Friday, after last period, in the hallways:

Kurt: My dad had the most awkward conversation with me yesterday.

Blaine: Haemorrhoids?

Kurt: Ew. No.

Blaine: You’re lucky.

Kurt: And now thoroughly grossed out.

Blaine: Try having a doctor for a dad. I live in a near constant state of grossed-out-ness. Not the point, however. What did your dad talk to you about?

Kurt: It was… “The Talk”.

Blaine: Oooh, he explained where babies came from?

Kurt: More like, he attempted to see how painfully awkward he could make a situation regarding homosexuality and then he added pamphlets.

Blaine: *laughs* Oh, my god, no!

Kurt: The pamphlets had pictures. With diagrams.

Blaine: And what did he say?

Kurt: Well after a long and rather moving schpiel about how I shouldn’t throw myself around because “I matter”, he decided to go into the mechanics of it.

Blaine: Oh, my god. How did you not explode from sheer awkward?

Kurt: I have no idea. It was… disturbing, to say the least.

Blaine: …Huh.

Kurt: What?

Blaine: Nothing. I’m just kind of impressed he had the courage to bring it up with you.

Kurt: Courage? It was only the single most embarrassing moment of my life. I think he did it just to torture me.

Blaine: But at least he talked to you.

Kurt: What do you mean?

Blaine: It’s the one topic my dad is avoiding.

Kurt: He probably trusts you to educate yourself.

Blaine: No, I think he’s just avoiding confirming my gayness for himself.

Kurt: Oh, Blaine.

Blaine: Yeah, well.

Kurt: Is that why I’ve not met him yet?

Blaine: Yes. I kind of picked a day for you to meet my mom when I knew my dad was away. I don’t think he could handle meeting my boyfriend.

Kurt: Yet. We’ll work on it.

Azimio: Trouble in gay paradise?

Kurt: Hello Azimio.

Azimio: Lady. Fairyboy. So are you two officially a thing now, or…?

Blaine: What’s it to you? Going double team us if we are?

Azimio: Maybe. Depends on if you feel the need to shove your mutual loserdom in my face.

Kurt: Yeah, cause I’ve been doing that all along.

Azimio: You see, Hummel, that’s the problem. You never thought of high school as a hierarchy. I keep telling you, I’m just here to enforce social order.

Blaine: This isn’t the seventeenth century Europe where you need to keep the peasants in the fields.

Azimio: No, this is twenty-first America and high school has a pecking order.

Kurt: It has one, but it doesn’t need one.

Azimio: Lady, Lady, Lady. You disappoint me. I thought you had it figured out by now.

Kurt: Why don’t you enlighten me?

Azimio: No can do. That would A) ruin my carefully cultivated air of mystery and B) spoil all my gosh-darn fun. You’ll get there eventually.

Blaine: I don’t think there’s anything to figure out. You just like throwing your weight around and pretending to be top of the heap.

Azimio: Just because I haven’t punched you yet, doesn’t mean I won’t. The day is young and I am not standing here to be insulted by you.

Kurt: Well, neither are we. Let’s go, Blaine.

Azimio: See you around, lady-boys! Let me know if you figure it out.

Blaine: What exactly are we supposed to figure out? Why he likes torturing his fellow students.

Kurt: I don’t know. Maybe why he feels that the school needs a pecking order?

Blaine: I really don’t like him.

Kurt: Me neither, but there isn’t much we can actively do about him.

Blaine: Reform the Bully Whips?

Kurt: Blaine, he isn’t doing much that the Bully Whips will be able to stop.

Blaine: There has to be some way to stop him from throwing us in dumpsters!

Kurt: Like? There can’t always be someone around, watching him like a hawk. And the dumpster tosses aren’t so bad! I haven’t been thrown in a gross one all year. It’s like he only targets me when I’m around the paper one.

Blaine: Still, that isn’t a reason to-

Kurt: That’s it!

Blaine: What?

Kurt: That’s it! He only targets me when I’m around the recycled paper! He’s only been slushie-ing with the new slushie flavours that don’t stain! He’s torturing us, but only enough to maintain his rep!

Blaine: But it isn’t just him slushie-ing us. I have a ruined bow tie to prove the effective staining qualities of the garage-bought slushies.

Kurt: Yes, but whenever he is involved, the bullying isn’t so bad. I don’t think he actively wants to hurt us. He’s just maintaining the façade!

Blaine: And why would he do that?

Kurt: I… don’t know.

Blaine: Well, until you can give me a reason, I don’t think I’ll buy into that theory, just yet.

Kurt: It is far-fetched, I suppose.

Blaine: Come on, let’s just go.

Kurt: Are you coming over for dinner?

Blaine: That was the plan? My parents are away ‘til Tuesday, so my options are either ordering in and being alone or attempting to cook something edible and being alone.

Kurt: So… your place is empty? *significant look*

Blaine: *cottons on* Well, Anna will be there until 5, but after that…

Kurt: Let’s swing by yours then, shall we?

