurt figured that she still harbored pent-up anger from before, as she was being absolutely malicious. They were at their last water break; Blaine winked at him from across the room as he brought his water bottle to his lips. Kurt gave him a weak smile and set down his water to go join a few of the other girls and Coach in the center of the gym.

"Today washorrible!" She yelled into her beloved megaphone (although she didn't need to use it, as she was right in front of them) while the rest of the Cheerios congregated on the mat. "If you want to get to Nationals you're going to have to work three times as hard! So now you're going to have to do three times as many push-ups as our usual twenty to close practice—stop groaning; it's only sixty! I want my two boys up at the front leading all of you, as they are going to be doing our musical number at Nationals. That's right, ladies and gays, our favorite flamers are going to be showcased at our biggest event of the year. If you've got a problem, you can drop down right now and do quadruple the amount of pushes. Are we good? Okay, get up there." She pointed at Kurt and Blaine, who were on opposite sides of the mat. They got up and did as they were told.

"All right, girls, hands and knees," Blaine said as he dropped down to the ground; Kurt followed suit as someone who sounded suspiciously like Santana shouted "I bet he tells you to do that a lot, Lady!" Kurt grimaced, but ignored her—he looked at Blaine, who was shaking his head. "...and now push your legs behind you, and down—one—two—three..." he launched right into counting as he pushed up and down; Kurt struggled to keep up, considering that he was going at a rapid pace.

After what seemed like forever, Blaine uttered a final "sixty" and lowered himself one last time. Kurt's arms wobbled as he lifted himself back up—many girls were lying on the mat, completely fatigued.

Coach called Blaine over and dismissed the rest of the Cheerios. Kurt headed in the opposite direction of the girls to the boys' locker room; he wished that he didn't have to have what he supposed was a serious conversation with Blaine while they were so tired and sweaty. He glanced back at Blaine, who was staring intently at a clipboard that Coach was holding—he assumed that Blaine would be gone for a while, so he could take a quick shower. He entered the locker room and walked straight towards the showers, grabbing a towel on his way there. He set down his bag, took out some soap, and began to strip down until he was completely nude. Goosebumps rose on his white skin at the obnoxiously high air conditioning as he threw his towel over the wall that separated him from the other stall and set his clothes down outside of the stall. A piping hot blast of water jetted out from the shower head when he turned it on, licking his skin like tongues of fire, and immediately turned freezing cold: Kurt tinkered with the temperature until it was just right (a little on the warm side).

He hummed a few show tunes as he rubbed the grime from his body, and then gave in to belting out "For Good"—it was impossible for him to resistWicked. The sweat slowly washed from his body as he stood under the pathetic stream of water. Regardless, it was completely refreshing, as he felt energy return to his tired muscles.

Kurt nearly slipped and fell when he heard the shower next to him turn on.

"You should get more solos in Glee, you know, you're really good," Blaine said as he adjusted the shower head. Kurt was grateful that the walls separating them were too high for them to see below their chests, as Blaine would be able to see that Kurt was getting hard. How could he not when his very attractive boyfriend was very naked next to him?

"Thanks," Kurt replied, and stole a glance at Blaine's profile: his eyes were closed as he tilted his head back, letting the water hit him straight on his chest. Kurt let his eyes linger a bit, absorbing the sight of Blaine's wet curls sticking to his forehead, the droplets of water coursing down his chin; the way his pecs glistened in the crap lighting; his—

"You're staring, Kurt."Shit. Kurt flicked his eyes up to see Blaine gazing at him with his lips curled into a smug smile, his gold eyes (is it even possible for someone to have that eye color; literally the shade of fine jewelry?) dancing as they bore into Kurt's.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and dropped his head so he was staring at his feet. He turned the cold knob a few notches, hoping that it would help him cool down.No staring allowed. Just try to focus."So, you wanted to talk?" He made the mistake of looking up again; Blaine's arms were splayed across Kurt's towel, his head resting on them.Fuck.

Blaine sighed and traced circles into the fabric with his forefinger. "Is it okay if I get this shower over and done with first?"

"I can help you with that," Kurt said lowly, the words escaping from his lips. He only meant to think them, but of course they had to slip. Blaine's finger paused as he stared up at Kurt.

"Kurt...you do realize that I'm not really in the most appropriate state right now." He stated lowly.

"I know that...remember that Coach doesn't have this place bugged, and...I kind of miss...the physical aspect of our relationship. Who knows when we'll be able to, um, fool around again?"

Blaine pursed his lips. "I don't want to pressure you into anything, but...you do have a point. I miss it too. I miss it a lot, actually."

"You'rethe one who wanted to stop," Kurt warned him teasingly. God, he wanted to go over there and throw himself at Blaine and make up for all of the lost time—

"Yeah, yeah...maybe we can ignore that for now. What do you define as 'helping me' shower?"

