Blaine looked up when Kurt and Burt walked into the room. His eyes lingered on Kurt for a moment before he smiled politely and stood up. "I don't think we've been officially introduced," he said, moving forward and extending his hand to Kurt. "I'm Blaine."

Kurt blinked dumbly at him for two seconds before taking the proffered hand. "Kurt," he replied, shaking Blaine's hand firmly, albeit quickly, trying his best to smile and act like he hadn't just been poking around Blaine's Facebook page.

Blaine was really warm, he noticed, and so much more gorgeous in person, especially when he was looking Kurt in the eye like that. Kurt vaguely realized that he'd never actually been face to face with Blaine before. It was a dizzying experience. His leading-man features underneath the slick Stanley Kowalski hair kind of hit Kurt all at once, and he almost took a literal step back.

Blaine's impossibly wide eyes were a deep amber color, dusted with flecks of sage, and were framed by the thickest, longest lashes Kurt had ever seen without the help of cosmetics. His eyebrows were thick and dark, making him look pensive and mysterious and drawing even more attention to his striking eyes. His nose was unassuming, though slightly crooked—which Kurt found rather endearing—and carved a path down Blaine's face to his perfectly bowed, partially open, distractingly pink mouth. Kurt could see a shiny wet tongue peeking out from behind a sliver of teeth, like Blaine had been about to say something but had stopped himself in the process of forming the words.

Kurt forced his eyes back up to Blaine's. It wouldn't be very becoming of him to drool.

He decided that no one should be allowed to be that wholly and casually beautiful; it was unfair. And that was just Blaine's face. Kurt dared not even look down at the rest of him yet.

There was momentary silence while Kurt stared openly at Blaine and Blaine stared back in kind, his eyebrows slightly raised as if asking if something was wrong or if he had offended Kurt in some way in the 30 seconds since they'd introduced themselves.

Yes, your face offended me. It's too perfect. How dare you look at me with it all candid and stunning like that? Rude. Wildly offensive.

But then Blaine's eyes started to take on a tinge of worry and apprehension at Kurt's upset expression, and Kurt silently chastised himself, schooling his features. He was being immature. He didn't actually know anything substantial about this guy, Facebook creeping notwithstanding. His thoughts were entirely uncalled for, and he had no reason to make Blaine feel uncomfortable. It wasn't Blaine's fault that he was attractive on a level that made other people jealous and painfully self-conscious.

Kurt broke eye contact first.

He heard his dad clear his throat beside him. "Right, well, I gotta go, boys," Burt chimed in, effectively (or perhaps not so effectively) ignoring the bizarre moment that passed between his son and this young stranger. Clapping a hand on Kurt's shoulder in what looked like an oft-used gesture, he addressed Blaine. "Make yourself at home, son. Feel free to raid the kitchen if you're hungry, and be sure to give Finn crap when he gets back for making you wait, alright?" He inclined his head at him meaningfully.

Blaine chuckled at that, seemingly at ease once again now that Kurt was no longer gawking or narrowing his eyes at him. "I'll be sure to do that, sir."

"I'm serious, it's the only way the kid'll learn. And don't call me 'sir,'" Burt scolded. "Makes me feel old. Name's Burt. Call me it."

Blaine nodded his acquiescence. "As you say, s-, uh, Burt," he amended.

"Good," Burt said, although he didn't look completely convinced, and turned to Kurt. "See you later, kiddo. I'll have my phone turned on if you need me for anything. I might be a few hours, depending."

"Alright, dad," Kurt said like he was going through the motions. "You should probably go now, though. Mr. Shuester isn't as patient as he lets on."

Burt gave a noncommittal grunt. "Right, right," he said, checking his watch and patting Kurt's shoulder once more. He threw a smile in Blaine's direction and said another goodbye as he rushed out the door and left the two boys standing alone in the living room.

The silence returned.

It only lasted a handful of moments, however, before Blaine was filling it with his voice, which Kurt felt had absolutely no right to sound so velvety. Voices should not make you think of dessert. Or novel surfaces on which to eat dessert. That was just unnecessarily distracting.

"So you're the infamous Kurt Hummel, huh?"

Kurt finally looked back up at Blaine's face after trying to ignore it for the past minute, only just catching what he had said, Kurt's mind elsewhere on thoughts of desserts that would go well with a hint of salt. Blaine was smirking at him, head tilted to the side, seemingly sizing him up.

"Infamous?" Kurt asked, shuffling his feet nervously.

