Kurt waltzed into Blaine's apartment with the key he had slipped him at the end of the workday and an arm full of groceries. He was early, Blaine wouldn't be back for another hour and a half, but Kurt had plans. They included him whipping up a killer ratatouille, a couple glasses of a Cotes-du-Roussillon Kurt had found at Chelsea Market, and maybe a little snooping. Kurt wasn't planning on going through Blaine's closets, but Kurt did take his time studying the framed photos scattered around his apartment. His favorite was a shot of a group of boys in front of a pair of tall, black wrought iron gates, arms around each other laughing and smiling blithely, all dressed in blue blazers with red piping, striped ties, and grey dress slacks. Kurt deduced that that must have been the high school uniform Blaine had been referring to yesterday. Speaking of the superhero, Kurt spotted Blaine in the middle of the pack. His hair was longer than he kept it nowadays, and the ear-to-ear grin he was sporting denoted that he was completely free of responsibility and anxiety, unlike the frowns and grimaces Kurt occasionally caught plaguing Blaine's features.

"Honey, I'm home!" he heard Blaine's voice call. Kurt immediately straightened up. Blaine appeared a second later clad in Superman attire.

I could get used to this, Kurt thought to himself. He never pegged himself as the housewife type, but it had been so long since Kurt had anyone to take care of anyone but himself, so he couldn't help but savor the feeling.

Blaine closed the distance between them and swept Kurt into a kiss. He looked over Kurt's shoulder and saw the set table. "Kurt, you didn't have to make me dinner."

"But I wanted to," Kurt claimed.

"I don't want you to feel obligated—"

"I don't feel obligated," he insisted. "I like doing stuff like this, Blaine."

"I appreciate that, but still—"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off. "I don't have some sort of June Cleaver complex, okay? It's just…cooking is the way I show people I care. After my mom died, my dad wasn't much of a cook, there were a lot of frozen dinners for a while, so I took it upon myself to learn. Then in high school, he had a heart attack and—"

"Oh Kurt, I'm so sorry—"

"It's okay. But when that happened, there was so much that I couldn't control, I felt so helpless, but the one thing I could do was make him a meal. And I've been on my own for so long, and I really like cooking Blaine, so let me have my cooking."

"Of course," Blaine smiled and pecked him on the cheek. "It looks delicious, by the way."

They made their way over to the table. "I kept the French theme, so I whipped us up some ratatouille."

"I've seen that movie too!"

"Seriously, Blaine, you have so much to learn," Kurt laughed as he took his seat. "Oh, shoot! I need to light the candles."

"No, it's okay, I got it," Blaine stopped him. He concentrated on the candles for a second before they ignited.

Kurt's eyes widened momentarily. "Show off."

They chatted about each other's days as they ate. Once they finished, Blaine insisted on cleaning up, then he joined Kurt on the couch with a glass of wine.

"So, you must have been here for a while," Blaine said, settling on the sofa in yet another Ohio State t-shirt and flannel pajama pants.

"Yeah, I got here a little after seven," Kurt told him.

"Did you find my circus porn collection?"

"What?"

"I'm kidding," he laughed. Kurt exhaled in relief.

"I did see this, though." Kurt reached across the couch and grabbed the picture of Blaine in high school.

Blaine looked at the photo and smiled. "That was right after we won Sectionals junior year."

"Your acapella group?"

"Yeah. Three of the best years of my life."

Kurt's brow furrowed and he cocked his head in confusion. "Three?"

"Oh, I transferred in. I went to Westerville High my freshmen year," Blaine clarified.

"Why'd you transfer?"

Blaine hesitated. "I had…there were some…issues."

"Issues?"

"I don't want to get into the whole sob story," Blaine said, trying to brush it off.

Kurt gave a Blaine a look that translated to if you don't tell me the sob story, I'll give you something else to sob about. Blaine sighed in resignation and began, "Well I realized…who I was…when I was fifteen, just before I started high school. But I wasn't naïve, I'd read the Laremie Project, I knew what happened to guys like me in towns like Westerville, so figured my best bet was to lay low, blend in, and wait until college. You know, since puberty wasn't bad enough with the superpowers, let's add a dash of homosexuality to make it interesting."

Kurt chuckled.

"So, one of the requirements of being a straight male at Westerville High was having a crush on this girl, her name was Lana Lang…"

"Hey dude," Pete elbowed Blaine, jarring him from packing up his book bag for the day. Blaine turned to face the dark-skinned boy who had been his best friend since kindergarten. "Check it out," Pete cocked his head to the left. Blaine's line of vision followed Pete's nod, and found Lana perched on a ladder hanging top corner of a banner promoting this year's homecoming dance. At first, Blaine wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking at, but as Lana leaned over to tape the corner into place, he realized that her position gave one a spectacular view of her butt.

"Oh, uh, nice," Blaine muttered, pausing to admire with Pete.

"Tell me about it. What I'd give to tap tha—"

"What are we looking at?" a female voice interrupted Pete. A second later, Chloe Sullivan sidled up next to the two boys. "Ugh, really, guys? Can't Lana Lang spread some school spirit without you two eyeing her up like a piece of meat?"

"Way to ruin the moment, Sullivan," Pete grumbled as he shouldered his athletic bag. "I guess I should be heading to practice anyway. Catch you later Blaine! Chloe…"

"Sometimes I wonder why we hang out with him because honestly, Pete can be so—" Chloe looked over at Blaine, who was staring after Pete with a longing look. "Um, Blaine? You've got a little drool on your chin."

Blaine snapped out of his daze. "Wh-what?" he inquired, wiping his chin self-consciously.

"Remind me why you didn't try out for the football team again? I mean, if they let Pete in, I'm sure you have made it," said Chloe.

