"Hello?"

"Blaine." Kurt sighs happily when he hears Blaine's voice, spinning in his office chair so that his back is to the door. "How are you?"

"Great, thanks. How are you?"

"Much better now I'm talking to you," Kurt says. It has been a pretty rough day: Tina is out again (a dress fitting this time) and Quinn is ill, meaning that Kurt is missing the only two reasons why he does not tear his hair out on a daily basis; Santana is in a dreadful mood, snapping at anyone who goes near her, even Brittany (so, whatever is the matter, it must be really serious, only she won't talk about it); and Finn is moping around, looking surly and as if he wants to hit something. Several papers ran large pictures of Rachel this morning, at the opening night of her run of Elphaba in the revival of Wicked. Several of the photographs are of her with a handsome, dark-haired man; they look very close, which explains why Finn is currently glaring at a potted plant as if it has deeply offended him and he must hit it to avenge his wounded pride. To top it all off, Dean has been trying to call Kurt all morning. The first few times, he just ignored the incessant chiming of his phone, and after half an hour he switched it off entirely, but Dean's persistence is both irritating and slightly worrying: what does he want?

"D'you wanna talk about it?" Blaine asks.

"No...no, I really just want to stop thinking about it all, to be honest. Distract me?" Kurt winces, hearing the note of pathetic desperation in his voice.

Blaine just laughs quietly, and when he starts talking, Kurt can hear warmth and affection. He pictures Blaine smiling.

"Well, Wes is back now -"

"Hi, Kurt!"

"Did you hear that?"

"Yes, I did," Kurt says, laughing. "Hello Wes."

"Oh, don't encourage him," Blaine groans. "He's been driving me mad since three o'clock this morning."

"Ouch," Kurt says, crinkling his nose. "I take it things went well, then?"

"Haven't you heard from Mercedes yet?"

Kurt shakes his head before he remembers that, no, Blaine isn't actually in the room with him. "No."

He hears faint muttering somewhere on the other end of the line, and then Blaine says, "She said she was going to text you."

"Oh, she probably will," Kurt says, "she just doesn't normally get up very early. And my phone's been off; I only turned it on to call you."

"I'm sure she'll send you a text once she's up, then. But beware: you might find that, half an hour into the long gushing speech, your ears start bleeding."

Kurt laughs as he hears a faint "Hey!" from Wes, followed by a sharp slapping sound.

"O-o-o-ow!" Blaine cries. "Kurt, you heard that, right? He hit me!"

"Aww, poor baby..."

"Yes! Look, see, Wes – he likes me."

Kurt distinctly hears another slap.

"Oh, my God, stop hitting me! That's it, I'm going outside."

Kurt waits through a series of disjointed clicks and shuffles until Blaine sighs.

"Okay, now we can talk without me fearing abuse."

"Don't be silly, he wasn't abusing you."

"He was hitting me!"

"Blaine Anderson," Kurt says, "you're a twenty-five-year-old man, not a child, a pensioner or an animal. A couple of light slaps is hardly abuse. You can cope."

"You're mean." Blaine's sulking. Kurt can almost see him pouting.

"You love it."

"I guess I do." Blaine sighs and so does Kurt, leaning back in his chair. "I miss you. I haven't seen you in ages."

"You saw me on Friday."

"That was four whole days ago," Blaine argues. "Are you free tomorrow night?"

Kurt quickly scans the calendar on his desk. "Yeah."

"Will you go to dinner with me?"

"You know," Kurt says mildly, trying to fight the urge to scream very loudly, "you keep asking me out as if you expect me to say no."

"Is that a yes?" Blaine asks.

"No."

"Oh."

"It's an 'of course I will, don't be stupid.' Didn't I agree to be your boyfriend a week ago?"

"You did," Blaine concedes, "but I don't like to assume."

"Blaine, honey, you're sweet but you're being ridiculous. I wouldn't have agree to be your boyfriend if I didn't really like you. Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So the only reason I'd say no to going out with you is if I was already busy. Okay?"

"Okay. So, Wednesday?"

"Wednesday," Kurt confirms. "When and where?"

"Uh...don't worry about it," Blaine says. "I'll let you know."

From: Blaine

We have reservations for tonight at 7 :)

To: Blaine

OK...like that's not vague

From: Blaine

You have all the information you need.

