On Thursday night, Kurt changed into his pyjamas, collected up his pillow and blanket, and snuck down the hall to Blaine's room. Blaine still hadn't told Kurt why he had to keep Thursday night free, or why indeed he had to wear his pyjamas and sneak into Blaine's room the night before Regionals, but Kurt had done as was asked of him. Apparently Blaine's roommate was interstate for a family wedding, and would be until Sunday; that was all Kurt had been told on the matter.

Having reached Blaine's door, Kurt tapped gently on the dark-stained wood. He waited, but didn't receive a response, and hearing music coming from within the room, decided to let himself in.

He stopped in the doorway, mouth open, trying very hard not to laugh. Blaine's hair was in curly disarray, and was being held back from his face by a tie wrapped around his head that was certainly not a Dalton standard issue. In fact, on closer inspection, Kurt realised it was striped red and gold. Blaine himself was standing on his bed, belting out lyrics in unison with a band playing from his laptop:

I was a teenaged werewolf
Doing the best that I caaaaaan
I wanna hold your hand
But evi-

At that point, Blaine opened his eyes, having turned to face Kurt during the drawn out "can", and stopped rather abruptly. Kurt shut the door carefully, resting his hand on the handle momentarily, before he burst into violent laughter.

'What... on earth... are you doing?' Kurt gasped, clutching at his stomach.

Blaine flashed Kurt another one of those sheepish smiles he was quickly coming to adore. 'Singing. "Teenage Werewolf" by the Remus Lupins.' He quickly pulled the tie off his head and stuffed it into his sock draw.

'The Remus Lupins?' Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow, sitting on the absent roommate's bed.

'Yeah!' Blaine said, his expression brightening again. 'It's actually this one guy, Alex Carpenter, who's a wizard rock band - you know, bands who sing songs about Harry Potter. He's awesome.'

Kurt merely shook his head in fond amusement. Just when he thought he had every layer of Blaine Anderson discovered, he found a new, more ridiculous and childish one hiding underneath.

And damn him if each wasn't more endearing than the last.

'So would you care to explain now why I'm here?' Kurt asked.

'Well, it's Regionals tomorrow,' Blaine said slowly, 'and so I thought tonight we should have a movie night.'

'It's potentially the most important performance the Warblers will do this year, so we should exhaust the lead singer by keeping him up watching movies all night?'

'Exactly!' Blaine agreed brightly, and then laughed at Kurt's sceptical expression. He crossed the room and sat next to Kurt, bumping shoulders playfully and making the taller boy giggle. 'I just figured that maybe if the super confident and experienced lead singer was feeling a bit nervous, then the newest addition to the Warblers might be too... and that maybe we could be nervous together.'

Kurt's heart melted instantly, and he gladly threw himself into watching films with Blaine. However, half way through the second films, Kurt found himself with his head on Blaine's shoulder (the better to see the laptop screen with), quietly explaining the worries about Regionals that plagued him.

'It's just... I love them. They haven't always been there, but I know they care more than anyone. And Finn, he's really come a long way recently. I know what the win would do for him and the club. And I can't not want that for them, you know?' Blaine murmured his understanding. 'But at the same time...'

'You want to be the best you can. And the best you can is good enough to win,' Blaine finished. Kurt nodded, feeling the worn cotton of Blaine's own pyjamas under his cheek.

'I throw everything I am into my performances - there's no hiding on the stage. So when I don't win, it's not just being told that I wasn't talented enough, it's like being told that I wasn't enough.' Barely perceptible, Blaine's hand tightened on Kurt's far arm, where it had settled half an hour ago. Kurt continued, 'But in New Directions, it's not just me throwing myself in - everyone does. And I don't know what it would do to them if they were all told, a second time, that they didn't measure up.'

There was an implication there, an implication about the Warblers and their rules and restraints and their down-to-the-button regulations, but neither Kurt nor Blaine addressed it. They'd been there before, and now wasn't the time.

Blaine realised, despite the seriousness of the conversation, Kurt's eyes were sliding shut. In truth, Blaine's own eyes were getting heavy. He shut the lid of the laptop, placed it on his bedside table, and settled himself and Kurt more comfortably against the mountain of pillows behind them. He absently let his fingertips sift through the hair on the back of Kurt's neck.

'Well, Kurt, either way, I think you win,' he said finally. 'There will be joy in either a Warblers or New Directions victory for you. That's the great thing about having friends - double the chance of winning, because you win whenever they do.'

'I think you're right,' Kurt murmured. There was a long, sleepy silence, filled with the heavy breathing of two boys on the cusp of dreams. As Kurt's subconscious started to take control, he asked, 'Sing me a lullaby?'

Blaine laughed gently. 'The only lullaby I know is one I heard on So You Think You Can Dance.'

'I don't mind. Sing it to me, please.' Kurt rolled his face slightly, burying it in Blaine's chest.

Blaine sighed, knowing that although Kurt would have ammunition to tease him with in the morning, he had his own in that Kurt had asked for this - twice. He opened his mouth, letting his own subconscious take over, and not think about what he was singing.

