Living with Kurt Hummel was turning out to be hell. And when Blaine said "hell", he didn't mean in a pushing a boulder up a hill for eternity kind of hell, unfortunately. No, he meant an endless torment of pale skin and breathy sighs and blue eyes and thoughts that made him wish to claw out his brain and still keep sinning enough to keep the torture going forever.

If he had known this is what would happen if he were to ever happen across his roommate having a sex dream, he would have insisted on a single room four years ago. Or maybe he never would have come to Dalton, never would have met Kurt and then he wouldn't be going through what he was at the moment.

But no, all he would have to do is see Kurt when he smiled at him and he took back all of "what ifs" and he knew, given the opportunity, he would never ever ever take back meeting Kurt Hummel and the delicious temptation that went with it.

He had thought, weeks ago, that he had worked it all out. His problem was the same problem any other sixteen year old boy in all boys school had - he was horny. Simple problem, simple solution. All he needed to do was to get some and then all these dreams and stray thoughts and the goddamn inconvenient boners would just go away.

He knew that it might upset Kurt to not be the number one person inBlaine's life anymore, but if it was that or Blaine doing something to ruin their relationship forever, even a drama queen like Kurt would take coming second. So, confident that he wouldn't lose his best friend in the endeavour, Blaine started dating.

At first it worked. He wasn't interested in Kate at all, but curled up on the end of the bed, bitching about her to Kurt was somehow the closest he had felt to him since Kurt's birthday. And then, for a couple of days, the dreams stopped. But they always came back, leaving Blaine to wake up with sticky sheets and an enormous sense of guilt.

Then came Ari who, with a startling lack of preamble and occasion, he fucked in the back seat of his dad's car. It was good, nothing to write home about, and for a while, the sex stopped the dreams.

It was a brief respite in what was proving to be an agonising juggle between keeping Kurt in his life and keeping him out of his dreams. It probably would have been easy to throw himself more wholeheartedly into his relationship with Ari is he wasn't so addicted to the dreams. No matter how guilty and conflicted he felt when he woke up, those endless moments within the dream that he spent with Kurt were undeniably the best part of his day.

He would spend his spare moments in class staring off into space, imagining that he was in his dorm room staring as Kurt stripped off in front of him. He could see the perfect way he'd bite his lip and look down, shy and ashamed under his gaze. He could see the way he'd turn his head to the side with a little disbelieving laugh as Blaine reassured him he was gorgeous. He wouldn't believe it, but Blaine would make him believe it as he peppered soft kisses onto his cheek and the exposed neck until he'd get distracted by the scar on his neck which he'd lave with his tongue before sucking a dark spot into the skin, marking it in a way that would drag a delicious moan from Kurt and really, that would be the start of all.

Maybe it wasn't the best use of his time in class, but really, how was he supposed to focus on his History lesson with his best friend next to him biting his lip in such an effortlessly sexy way?

Come to think about it, the problems weren't the dreams at all. Dreams were dreams. You weren't conscious and you weren't in control. Nobody could stop dreaming even if they wanted to. No, the problem was the day time thoughts. Like when he was sitting on Kurt's bed, talking about his date with Kate and all he could think about was how much better it would have been with Kurt. Or, the fact that when he was Ari, he could only see Kurt's face underneath him. Or, even worse, the fact that he couldn't remember his current girlfriend's name. All he knew was it didn't start with K. Unfortunately that left him with 25 other letters. Which, when you thought about it - which he definitely didn't - was a fuck load of letters.

So then, when whatshername dumped him, he was less surprised as he was frustrated enough to finally take this as a sign that maybe it wasn't working. Girls were far too much work and they weren't even stopping the dreams so really, what was the point?

His slammed door work Kurt up and after some witty banter where Blaine was definitely not looking at the strip of exposed stomach - and beside, why did Kurt have to be so switched on all the time? He just woke up and is still more intelligent than Blaine - he favours him with a smile and tried to sleep, resigning himself to the inevitable dreams.

What Blaine doesn't expect is to be lying awake hours later, watching Kurt snore softly. Normally at this stage of the night Blaine would be getting lucky right about now, but he's currently just mesmerised. He watches the movement of Kurt's chest and he loves the soft rise and fall. He loves the way his lips fall open with a soft pop and glimmer wetly (although, he will admit, that thought was only briefly innocent. What are you gonna do?) He loves the way Kurt tucks his hand under his chin, like he would if he were five years old and holding a stuffed toy.

The thing that keeps Blaine up isn't just that he's transfixed and busy listing the things he loves about Kurt sleeping; it's that word. His mind uses it so casually and calmly and it's only when he thinks about it does he realise he should have freaked out that the word waas even close to be associated with Kurt. See, Kurt is the one who loves things. He loves scarfs. He loves Vogue. He loves herbal tea. He loves (secretly, of course) watching the Dalton football team play. Blaine, he doesn't love. He just likes. If he thinks about it, he can't ever recall saying he loved something, let alone someone. And it's that more than anything that convinces him. That maybe, it's not just dreams. That being sexually repressed isn't his problem. That maybe, it's more than that.

Before he can scare the shit out of himself and have a breakdown (which he knows is inevitable), he makes a quick plan, rolls over and sleeps dreamlessly.