To: Blaine

What about *where* we have reservations?

From: Blaine

That's on a need-to-know basis.

To: Blaine

And why don't I need to know?

From: Blaine

Because if you know, it won't be a surprise.

To: Blaine

Why does it have to be a surprise?

From: Blaine

Because surprises are fun! :)

To: Blaine

Oh my God. Look, I have a meeting now, I have to go. Try not to explode with excitement in the meantime, yeah?

From: Blaine

I'll try, but I make no promises. See you later x

To: Blaine

xxx

Kurt sighs as he pockets his phone. He's never seen himself as the kind of person who would send his boyfriend a text comprised entirely of kisses, but clearly he is. It is a surprise; Kurt doesn't especially like surprises, so he's a little bit jittery in view of his mysterious date this evening. He tries to tell himself that it isn't really that big of a deal, but he knows it is a lie. This is important, terribly so: it is, really, their first date – their first proper date with dinner and no coffee, only perhaps some wine; their first date since they said, 'we're official'. It is a landmark of sorts, and so Kurt cannot help but be nervous, even if he feels like Blaine has been around forever.

He perhaps rushes his meeting a little – it's not very important, fortunately, only a discussion negotiating printing costs – because he is so on edge. Since he, apparently, does not 'need to know', he ends up sitting in his office all afternoon, answering letters and glancing frequently at the door, until someone knocks on it at half past five.

Kurt looks sharply to see Tina poke her hear around the door, looking excited and a little confused.

"Uh, Kurt," she says, "there's someone here for you."

"Who?"

"Blaine."

Kurt just blinks at her. "Why is he here? Why does he even know where 'here' is?" he asks.

"Don't look at me," Tina answers, "I'm just as confused as you are. He said you have a date, though."

"We do," Kurt says, and then he realises: this is Blaine's surprise, or part of it. In the grand scheme of things, he thinks, it is not really that bad. He was imagining much worse, to be honest; this is sweet and actually romantic.

"Just, uh...just give me a second, okay?" he says to Tina. "I need to get my stuff together." He grabs his jacket and pulls it on, double-checking that his keys, phone and wallet are in his pockets, before switching off the light and following Tina out of his office.

Blaine is standing with Santana by her desk, in the middle of what appears to be another very important conversation. He looks up when he hears Kurt approaching.

"Hey," he says, turning away from Santana and smiling at Kurt.

"Hey yourself," Kurt says. "What are you doing here?"

Blaine's smile becomes a wide, bright grin. "I," he says, linking his arm through Kurt's, "am taking you to dinner." He nods politely to Tina, Santana and the others in the room, and walks with Kurt towards the door, his hand tucked into the crook of Kurt's elbow.

"I still think you could have told me where we were going before we arrived," Kurt says to Blaine as the stroll along the street, fingers interlinked. "It wouldn't have ruined the surprise."

"Kurt, the restaurant was like, half the surprise," Blaine replies, heaving a heavy sigh of mock- exasperation.

"What was the other half?" Kurt asks. "The décor?"

"That place is beautifully decorated!" Blaine argues.

"If the look they're going for is 'Parisian Brothel', sure."

Blaine sighs again.

"And the waitress was obviously smitten with you," Kurt adds after thinking for moment. "She practically fainted when you smiled at her."

"She was not!" Blaine protests. "How could she be? I wasn't flirting or anything, and besides – she was, what, eighteen? And I have you to occupy me."

"I might want to do a better job of that," Kurt says, pulling Blaine in and brushing a kiss against his lips. "Since you can't seem to stop yourself charming barely-legal waitresses."

Blaine's eyelids flutter open and he rolls his eyes, looking up at Kurt. "So," he says. "Where to next?"

A small idea has been forming in Kurt's brain and he plucks up the courage to voice it.

"Do you maybe want to come back to my place?"

Blaine doesn't even hesitate. "Okay."

"I'm sorry, it's a few floors up, and I don't really like using the elevator."

"Why not?" Blaine says as they walk up the second flight of stairs.

"It breaks down every other month or so, and I've just gotten used to taking the stairs," Kurt says. "It wasn't working when I first moved in -"

"Typical," Blaine interjects with a grin.