"I can...hold on," Kurt grabbed his liquid soap and turned off his shower. He crept around the corner and beheld the sight of a naked Blaine from behind for the first time. Kurt himself felt very bare in that moment, a gentle flush overcoming him as he tried to somewhat cover himself before Blaine turned around. The momentary embarrassment was well worth the sight before him, though: his provocative dream from nearly three months prior hardly did Blaine's sinewy back and ass justice.

Blaine turned around slightly, his mouth forming into a comical "o" shape; his eyes conspicuously swept over Kurt's nudity. The single stream of water continued to flow in silence. They looked at each other without saying a word for what seemed like ages as goosebumps rose on Kurt's skin once again from being exposed to the harsh air conditioning.

"So...you want to..." Blaine stuttered, finally breaking the silence.

"Here," Kurt said quietly, and stepped into the stall, sighing with relief as the warm steam engulfed him. He opened his soap and poured some into his hands, letting it drizzle on his fingers as he took his time in staring at Blaine's bare back even more. Blaine allowed him to take his time as he lathered the substance, but Kurt could tell that he was getting impatient by the way he kept kneading his quads with his knuckles.

"Oh," Blaine moaned as Kurt placed his hands on his shoulder blades and let his thumbs straddle the sides of his spine, slowly tracing it as he began to grow accustomed the foreign map of Blaine's body. He'd given Rachel massages over the past few years, usually to calm her down before a stressful performance. She always praised him, saying that he was a talented masseuse, but Blaine's back was so different from hers. Unlike with Rachel's back, however, Kurt yearned to explore every inch of Blaine's.

Kurt was careful in making sure that no other part of his body was touching Blaine besides his hands, which were working furiously on a knot he just found in the crevasse of his right shoulder blade. He kept his eyes focused on the muscles rippling under his touch, trying to drown out the sound of Blaine's low moans that only excited him more. He tasted a drop of water that had trickled down his cheek, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he continued to massage the knot.

"Oh my God,Kurt," Blaine grunted as Kurt moved to a new spot in his trapeziuses, immediately attacking yet another knot, "how are you sogoodat this?"

"Years of practice on Rachel," Kurt answered; Blaine arched his back as Kurt worked the muscle even harder. He let his hands travel a bit farther down his back, permitting them drink in his delicious skin and hard sinew and bone underneath. Kurt's fingers traced along the curvature of Blaine's spine, feeling the rigid knobs of his vertebrae. How that backbone worked every day; bending and arching consistently in cheerleading, hunching over school work, curving ever so slightly so he could press his lips against Kurt's...Kurt wondered how it would hold up if Karofsky and his friends decided to target him.

Yet the unyielding ossein concealed beneath a blanket of taut tendons and flesh reminded him of how remarkablystronghe was, how he'd already overcome so many obstacles and could overcome so many more.

"Should I be jealous?" Blaine mumbled as Kurt began to work on his lower back.

"Well, she did propose marriage one," Kurt laughed; Blaine did as well, his body shaking under Kurt's touch. His fingers brushed against softer skin, skin he'd never touched on another person before, and he paused, waiting for a response from Blaine.

"You...you can, if you want," he stated quietly. It was incredibly tempting, but Kurt had visions of them going too far, farther than he wanted to go in the boys' locker room...

There was, however, one thing he wanted to try. It was a fantasy he'd never expected to obtain, and yet...

"Can we just kiss a little bit?" Kurt implored, his hands resting on Blaine's hips. "I want to make you feel good."

"But you already-" Kurt turned Blaine around and kissed his wet, divine lips.

"Shut up and trust me," he murmured, and Blaine hummed against him in agreement. Kurt's hands pressed into the dimples of Blaine's lower back, their wet hips nearly touching as they kissed in the pleasant flow of the shower. There was something about the warm water that seemed to spark a long-dormant desire within the two, and while it seemed to be rather uncouth that they were making out in the shower at school, Kurt figured that they had to live a little—experience things that he might regret later, but for the time being, would feel amazing.

Kurt's right hand shifted from Blaine's back to his hard stomach, and then slid down to his cock, which was standing flush against his body. Blaine growled into Kurt's mouth in pleasure, his teeth grazing against his bottom lip as he took in the sensation. As he continued to stroke him slowly, Kurt felt a hand creeping down his abdomen, but he batted it away.

"This is for you. Remember how I asked you to trust me? I really need it right now," Kurt said as he pushed Blaine against the wall. Blaine jerked his head, giving Kurt a quizzical look that soon turned to utter shock as Kurt got down on his knees.

"Oh my God...Kurt, babe, you don't...do youseriouslywant to do this in the locker room!?" Blaine stammered.

Kurt blushed, looking down at the floor. "I don't know, I always thought this was kind of hot," he muttered. His eyes trailed up from Blaine's feet, to his rounded calves, up the curve of his thighs...

"Do you even know what you're doing, Kurt?" Blaine hissed as Kurt thrust his head forward and kissed the insides of Blaine's thighs in mental preparation. His lips gently caressed the skin, his cheeks brushing against dark hair.

"I asked you to trust me; do you want me to stop?" He looked up at Blaine, his thumbs pressing into the dips of his hip bones.