The shadows are waltzing
The moon beams are calling
Like a dream I am falling into
Silver threads lined with dew
Twinkling stars seem to shine
Just for you

Behind your eyes
Are endless blue skies
You travel places
I want to come too
Each breath that you breathe is a brush stroke
That leads me to you

So sleep
Fall into night's indigo hue
Believe me, it's true
There's nothing that I would not do
For my dream is sweet dreams for you...

Kurt's last thought before he sunk into sleep was that if Blaine put that much tenderness and honesty into his Warblers performances, they'd be unstoppable.

x

New Directions wasn't even half way through their first number when Blaine realised, sadly, that the Warblers had never stood a chance.

They had performed well, yes - singing at Regionals had been exhilarating, and Blaine had responded with an energy and strength he hadn't known he had. The rest of the group had been fantastic, too, their arrangements and dances impeccable; and when Blaine had thrown his arms around Kurt at the end, he honestly thought they might have this.

But how could an upbeat rendition of "Misery" compare to this? No matter what Kurt had told him about the annoying little brunette and the whirlwind of drama that followed in her wake, he couldn't help but be a little in awe of Rachel. The awe only increased when Kurt whispered, pride in his friends suffusing his face, that New Directions was doing original songs. How could Blaine's choreographed energy complete with Rachel Berry, vocals flying full force, baring her soul onstage? There wasn't a single person in the room who couldn't feel the anguish of her regret and heartbreak.

Everyone was on their feet for the girl, and they barely had time to find their seats again when New Directions burst into a new song that was as upbeat as the first had been moving. Again, it was original, and had clearly come straight from the spirit of the people singing it. Out of nowhere, Kurt was pulling out huge red hands and handing them out, before he leapt to his feet to cheer for his friends. It was the happiest Blaine has seen Kurt in weeks.

As he danced along with the crowd, Blaine properly watched the McKinley glee club for the first time. They really were nothing like the Warblers. His own choir had perfect control - they moved and sung as one body, and it was admirable. But Blaine could see what Kurt had meant about his friends last night - they really did throw themselves into the performance, and the result was a show full of expression. Not a single person up there was afraid to show who they were, and flaunt it. Be it the extra jump Mike threw in, or a line delivered by Santana with extra sass, or a point where Mercedes's voice soared and filled the stage, it was clearly a group of performers bringing out the best in each individual, and the result was that they shone.

Blaine looked back at Kurt, jumping around with that ridiculous hand proudly in the air, and realised, with a pang, exactly how much the boy had sacrificed for safety when he'd transferred to Dalton. Kurt, with all his pride and his suffering and his goddamn resilience, should be up there singing "Loser Like Me" with a smirk on his face like all his friends. Kurt was the most unique person Blaine had ever met, and he expressed himself through music and fashion. To put him in a uniform and tell him to sing and move in the exact manner of the boys around him... it wasn't just caging a bird, it was strangling one.

Feeling a mix of emotions well up that he couldn't hope to identify, Blaine took Kurt's hand while the auditorium was still dark and squeezed hard, not answering the questioning look that earned him. When the rest of the Warblers trooped out onstage to hear the judges' decision, Blaine stopped Kurt for a moment, just behind the curtain. He wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt and buried his face in Kurt's shoulder; Kurt froze for a moment, clearly confused, before slowly returning the hug, bringing one hand to the back of Blaine's head.

When McKinley's win was announced, Kurt jumped, letting go of Blaine's hand to start clapping before he remembered he should be sad. Watching Kurt, Blaine almost forgot to be sad too.

x

The Warblers had a commiseration party in the senior commons that, despite the gloomy atmosphere of the bus, ended up being quite fun - in the Dalton way. Everyone was dressed well in neat button downs and jeans, and no one was too wild, but the food was good, the guys were cheerful and the music was loud.

Blaine had stuck strangely close to Kurt all night, with little explanation. The shorter boy was outgoing as always, flashing charming smiles whenever people spoke to him and consoling fellow Warblers with gentle optimism, but he never really strayed far from Kurt's side. He caught Kurt's eye frequently, and seemed to relax slightly every time that he saw the boy was still there.

Kurt tried to relax and enjoy the evening as much as possible, dancing with the other choir members and making an effort to talk to the people around him. New Directions' win had been a bittersweet one for him. He hadn't really been able to hide how happy he was for his friends (Blaine had been right when he told Kurt that having friends win was like winning himself). But when everyone had piled on a bus to McKinley, chattering excitedly about New York, and Kurt had had to climb onto the bus for Dalton, it had finally really hit him - that wasn't his glee club any more. He wouldn't be going to New York. He had competed with the Warblers; he had practiced, won and lost with them, and finished his journey when they did. It took a win for New Directions for him to realise that he wasn't a part of them any more - even if he still didn't really feel like a part of the Warblers either. But maybe it was time to start trying a little harder, and to appreciate other members of the club besides Blaine.

Not that he could really do that, though, with Blaine standing right in front of him. Lost in his reverie, Kurt had missed it when Blaine stopped keeping near to Kurt, and instead stepped right in front of him. Trailing his eyes from where they had been fixed on the floor up to Blaine's face, it was hard not to stare. The boy was gorgeous in black skinny jeans and an untucked, dove-grey button down, emphasising his clean lines in a way that his uniform couldn't.