"Typical," Kurt repeats. "They couldn't get anyone into fix it for about six weeks, and it's never been the same since. Besides, in the mornings it's full of noisy kids going to school."

Blaine murmurs, "Fair enough," just as they reach Kurt's floor. Kurt's fingers fumble with the key as he unlocks the door and he wonders why he is suddenly so nervous. It's not as if he has never had another man in his apartment; this scenario should be familiar. But something about the simple fact that it is Blaine with him now makes it seem so much more important.

"Come in. Would you, uh, like a drink? I have some more wine, if you want."

"That'd be nice," Blaine says, perching himself on the edge of the sofa. This makes Kurt laugh, seeing Blaine look as nervous as he feels.

"Y'know," Kurt says, pausing in the doorway, "you can sit further back than that. My sofa has never been known to eat people. Only pens and coins."

Blaine laughs and scoots further back, and Kurt goes and pours each of them a glass of wine before coming back and sitting next to Blaine. He hands Blaine his glass and snuggles into the cushions, not really sure what to do next.

And then they're kissing. Kurt's not entirely certain hoy they made the switch form sitting there, looking at each other and thinking about how to initiate a kiss, to actually kissing, but they did, and he moves his lips eagerly against Blaine's, feeling just about ready to drown in the feelings they elicit from him.

Blaine makes a small whimpering sound as he pulls Kurt closer so that he sits in Blaine's lap. Kurt works his tongue into Blaine's mouth and they kiss for several moments, long, languid, heated kisses that last and last and last.

Kurt is trailing his mouth lazily along Blaine's neck and jaw when there is the faint sound of a key turning in the lock and the door opens.

Kurt sits up, eyes wide, and Blaine turns towards the door as a tall, blond-haired man walks in. He takes a step backwards when he notices Kurt and Blaine on the sofa.

"Dean," Kurt says, his voice carefully controlled, "what the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to collect a few things I left here," Dean says, still just looking at Kurt. "I just moved, and I realised you still had a bunch of my books and things."

"I knew I should have changed the locks," Kurt mutters. To Dean, he says, "And you didn't think to ask me first?"

"I did. I spent most of yesterday morning trying to call you. You ignored me." Dean glances at Blaine, eyes flicking to the red marks along his jaw. "I guess you were busy. You moved on quickly."

Kurt scoffs. "It's been three months, Dean, might I remind you? You moved on much quicker than I did."

"There was still no need to ignore me."

"And there was no need to cheat on me." Dean inhales sharply in a hiss. "Look," Kurt says, "just get the things you came for and leave, please. As you may have worked out, I'm on a date wth my boyfriend."

Dean just stares for a second longer, then nods stiffly and walks out towards Kurt's bedroom.

"How does he know where his stuff is?" Blaine asks. "Is he just gonna wander around for a while until he finds it all?"

"Oh, it should be pretty easy for him," Kurt says. Dean stalks out into the front room again before Kurt can say any more, and leaves after a short, terse goodbye. A piece of paper flutters down from the pile of books and DVDs in his arms as the door closes. Kurt swoops down from Blaine's lap and scoops it up, showing it to Blaine.

"I left a note, after all," he says with a smirk. Blaine laughs and Kurt leans forward to capture his lips in another kiss, but Blaine turns his head to one side, dodging Kurt's mouth.

"No, come on," he says, "we need to talk. Your ex-boyfriend just burst in here unannounced and I barely knew he existed. We should talk about that."

"I really don't like to talk about what happened with Dean," Kurt says quietly, feeling small and incredibly guilty for – not lying to Blaine, exactly, but he certainly never told him the whole truth. "It was a low point, even for me."

"Oh, Kurt, I don't mind, sweetheart," Blaine says, smoothing his hand over Kurt's back in a placating sort of gesture. "If you really don't want to talk about it, we won't, but I think we should at least try."

Kurt sighs, but he can't argue with Blaine's logic. He slips off of Blaine's lap onto the sofa, and Blaine wraps an arm around his waist as Kurt explains how he and Dean met and how they fell apart.

"The stupidest thing was, he cheated on me, but he also dumped me. I wanted to stay, to try and fix things, but...whatever stupid student he was sleeping with was clearly more interesting."