"No. I mean, yes, I trust you. Wait, I mean, are you sure you want to—oh,you are," Blaine moaned as Kurt gently closed his mouth around the head, held for a second, and then lifted off with a smallpop, his eyes shut.I really just did that. I just did that and Ilikedit.

Kurt languidly shifted his head so he was looking up at Blaine, the stream of water from the shower head coursing down his hunched back. "Is that okay?"

"More than okay," Blaine breathed out, his hands balled up against the damp wall. He blinked water out of his eyes as he stared back down at Kurt. "Are you okay?"

Kurt wiped his mouth. "Yeah, I...I just need to get used to it. Iwantto get used to it. It's just...tell me when you're—when you're close, all right?"

"Sure," He let out another moan, even raunchier than the first as Kurt came close to him again, his breath hot on his cock. He sent his mouth down a second time, taking in a little more than before as his lips adjusted to the size. He repeated the motion at a slow, capricious pace, as he wasn't exactly sure of what he was doing—all he knew was that he was doingsomethingright, based on the low moans and high whines Blaine was emitting. The fact that he was pleasuring his boyfriend so was nearly too much to handle. Water dripped from his hair down his cheekbones, adding to the accumulation of liquid around his lips. Eventually he became dizzy from lack of breath and backed away, coughing a little as he struggled to get a sufficient amount of air into his lungs. Kurt yelped as Blaine's pelvis unexpectedly snapped forward, his dick hitting his cheek.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," Blaine gasped, his hips stilling but his chest rising and falling rapidly. Kurt shook his head and waved his hand, signaling that he was fine. The only thing that really hurt was his own cock, which ached to be touched-he figured that he could give multi-tasking a shot, and wrapped his right hand around himself while his left steadied Blaine's body against the wall as he sunk back down on Blaine. He whimpered, which sounded like a strangled groan on account of his mouth being full, as he finally touched himself, his hand moving at the same pace as his mouth.

Eventually Blaine's fingers entangled themselves in Kurt's hair, grasping onto the strands for what seemed like dear life. He subtly tugged Kurt forward, forcing him to take in a tad more than what his was used to; Kurt's throat closed as he choked a bit, his teeth grazing Blaine's cock, but he was urged on by Blaine's persistent moans.

Just a minute later Blaine was yanking at Kurt's hair. "Stop Kurt, I'm gonna...soon..." Kurt stumbled to his feet, leaving a few sloppy kisses on Blaine's neck as he stabilized his wobbly legs; his knees were sore from kneeling on the linoleum floor for so long. Eventually Blaine's pruned hands found Kurt's cheeks and clutched them tightly: he kissed Kurt harder than ever before and groaned as he tasted his pre-come on his lips. His hands traveled down Kurt's bare stomach, one sliding around his back and the other grabbing his dick as Kurt did the same.

"Fuck, Kurt, you took me in your mouth so well," Blaine growled into his ear, nipping at the lobe, and continued to whisper absolute filth that normally Kurt would find distasteful but only urged him closer to the edge. He gripped Blaine even tighter in his fist, his other hand moving up to grab his sodden curls. Soon Blaine's obscenities turned to nothingness as he dug his head into Kurt's shoulder, gasping into his collarbone as he came against their stomachs. Kurt instantly followed him, stars dancing in front of his eyes as he keened. As they came down from their highs, they slumped against the wall in exhaustion. Blaine grinned down at Kurt, a lethargic glint in his eyes as he stroked Kurt's cheek with his thumb.

"So," he said lowly after a few minutes, once they could finally find their voices.

"So," Kurt croaked, unsure of what to say.

"I...why don't we wash up again and talk about it while we dry off." Kurt nodded in agreement, and they did so, wiping their bodies clean of sweat and other bodily substances yet again. Once they finished, Blaine turned off the shower and rubbed himself dry with his towel; Kurt turned around and did the same, wrapping the cloth around his waist once he finished. He looked at Blaine, who was in the same state as he was.

"How...is that something you'd, erm, like to do again?" He asked shyly. He still couldn't believe he haddonethat. He never even thought he'd get a blow job in at least fiveyears, let alonegiveone. God, did it feel good, even though his jaw kind of ached.

"Excuse my French, but fuck yes!" Blaine answered, smiling widely. "That was...that was great, Kurt. Jesus. But I'd rather treatyounext time. Damn, I owe you a lot."

"Yes, yes, negotiations later. We were supposed to meet in the locker room to talk about important stuff, right?" Kurt reminded him, and Blaine groaned.

"Ugh, we always seem to get a little distracted, don't we? At least we won't get in trouble...anyway, Coach told me what we're singing for our duet. She has a good idea for the routine, and it's not going to be easy."

"What is it?" Kurt asked nervously.

"Four Minutes."

"Madonna? Not bad." Not bad—Kurtworshippedthat song.

Blaine sighed, and Kurt knew something was wrong. "There's another problem..."

"Crap. What is it now?" Kurt groaned.Will the complications ever end?

"Nationals conflicts with Regionals."