Blaine's smirk widened. "I see you all the time at school," he began lightly, putting his hands in his pockets and turning to meander about the living room, taking in the various portraits and wall decorations. "By the lockers, in the auditorium, at pep rallies, whenever the glee club puts on a performance…"

"You stalking me, Anderson?" Kurt questioned with a frown, though without much heat. It was hard for him to sound affronted when his heart was pitter-pattering excitedly inside his chest. Blaine noticed him?

"You're kind of hard to miss, Kurt," Blaine replied matter-of-factly. "You stand out. Even when you're trying blend in."

The look Blaine gave him was penetrating. It made Kurt feel simultaneously uncomfortable and important, like he was actually being seen and not merely being looked at. Only four people in his life had ever looked at him that way.

Blaine was standing on the other side of the coffee table now, Kurt still by the room's entrance, and Kurt couldn't shake the feeling that there was something very different about Blaine from the other kids he knew—a certain something that perhaps shouldn't exist within this young boy across from him but did anyway. Blaine seemed so much older than he really was, standing there with his hands in the pockets of his mustard corduroys and a slight tension in his eyes as he smirked and made small talk, but Kurt couldn't put his finger on whatever that certain something was.

Kurt thought about what he knew of Blaine. He was a private school transfer, which meant he probably came from a family that was well-off—or at least upwardly mobile. But then why transfer to a public school? Maybe they fell on hard times? No, that wouldn't explain how Blaine could afford a new $900 BB sports jacket or his gorgeous Marc Jacobs shoulder bag. If anything, something terribly tragic had happened that was extremely personal and Blaine was only pretending to be okay. He was a performer, after all, Kurt considered.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that exactly, but okay," Kurt replied, trying not to squirm under Blaine's stare or let on as to how hard he was working at trying to figure Blaine out.

Blaine just shook his head, almost fondly, and turned back to the pictures on the shelves without responding. Kurt was somewhat frustrated with how comfortable Blaine seemed to be in his presence, in his house, when Kurt was all nerves in his own skin. Why did the universe keep throwing Blaine into his life? What was that about? He thought back to his conversation with Tess.

"What's the point of talking about boys if I can't have them?"

"But that's not how it is with Blaine, now is it?"

Kurt swallowed and looked the other boy up and down. Blaine was still inspecting the pictures beside the entertainment center as if they were the most interesting things in the world, mouth open in fascination, eyes shining with wonder. His fitted mauve polo rose up a little when he reached out to pick up one of the frames, revealing a strip of olive skin underneath the hem on his right side. Kurt could see part of a dimple at the small of Blaine's back peeking out from beneath the fabric. He bit his lip to ensure that no involuntary whimpers escaped his mouth.

He really needed to have a talk with the universe about this.

The photo that Blaine had reached out to was one of Kurt and his dad at what looked like a family barbecue, their eyes squinting in the sunlight as they smiled at the camera.

"This is a great photo of you guys," Blaine commented, glancing back at Kurt. "Family get-together?"

Kurt walked over to see which picture Blaine was talking about, making sure to keep at least two feet of distance between them, mostly for his own sake. Personal space was something he treasured and didn't give up lightly. He found that good things rarely happened when someone was in his personal space.

He stood beside Blaine at an angle as Blaine held the frame out so they could both look at it. Even Blaine's arm was gorgeous, Kurt thought distractedly. And he smelled really nice, too. Like nutmeg and sage, and something else. Sandalwood? No, that wasn't it. It was muskier than that. Kurt had no idea what the scent was, but it smelled wonderful and he kind of wished he could bottle it up.

Wow, that's not creepy at all. Quit while you're ahead, Grenouille. He shook his head ever so slightly in an attempt to get rid of his thoughts. Blaine didn't seem to notice.

"Oh yeah," Kurt confirmed, looking over the picture with a smile, his shoulders relaxing as he remembered when it was taken. "That's from when my dad's sister and her kids flew in from Virginia for Memorial Day weekend. I spent all four days standing over a barbecue pit because no one else seemed to know how to grill anything other than burgers and hotdogs. I mean, sure, my grilled crab legs were amazing, if I do say so myself, but my skin still has yet to recover from all the smoke and sunshine, even though it's been months."

"I think your skin looks great," Blaine replied genuinely, gliding his eyes over Kurt's face as if to prove that he couldn't find any trace of a blemish.

Kurt raised his eyebrows faintly at that, blushing fiercely. "Um, th-thank you," he stuttered, not sure what to say. "I have a very strict skin care routine."

He cringed inwardly. Really? That's really what he chose to say? He could've responded with anything—something complimentary maybe, like, "Your skin looks great, too" or "That's sweet of you to say" or "You really are too kind"—but no. No, instead, he responded with: "I have a very strict skin care routine." Geez, could he sound any more anal and vain?