Blaine tightens his arm around Kurt's waist and nuzzles his face against the crook of Kurt's neck, kissing it softly.

"I can't imagine anyone more interesting than you," he murmurs.

Kurt strokes his fingers in dizzying circles on Blaine's knee as Blaine rests his head on Kurt's shoulder, lips still brushing softly at his neck, and he tells Blaine everything: he tells the story of how he came out, and how he nearly went straight back in the closet when he dated Brittany. He tells Blaine about Karofsky, the bullying, the kiss, and then Dave's announcement that he was in love with Kurt.

"What did you do?" Blaine asks, murmuring the words into Kurt's skin.

"I couldn't...I couldn't have gone out with him," Kurt says quietly. His words are barely a whisper as they are cocooned in darkness. "I'd forgiven him for everything that he'd done, but for a relationship you need trust and there'd always be that fear at the back of my mind, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"So I told him no. He said he loved me, but he wanted to be in love more than anything else. I was just convenient, because I was the only gay guy he knew. And it was okay, but someone from his school saw him with me and pieced things together..."

Blaine seems to understand what Kurt is going to say before he manages to force the words out of his mouth.

"He...?"

"Yeah. But he was okay, his dad found him in time. I visited him in the hospital a lot and we've kept in touch." Kurt shrugs. "It's all just stuff that happens, and now we're stronger because of it."

Kurt falls silent, thinking, and Blaine leaves him to it, rubbing soothing circles on his hip. After a few moments, Kurt shakes his head as if to clear his mind, and continues to speak, telling Blaine about Chandler, who'd been sweet and had made him feel special, but wasn't what he was looking for; and about his boyfriends in college: Alex, who threw things; James, who won fifty dollars from three of his friends after he broke up with Kurt; Isaac and Ryan and Jason, all of whom turned out to be not quite as perfect as they first appeared.

Once Kurt has finished, Blaine waits for a while, as if expecting Kurt to continue, and then he takes a deep breath and starts to speak.

First, he explains how he ended up at Dalton in the first place, something that Kurt has never thought to question – he fits in so well with the other former Warblers that Kurt has always simply assumed that Blaine was always part of the private school system like Wes and the others. But he was at Westerville High in his Freshman year, when he came out at the same time as a friend of his. They decided to go to the school's Sadie Hawkins Dance together – as friends, as a show of solidarity. A group of thugs attacked them in the parking lot whilst they were waiting to be picked up.

Kurt can't help but press his hand hard against his mouth, feeling sick, but Blaine seems calm: it's just something else that happened, and something else that made him stronger.

Like Kurt, Blaine has little to say about his time in high school in terms of romance. There was a boy, Sebastian, in his Junior year, but they both wanted such different things (Blaine, a relationship; Sebastian, sex) that they never really worked as a couple. Neither of them was willing to back down, and so their flirtation never amounted to anything more.

"When I started college I wanted to...I don't know, rebel. Or maybe celebrate getting out of Ohio. I had a lot of...not-quite relationships my Freshman year."

"Didn't we all?" Kurt asks wryly.

Blaine laughs. "But it got...not boring, exactly, but I started wanting more again after a while. I dated a few people during the last three years, but I never really clicked with any of them. And since then...I have dated more than my fair share of weirdos, none of whom lasted very long. I even went out with Blonde Robert once or twice."

"Trust me, I know exactly why he didn't last," Kurt says with a low laugh which Blaine returns before turning serious again.

"A few of the guys were around for a bit longer, but I've never had a relationship that's lasted more than a few months. I don't want to settle for less than love, you know?" Blaine says. "And none of them ever liked that I'm a musician. At first, they thought it was cool, it was sexy, but once they realised I'm probably not gonna do anything special any time soon, they started sniping at me: it's a waste of time; you're never going to get anywhere; why don't you get a proper job; all the same things my dad always tells me." Kurt grips Blaine's hand, squeezing tight. "The guys at the café always it's my fault when a relationship ends because I'm always the one doing the dumping, but...why should I settle? Why should I stay with someone who doesn't understand the most basic thing about me?"

"You're perfect," Kurt whispers, kissing Blaine. "You're perfect exactly how you are. I'm never saying goodbye to you."

Blaine leans forwards and captures Kurt's lips again.