'Hey there,' Blaine said. His "charming front man" persona was fully in place, and his smile did something odd in Kurt's stomach. 'You look like you're thinking too hard. And that is most certainly not allowed at a party - even a commiseration party. So I was wondering if you wanted to dance instead.'

It wasn't a question, not from Blaine. Kurt smiled and took Blaine's proffered hand, following him to the dance floor just as Wes took the mic. Kurt glanced at the Councillor with mild curiosity - despite his seniority, Wes rarely performed alone. The thought floated past, though, as the music started, and Blaine tugged him close, putting a hand on Kurt's waist.

Tell me that you want to dance
I want to feel your pulse on mine
Just treat me like a stolen glance
To yourself

The music, despite having a beat, had an almost dreamlike quality to it - wrapped in the atmosphere of the song, Kurt could vividly imagine secret, opulent balls, held in the middle of night by the golden, heady haze of candlelight and incense; and as Blaine pulled him even closer in the swirls of the dance, so close now that their cheeks were almost touching, Blaine's skin took on a golden hue, like he too was a part of the candlelit vision. His eyes turned amber through the haze, sucking Kurt further into the vision, spinning him around the floor...

'Tell me what you were thinking about,' Blaine urged, moving slightly backward to look at Kurt's face, though he still danced. Even Blaine's voice seemed slightly smoother, slightly darker in the flickering light.

A dark shape on a golden floor
A sleeping planet with a molten core
From above we'd cut a slow eight shape
And much more

I'm a peasant in your princess arms
Penniless with only charm
As we're levelled by the low, hot lights
And disarmed

'I...' Kurt faltered. His voice wouldn't work, and his head was spinning. He could feel an intoxicating energy pulsing through Blaine, and in the air around them, enthralling him even as it stopped him. His feet kept moving, almost as if they were being carried by the haze, but nothing else would obey Kurt's command.

'You were thinking about McKinley, weren't you?' Blaine asked, pulling Kurt closer again, chests almost flush together. 'Thinking about being with them?'

Kurt nodded dumbly before he'd even realised. Caught up in Blaine's arms and the bewitching imaginary veil of candlelight and incense drawn across his mind, he had completely lost his own senses, disarmed and ready to bend to the every will of the other boy. Each breath was drawn with a shudder.

'They're all such individuals,' Blaine said quietly. He twisted his head so he was speaking straight into Kurt's ear, his breath burning hot. 'And you deserve to be there with them. But God, Kurt, I can't help it.' His voice dropped to a whisper. 'I want to keep you here to myself.'

Blaine was shuddering too, breathing heavily. Kurt could feel the other boy's eyelashes tremble against the skin just behind his ear, and it almost broke him. The pair were barely moving now, propping each other up, clinging to each other. The world around them had ceased to exist long ago.

'Come...' Blaine stopped, as if it was all too much for him too, like Kurt wasn't the only one choking on feelings he didn't understand, feelings that consumed. 'Come outside with me,' he finally requested. And there would never, never be a time when Kurt could disobey that voice, almost panting into his ear. He followed without a thought.

A storm was coming. Lightning was charging, thunder slowly swelling; the clouds were adding the last few drops to their opening deluge, all preparing to take to the stage in a spectacular opening. Kurt could feel the tension building, stretching the air tight, holding them both on edge; the whole world was waiting for the sky to part like curtains and the storm to begin its show. He was so wired he could hardly move, just waiting, every gasp of air being dragged out of him.

Blaine dragged him into the middle of the gardens just as the rain started to pour, each drop a shock to Kurt's overloaded system. Blaine, stopping and turning to look into Kurt's eyes, could see self-awareness returning to them.

He clutched desperately at Kurt's head with both hands, pressing their foreheads together, already slick with rainwater. 'Don't,' he gasped hoarsely, staring intently at Kurt. 'Don't. Just this once, we have to forget ourselves.' Blaine was trembling as he pressed his mouth to Kurt's, hot and wet. The water was cold, sinking into their hair and their clothes; but their tongues burned when they met, and Kurt painted flames across Blaine's face when he slid his hand over the dripping skin.

The storm raged around them but the boys were lost, sinking to their knees in the grass, pushing their bodies together as their mouths met again and again in kisses that consumed just as much as the feelings did. Each lightning strike lit Kurt's skin up like a star, overbright, and Blaine had to close his eyes and touch instead, hands sliding through soaked hair and down sides and his actions were being mirrored as his hands slid under Kurt's clinging shirt and Kurt's hands blazed up Blaine's torso and God where could this possibly stop, Blaine couldn't breathe and the whole world was spinning...

A thunder clap slashed through the air so loudly that it shook the ground. Kurt gasped and fell backwards slightly, still kneeling in the grass, leaning back on one hand. Blaine jumped to his feet, something still wild in his eyes. He reached down and pulled Kurt to his feet, kissing him again, less passionate and more desperate than the ones before it. His hands frantically stroked down the sides of Kurt's face like he was pleading for something.

And then he broke off and ran, leaving Kurt gasping and bent double in the rain.