"It shows," Blaine said simply.

For a second Kurt was confused, thinking Blaine meant it was obvious that Kurt was anal and vain, but then he remembered—"strict skin care routine." Blaine was complimenting his skin again.

Oh. Okay then.

"I'll have to try those legs sometime, though. They sound delicious."

Now Kurt really wasn't sure what to say. Instead, he sort of just gaped at Blaine. He was a little perplexed at the exchange. Was that an innuendo? Was Blaine flirting with him? Was he simply making polite conversation? What was happening here? He was looking at Kurt again in that way that said he was paying attention. Did that mean something? Was Kurt simply not used to people who were genuine and nice?

"He doesn't look at girls."

Kurt swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. It probably didn't mean anything. Probably.

The silences between them were starting to become a trend.

"Gosh, where are my manners?" Kurt said abruptly and perhaps a smidge too loudly, causing Blaine to jump. "Would you like something to drink, Blaine?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. That'd be great," Blaine said, his weighted gaze lightening as he blinked in surprise at Kurt's sudden burst of etiquette. "Should I just follow you to the kitchen, or…?"

"Oh, um, if you want to. There's a breakfast bar you could sit at while I pour us some drinks."

Blaine liked that idea better than loitering around the living room, and so he put the picture frame back in its place and the two made their way to the large, well-lit kitchen. Kurt busied himself with their drinks—hot tea for himself and orange juice for Blaine—as Blaine settled on a barstool.

Kurt handed him a full glass and quirked his eyebrow in amusement at the plain excitement on Blaine's face. It was akin to the enthusiasm of a child.

"I take it you really like orange juice?" Kurt laughed lightly as Blaine quickly drank down half of the glass while Kurt sipped his tea elegantly.

Blaine placed his drink down, nodding with that crooked smirk that Kurt was starting to get used to. "I really really do," Blaine said, licking the liquid off his lips. Kurt's eyes flicked down to them briefly before going back up to Blaine's eyes. "Apple juice is my favorite," Blaine continued. "But I'm not picky; I like most fruit juice. I like most fruit, really. Anything fruity. Fruity is good. I always go for fruity."

"Fruity, huh?"

"Yup, fruity."

Kurt swore that he did not giggle at Blaine. Surely it was more of a chuckle, if that. It wasn't like he was smitten or anything, it was just that this was not the sort of conversation he ever imagined himself having with Blaine Anderson. He always figured Blaine would lean more towards serious and thought-provoking topics, like politics or art or the environment or something. He looked like the type to talk about the merits of recycling. Instead there he sat in Kurt's kitchen, gulping orange juice and rambling on about how fruits were tasty. Kurt shook his head, chuckling (not giggling). "Adorable."

It was Blaine's turn to raise his eyebrows. "You think I'm adorable?" he asked after a moment.

Kurt blinked. "What?"

Blaine squinted at Kurt, a smirk once again painted across his face, and leaned forward with his elbows on the bar. "You said, 'adorable,' Kurt," he explained. "You laughed, you looked at me, you shook your head, and then you said, 'adorable.' You think I'm adorable?"

Kurt could feel his heartbeat speeding up. Oh god, he'd said that out loud—he hadn't realized. Oh no.

"What? I did not say that—"

"—Yes you did! You think I'm adorable!"

Blaine looked like he'd just won the biggest, fluffiest stuffed animal at the fair. He was smiling hugely, his eyes sparkling with mirth and amusement, and he was bouncing lightly in his seat. Where the heck had old-man Blaine gone? What happened to the polished boy with untold stories in his eyes? The person across the counter from Kurt now was more like an excited puppy.

"I—" Kurt began, but his words were cut short by the front door suddenly slamming open and closed, followed by the sound of something heavy—a bag, maybe—being dropped onto the floor in the receiving room. Seeing as Kurt had no idea what he had been about to say anyway, he didn't really mind the interruption.

Heavy footfall announced Finn's approach as he plodded through the living room on his way to the kitchen, which was, of course, always the first room he visited once he got home.

"Oh! Hey, guys," he said upon entering the space and spotting Kurt and Blaine. "Dude, Blaine, I'm sooo sorry I'm late! There was this lady at the shop and she didn't trust that I'd put her tires on right. Like, she said she didn't see me tighten the lug nuts 'cause she'd gone to the bathroom or something while I finished up with the tires and she insisted that she needed to watch me do it or else she wouldn't get in the car 'cause she didn't trust me and so she made me take all of the nuts off the tires and put them on again and then she scolded me afterwards because she didn't like how I handled the stud gun or whatever, and oh my god, I could not get her to go away fast enough! But anyway, that's why I'm late. I'm so sorry, man."