"Do you think," he whispers, the words vibrating in the air between their mouths, "do you think it's possible to fall in love with someone in three weeks?"

"I don't know," Kurt replies. "But I think you can get close. God knows I have."

"Don't you think it's too fast? We've only been out three times."

Kurt shrugs a little. "Sometimes you can't put a time frame on things. They just happen, and then you're along for the ride."

Blaine smiles, his lips still on Kurt's so that Kurt feels the movement rather than sees it. "I could get used to that. If it was with you."

From: Mercedes

Hey, Kurt, sorry I haven't texted you before now. It's been insane this week.

To: Mercedes

No, don't worry. How are you? How did it go with Wes?

From: Mercedes

It was amazing. I really, really like him, Kurt.

To: Mercedes

I'm so happy for you, Mercedes. I hope this works out for you.

To: Mercedes

But you live in Chicago, and he's in NY...

From: Mercedes

I know. But I have an audition.

To: Mercedes

OK? That's great, but you never normally tell me about auditions. You always wait until you've got a part.

From: Mercedes

My audition's in NY.

Kurt calls Mercedes immediately.

"What?" he says, as soon as she picks up. "What's the audition for?"

Mercedes laughs. "They're bringing Chicago back, oddly enough," she says. "I think they want me to try for Mama Morton, but I'm not sure."

"It doesn't matter, that's amazing!" Kurt says excitedly. "And it's in New York? Broadway?"

"Of course."

"That's brilliant! So you'll be here for a while, if you get the part?"

"Yeah, a six-month stint, they said. Maybe a bit longer."

"So you get to see Wes, right?"

"I will. He, uh...he asked me to stay with him if I get the part."

Kurt is silent for a moment, listening to Mercedes' slow, even breaths and thinking.

"Do you want to?" he asks eventually.

"Yes. I mean, I know it's fast and we've only -"

"Then do it," Kurt says, interrupting her. "Now, what song are you going to audition with?"

On Friday night, Kurt glances down at the pile of papers in front of him, then across at the even larger pile in his in-tray, and sighs, kneading his forehead with the knuckles of his left hand. It's about eight o'clock, still just light outside with the sun painting the sky pink and orange as it begins to dip below the horizon. Kurt, however, is several hours from bedtime: he's barely halfway done, and the piles in front of him seem to just keep growing.

A light knock on the door makes him look up.

"Yes?"

Blaine pokes his head around the door, grinning.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asks. "How did you get in?"

"Quinn let me in on her way out," Blaine replies simply. And you're coming home with me, now."

"I can't." Kurt sighs. "How did you even know I'd be here, anyway?"

"I called Santana." Blaine shrugs, as if this should not be news to Kurt.

"I didn't know you and Santana were so friendly. Why were you calling her?"

Blaine laughs – a little nervously, Kurt thinks. "You'll probably find out in the next week or so," he says.

"You're not saying any more, are you?" Kurt says with a wry smile.

"Nope," Blaine says. "Now come on, grab your jacket."

"No, I can't, I've got all this to do."

Blaine clucks his tongue. "I asked Quinn on my way in. She said everything you're doing can wait until tomorrow." He looks at Kurt, eyes wide and appealing, a slight pout on his lips. "Please?"

"No, I really need to get on with this."

"Please? Don't you want to see me?"

"No, of course I do..."

"Then come on!" Blaine says, tugging on Kurt's arm and pulling him close. He looks up at Kurt through his eyelashes. "You need to take breaks and go home at a reasonable hour to be more productive. Please?" he says again, brushing his lips against Kurt's.

"Okay," Kurt murmurs. "Okay. Just give me a second." He picks his jacket up of off the back of his chair and follows Blaine out of the room, flicking off the lights behind him.

"This is beautiful," Kurt says as he steps inside Blaine's apartment, because, honestly, it is. It's nothing like Kurt's flat, clean and uncluttered, all clear, defined lines. There are pictures on Blaine's mantelpiece, ornaments lining the bookcase; he has the kind of knick-knacks that Kurt's never had the time to acquire. Anything he'd had decorating his apartment was Dean's, or a gift from Dean, and Kurt threw them all out after the Naked Coach Guest Incident. Now, his apartment is bare; he's been getting used to it, but seeing Blaine's home – even just this one room – has made Kurt miss the cluttered, welcoming air of his father's house in Ohio, where there are pictures on every sideboard and all his finger-paintings from kindergarten still sit in boxes in the attic.