Blaine: Definitely. I need to… put my stuff away. Dump my book bag, and so on.

Kurt: *laughs* Who are you making the excuses for? We’re alone in the parking lot. And we are hopefully on the same page. *grins*

Blaine: We are. *grins* But you never know who could be listening in.

Kurt: Yes, the cars pose a serious threat to our matters of national security. They could be working for al-Qaeda!

Blaine: Or the communists!

Kurt: Or Kim Jong-Il!

Blaine: He’s dead. I think you mean his son.

Kurt: Oh, right. What’s his name again?

Blaine: Um. Kim Jong-Il junior?

Kurt: Sounds legit.

Blaine: Shush you, and get in my car.

Kurt: Have you swept it for bugs? Kimmy Junior could be listening in.

Blaine: I feel like you don’t take me seriously.

Kurt: *wolf grin* Cause you’re such a serious guy.

Blaine: I could be serious. I could be very serious.

Kurt: Uh huh.

Blaine: I could! Go on, ask me a serious question.

Kurt: Favourite American Idol winner.

Blaine: … *glare* I said serious.

Kurt: Anyone could be serious when answering a serious question. I want to see if you can be serious answering a normal question.

Blaine: Okay, fine. But American Idol? I only know… like four or five of them.

Kurt: What?! I am shocked and appalled.

Blaine: Well, I could never get over Simon Cowells creepy deep v-neck tees and his tendency to play with his lips. It freaked me out, so I rarely watched.

Kurt: Fair points, I suppose. Which of them do you remember?

Blaine: Kelly Clarkson? And… um… Carrie Underwood? And… That guy who beat Adam Lambert? And… uh… Jordan… Sparks, was that her name?

Kurt: *slow clap* Wow, congratulations on naming three American Idols and one runner up. How can you remember the runner up, but not the winner?

Blaine: Uh, because Adam had those ridiculously tight pants and he made out with his keyboardist or something right on stage. How exactly am I supposed to forget something like that?

Kurt: Smooth.

Blaine: And now you’re judging me.

Kurt: I just didn’t think that you were the eye-liner and glitter kind of gay.

Blaine: Wha-I’m not-! How could-? No-! That’s not-. *huff* I don’t like this conversation anymore.

Kurt: There’s nothing wrong with being that kind of gay. I just thought that I was the more fabulous one in this relationship.

Blaine: …

Kurt: And I don’t like to share my fabulousness.

Blaine: …

Kurt: Blaine?

Blaine: …

Kurt: Oh, my god. Are you giving me the silent treatment?

Blaine: …

Kurt: *laughs* Wow, that’s super serious. Nothing more serious than silence.

Blaine: …

Kurt: Oh, look. And here we are pulling up to your house. Your probably very empty house, seeing as it’s 4:45 and Anna sometimes leaves early on a Friday.

Blaine: …

Kurt: Whatever shall I do, without anyone to talk to me, in this very large, very empty house? I can’t kiss myself. *sigh*

Blaine: I’LL HELP.

Kurt: *smiles* Oh, really?

Blaine: Definitely.

Kurt: What happened to the silent treatment?

Blaine: Gone. Forgotten.

Kurt: How do you expect me to take you seriously when you abandon your endeavours at the slightest temptation?

Blaine: Eh, who needs to be taken seriously when faced with a hot boyfriend and an empty house? That’s if it is empty… ANNA?

Silence greets them.

Kurt: Now, that is what true silence sounds like.

Blaine: Shut up and kiss me.

Kurt: I am not yours to be ordered around Blaine Ander-mmpf.

Blaine’s lips assault Kurt’s face, peppering it with kisses, landing them wherever he can. He takes Kurt’s face in his hands, sliding them around and up Kurt’s neck, into his hair.

Blaine: You talk too much.

Kurt: You’re a lot of fun to make fun of.

Blaine: You’re so mean to me.

Kurt: Oh, you love me.

Both boys freeze. Blaine’s hands still in Kurt’s hair, and Kurt’s arms on Blaine’s back.

Kurt: N- That’s not what I meant.

Blaine: I didn’t think- I get it.

Kurt: It’s just a figure of speech-

Blaine: And it’s not like I don’t like you a lot, because I do-

Kurt: Of course. We’ve only been going out for a while-

Blaine: Things like that take time.

Kurt: We’re only 17, what do we know?

Blaine: Right.

Kurt: Right.

Blaine: …

Kurt: …

Blaine: Um. I’m gonna go put my stuff down.

Kurt: I’ll wait here?

Blaine: Yeah, sure. I’ll be quick.

Kurt: Good, good. We should head over to mine soon, anyway. Dinner.

Blaine: Of course. Right. Dinner.

Blaine turns and races up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He darts into his room and closes the door. He covers his face with both hands and slides to the floor. “Smooth,” he mutters.

Downstairs, Kurt collapses onto the couch in the living room, his ears on fire, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. “Nice one, Hummel,” he says and groans.