Finn was huffing by the end of his tirade, clearly still annoyed about the finicky customer and how she had made him late. Kurt decided that maybe it wasn't the best time to point out that Finn needed to take his boots off because he was tracking engine oil into the house.

"Nah, it's cool," Blaine said, draining his glass and standing up to clasp hands with Finn in that bro way that Kurt never really understood. "Kurt kept me company. Apparently he's the grill master in this house? He told me about the crab legs."

Finn's face lit up. "The crab legs!" he exclaimed with a longing expression. "Man, Kurt, you need to make those again! I didn't even know I liked seafood until you made me try them. And that duck thing…"

"Duck à l'orange," Kurt provided.

"Yeah, that! Oh my god, dude. Seriously, we need to do that again. That was awesome. Maybe we could do something soon before the weather gets too cold? You could invite Tess, and I could bring Rachel and—"

"—Dear god, no," Kurt interrupted. "I cannot stand Rachel, Finn. You know that."

"She's really not so bad once you get to know her," Finn insisted. "I know her personality is kind of…"

"Self-interested and abrasive?"

"Oh, shut up, man, like you're one to judge."

The mood in the room quickly changed.

Finn's eyes went wide, as if he realized he shouldn't have said that once the words left his mouth. Blaine just remained silent and still beside his seat.

"Excuse me?" Kurt asked, his voice lowering, daring Finn to go on.

He could hear when Finn gulped. "It's just that, um – what I was trying to say was—" he stumbled over his words. "What – what I mean is that, well, you're kind of a bitch, Kurt."

Kurt put his tea down and moved into a threatening stance, crossing his arms over his chest and staring up at Finn. He could feel the blood heating his face, and in his periphery he could see Blaine shifting uncomfortably.

"But!" Finn continued quickly before Kurt could attack him. "But, really you're not a bitch."

Huh? Now Kurt was confused as well as upset. "Finn, I'm either a bitch or I'm not a bitch. Which is it?" He really didn't have time for this. Couldn't Finn just explain or shut up? Blaine was right there hearing this.

"No, it's—" Finn let out a frustrated sigh, trying to make sense. "It's like, you act like a bitch to people, but actually you're not a bitch. Really, you're a pretty cool dude and you care about people and you're, like, thoughtful all the time, but being a bitch is like your armor or something. But that's not really who you are."

Kurt frowned at him. Okay…

"And like you, Rachel has more to her than what people see," Finn finished.

"Are you telling me I should give Rachel a chance because she's more than just a self-absorbed, loud, annoying little diva who can't ever seem to shut up?"

Blaine snickered quietly, which made Kurt smile.

"Um, yeah," Finn replied, looking like he hoped he wasn't in too much trouble.

Kurt just sighed. "Fine," he said and Finn started shaking his fists excitedly and jumping up and down, reminding Kurt of how Blaine had reacted a few minutes ago to Kurt calling him adorable. Kurt cleared his dry throat. Christ, was he getting sick? His throat kept going dry all day.

"Fine," he said again. "Whatever, I'll give Rachel a chance. And if you really want to do the barbecue thing, then you're the one responsible for asking dad and Carole's permission for it."

Finn was nodding enthusiastically. "Whatever you want, dude," he smiled. "Thanks, Kurt. It's just I want you and Rachel to get along because, you know, she's my girlfriend and you're my brother, and it would mean a lot to me if you guys liked each other."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's not get carried away here. I'm gonna try to be civil, Finn, I really am, but I don't know that I could ever like Rachel. Don't ask for more than I can give."

Finn raised his hands in surrender, and Blaine let out the laugh he had been holding in. "You two are ridiculous," Blaine said, grinning at the both of them.

Kurt didn't want to think about the unpleasant feeling that flared in his stomach when he saw Blaine smile at Finn, so instead he ignored it and picked up his mug of tea. "Anyway," he said, moving to the entryway. "I'm going back to my room now so you guys can do whatever glee thing it is that you need to do. Finn – please take off your dirty shoes, you're ruining the floor." Finn had the decency to look apologetic. "And Blaine, it was nice to finally meet you. I guess I'll be seeing you at school, where you may or may not be stalking me."

Blaine gave him his signature smirk, and Finn looked confused but didn't say anything.

Kurt saluted them as he left the kitchen and headed towards his room, smiling to himself and wondering about the day he was having.