"It's nothing special," Blaine says, shrugging. "Not as nice as your place."

"It's lovely," Kurt insists. "It feels like it's actually been lived in." Kurt's apartment really hasn't been. It's cold and even now, when he actually sleeps in his bed every night, it's missing something important.

"Thank you," Blaine says, smiling, but looking at Kurt as if he's a little worried about the direction of his thoughts. Kurt makes sure to smile extra-brightly back at Blaine; he's just had some sort of minor epiphany about how lonely he used to be, sure, but he's certainly not lonely anymore, and Blaine is a big part of the reason why.

Blaine sits on the couch, motioning for Kurt to sit beside him. "I'm afraid I'm a really awful cook and I'd rather not poison you, so...take-out?"

"Sounds good," Kurt says. "But now we have to pick what to have."

"I was thinking Thai, perhaps? There's a great place round the corner that delivers."

"Perfect," Kurt says.

Blaine stands up and rummages in a pile of papers on the table for a menu, spreading it out in front of them when he unearths it. "Pick whatever you like."

They spend ten minutes or so pouring over the menu, deciding on the best combination of things they both want to try, and then Blaine goes to place their order, grinning at Kurt as he chats to the man on the other end of the line like he's an old friend. Of course he does; Blaine seems to have a miraculous ability to charm everyone he meets. God knows it worked on Kurt.

They watch a little TV whilst they wait for the food to arrive. Kurt keeps sneaking sideways glances at Blaine; whenever he does, he finds Blaine already looking at him, eyes smoulderingly intent and his lashes lowered, casting faint shadows on his cheeks. Kurt opens his mouth to ask why Blaine is staring at him, but the doorbell rings and Blaine jumps up to answer it before he gets a chance.

They eat mostly in silence, interrupted only by occasional sarcastic comments about the programme they are watching and a smattering of conversation. Blaine chuckles every time Kurt says something especially bitchy, smiling between forkfuls of food as if it is the funniest thing he's ever heard. When they finish, he turns to Kurt, looking serious and a little nervous.

"So," he says. "Going well so far?"

Kurt rolls his eyes – fondly, of course; Blaine's sweet-natured desire for everything to be perfect is just too endearing sometimes. "Of course," he says, looking directly at Blaine. "We've done this before, after all, and I love spending time with you. I don't get to do it anywhere near as much as I'd like."

Blaine smiles softly. "I'm glad you're having a good time." He wraps both his arms around Kurt's waist, rubbing the side of one index finger up and down against Kurt's ribs.

"I always have a good time with you," Kurt whispers. Blaine simply looks at him for a long moment before leaning forward at the same time as pulling Kurt impossibly closer and letting their lips brush together in a kiss.

One kiss leads to a string of others. These touches seem different to the others they've shared so far: they are both more confident now, they relationship has progressed astoundingly far given the limited time they've had to spend together, and so the awkward edge of uncertainty has disappeared like stars vanishing with the sunrise. They separate, gasping slightly from lack of oxygen, and curl up together in the corner. Blaine tips his head back to rest it against Kurt's neck; Kurt traces nonsensical patterns on the back of Blaine's hand.

"It's getting late," he comments some time later – perhaps it's been five minutes, perhaps five hours; he has no way of knowing how long they have sat there, curled up around each other. "Almost eleven."

"Don't wan' you to go," Blaine mumbles lazily.

"I won't," Kurt promises. "Maybe...maybe we should go to bed."

Blaine jerks his head up. "Yeah?" he says, looking at Kurt searchingly. Kurt knows this is not about rejection, about 'wanting to' or 'not wanting to'; Blaine is so eager his skin thrums with it, but Kurt can see him work to dampen it – probably so that he doesn't scare Kurt off, which by this point is ridiculous. Sweet, though.

No, Blaine is asking because he understands that this requires trust on Kurt's part, and because he needs Kurt to understand that it's the same for him.

Kurt does.

"Yeah," he says in answer, smiling softly.

"Okay, then." Blaine smiles back as he twines his fingers around Kurt's and they make their way hand-in-hand to his bedroom.