“Come back. You’re warm,” he says.

Kurt walks to the counter and picks up the shirt Blaine had so carefully draped, folding it into a neat pile. Leaning down, he grabs his bag and hauls it up, pulling out a plain heather gray v-neck and sliding it over his head. He places the other shirt in the bag in its place and turns on the spot, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed against his chest.

“We have to go outside. You’re the one who wanted to come to this party in the first place, you know.”

Blaine keeps sulking from his place on the floor. “What if I apologized for my horrible lapse in judgment and said I had changed my mind and that we should just go home?”

With a chuckle, Kurt replies, “But everyone already knows we’re here. And I didn’t spend 40 minutes at home making sure every inch of me was covered in sunscreen for nothing, Blaine.”

“Speaking of all that sunscreen, why the shirt?” he asks as he pushes himself into a standing position.

“Because unlike some people,” he begins, turning around to face the mirror again, “I believe in skin protection. In case you haven’t noticed, I happen to be a particularly pale species of the human race. I burn easily.”

Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist, hooking his chin over his shoulder and holding him close. “I have noticed. I happen to like your skin tone, you know. You should show it off more.”

Kurt leans back into his embrace as he digs through his bag, pulling out a smaller bag full of hair products. “You’re just saying that because you want to ogle me while we’re outside.”

“Well, that isn’t untrue, but I do also just happen to find you incredibly beautiful, you know. There’s not always a hidden agenda.”

Finally finding what he was looking for in the smaller bag – a comb – Kurt extracts himself from Blaine’s embrace, kissing him on his cheek as he threatens yet another pout. “You’re sweet. But I need my arms.”

“Fine, fine,” Blaine replies, his smile evident in his voice. He walks back over to his clothes and folds them, watching as Kurt wets the comb down and runs it through his hair, attempting to tame the mess Blaine and all his tugging made.

With a smirk, Blaine leans against the door, his folded clothes under his arm. “You look utterly debauched, Kurt Hummel. Red, swollen lips, messy hair, sex flush…”

Kurt turns quickly and gives him his best bitch glare. “I am well aware of that fact, Blaine.” But after a second, his face softens, laughter bubbling up from his chest. “You look pretty thoroughly fucked yourself. We’re a mess.”

“They already know what we were up to. Why try so hard to fix it?”

He just rolls his eyes. “Do you want Santana and Puck jumping on us as soon as we walk outside?”

Blaine just raises an eyebrow in response. “They’re going to anyway, you know. No matter if you cover it up or not.”

Kurt studies his reflection and sighs. “That’s as good as it’s going to get without some product. And I suppose you’re right.”

“Product? Are you really not planning on getting wet at all?”

“Not really, no.”

Blaine’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. Kurt slides the last of their things into his bag, grabbing Blaine’s clothes from him to put them in it as well, and finally, they exit the small bathroom.

Kurt laces his fingers with Blaine’s and they quickly drop their things off in the guest room. With a deep breath, Kurt pulls the door to the back porch open and they step outside into the blinding sunlight.

The reactions are immediate.

“About damn time you two graced us with your presence,” Puck calls, shooting a rubber ball through a basketball hoop hanging over the side of the pool. “Have fun?”

Finn splashes him. “Dude, that’s my brother.”

“Yeah, and your brother just had sex in your girlfriend’s bathroom. Look at him.”

“I’m good, thanks.” Needless to say, Finn avoids eye contact with him for a while after that.

Kurt just rolls his eyes, ignoring all the comments, and pulls a lounge chair up by Mercedes and Tina, who appear to be the only two other people not interested in getting wet. He lies down, stretching out with a slight groan as his back pops, and pulls a pair of sunglasses down over his eyes.

“Seems like you’ve had a fun afternoon,” Tina says, her lips pursed together to hold in the laugh threatening to spill out.

“Can we not talk about it?”

Mercedes jumps in, scooting her chair in closer to Kurt’s. “Not a chance. Now spill.”

Blaine leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head. “Gonna go join the guys for pool basketball. You good here?”

Kurt looks up at him and smiles, nodding. “Yep. Have fun. Beat them all for me.”

He grins, throwing him a wink. “You bet. Love you.”

“You too,” he calls after him. Mercedes and Tina ‘aww’ appreciatively.

“You guys are so cute. I wish Sam acted like that with me.”

Kurt jumps at the change in topic. Anything to get them off his sex life. He pushes his sunglasses slightly down his nose, looking at Mercedes over them. “Does he not?”

“I don’t think any of us are as lovey as you two,” Tina quips. “You can’t even keep your eyes off him.”

Kurt tears his eyes away from the pool, having just watched Blaine dive in and resurface, shaking his hair out with a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm, of course you don’t,” Mercedes says, laughing. “But really, you two are more legit than any of us, I think.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Mike and Tina here have us beat for longest lasting couple.”

Tina smiles softly. “That’s only because we met before you two, I bet.”

A cheer erupts from the pool, and all three of them turn to see what the fuss is all about. Mike and Blaine exchange a high five as Puck sends a wave of water crashing into Finn’s face.

“Dude, how did you not block that? He’s like a foot shorter than you!”

Finn replies indignantly, “It’s hard to move fast in water, okay? I couldn’t get there in time! What about you? I thought you were supposed to be on Mike.”

“We agreed that I’d block Sam.”

Artie floats by on a mat, nodding. “It’s true. You told him to watch Trouty Mouth over there.”

Puck and Finn keep shouting at each other for a while, getting close to each other’s faces. They playfully shove each other, splashing water in each other’s faces and pushing down on their shoulders, trying to dunk each other.

Santana stops filing her nails, glaring at them over her sunglasses. “Could you keep it down, Dumb and Dumber? I’m trying to gets my tan on.”

Puck ignores her and rounds on Finn again. “Fine, no more basketball. I challenge you to a game of chicken. Winner takes all.”