"I can't play. I have a medical condition," Blaine lied.

"A medical condition?"

"Yeah…asthma."

"But you never seem to get winded in gym class," Chloe pointed out. Blaine silently cursed her astuteness.

"Yeah…um, it's only a problem when I'm active for long periods of time," he covered. "I probably wouldn't make it through practice without being reduced to a wheezing mess."

"Oh," Chloe replied, her tone betraying that she wasn't totally convinced, but had dismissed it anyway, "Well, are you still going to come to The Torch meeting with me?"

"Yep," Blaine assured her, shutting his locker and flashing her a smile.

Chloe instinctively smiled in return. "Good. The football team is so overrated anyway," she said as they began to walk to the school newspaper office. "In ten years, most of those guys are going to be washed-up has-beens stuck in this poe-dunk town while you and I will be working for The Daily Planet or The Washington Post."

"I guess so," Blaine agreed half-heartedly as they passed under the recently hung homecoming sign.

"Are you going to that by the way?" Chloe inquired, motioning to the banner.

"Homecoming? No, I was planning on sitting it out. Why?"

"No reason," Chloe replied a little too quickly. "I was just curious to see what other freshmen were going. I mean, I don't think I'm going to go either, I mean, talk about overrated."

"Totally," Blaine replied, the two teens sharing a smile.

Chloe's gaze lingered on her friend. She quickly snapped herself out of it and changed the subject as they neared The Torch's office. "Ready to become an intrepid reporter, Blaine?"

0-0-0

"So, are you going to go to homecoming?" Pete asked Blaine as they navigated the crowded hallways together on their way to fourth period.

"I thought I'd go to the game, you know, to cheer on all of your strenuous bench-warming," Blaine smirked.

"Shut up," Pete laughed, giving his friend a playful shove. "I meant the dance."

"No," Blaine told him. "Are you going?"

"Not sure yet," Pete replied as he recovered from a shoulder-check from a burly senior. "I was kind of thinking about asking Chloe."

"Chloe?" Blaine's tone was incredulous.

"Not as a date thing, as more of a friend thing, just so I wouldn't have to go alone. You could come with us, we could all go together, as friends."

Blaine raised a thick eyebrow. "I'll think about it." They had reached the honors Chemistry classroom. "See you at lunch?"

"Yeah," confirmed Pete, leaving Blaine at the doorway to continue on to Spanish. "Say hi to Lana for me."

It was Blaine's turn to jostle Pete. "Get out of here, Ross."

"Whatever. Get on that, Anderson!" Pete called before he was swallowed up into the herd of students changing classes.

Blaine took his seat at the front of the class which happened to be right next to Lana herself. Even though they were only a foot apart, they never interacted. Lana's friend, Peyton occupied the seat on the other side of the cheerleader, so her back was always turned to Blaine for the majority of the lesson. Blaine unpacked his binder and grabbed a pencil as he waited with the rest of the class for their teacher to arrive.

"Hello, class," Ms. Brown greeted the students as she emerged from the supply closet in the back of the room near the lab tables. The lesson passed uneventfully, Blaine took careful notes as usual, until the end of the period. "Tomorrow we will be starting our first lab," the teacher announced. "So remember not to wear anything too nice and girls, make sure you can tie your hair back and no dangly jewelry. I'll be assigning partners—" the students collectively groaned "—hey! No complaints! I'll let you pick for the next lab. Okay, let's see here, Bobby and Jill, Brooke and Lucas…"

Blaine let his mind wander as the teacher continued to call out lab partners. Is Pete really going to ask Chloe to homecoming? Should I ask someone? Blaine ran through the list of girls he was speaking terms with, it wasn't a long one. What girl would want to—

"…Blaine and Lana…"

The mention of his name shook Blaine from his thoughts. He looked at Ms. Brown with disbelief and then at Lana. She seemed surprised too, but unlike Blaine's expression of pure shock, hers seemed to be tinged with disappointment. Lana glanced over at him, their eyes meeting fleetingly, Blaine smiled at her sheepishly then broke the eye contact, suddenly very interested in his notes from today's lecture. Pete isn't going to believe this…

0-0-0

"I hate you, man! And I was even recommended for Chem honors!" Pete lamented at lunch.

"You are so delusional, Pete! What do you think, just because Blaine and Lana are lab partners that she's suddenly going to fall in love with him? You seem to be forgetting that she's dating Whitney Fordman," Chloe reminded her friend.

Whitney Fordman. He was tall, blonde, a senior, the star of the football team…basically everything Blaine wasn't. And Lana was beautiful, popular, and a cheerleader. They were a match made in high school heaven. Pete really was delusional if he thought Blaine had a chance at a girl like Lana, and then there was the fact that deep down, Blaine just wasn't all that interested.

"My sister says that Whitney can't keep a girlfriend for more than two months," Pete informed her. "Then my main man Blaine will be the shoulder Lana needs to cry on and then he'll make his move."

"Just so we're all on the same page here, can Cameron Diaz play me in this fantasy version of your life?" Chloe deadpanned.

"Yeah, and that guy…oh! I want Freddie Prinze Jr. to play me," Blaine joined in, laughing.

0-0-0

"Okay class, pair up with your partners and we'll get started," Ms. Brown instructed the class the following day.

The students shuffled to the back half of the classroom where the lab tables were. Blaine grabbed an empty one and waited for Lana to join him.

"Hey, Blaine," she addressed him pleasantly.

"H-hi Lana," he stammered back, having trouble maintaining eye contact with her. An awkward silence ensued before Lana suggested they get started. The lab went smoothly for the most part, they were required to start over since Lana hadn't set the Bunsen burner to the correct temperature and their solution had been ruined. It was surprising to discover that there was something Lana Lang didn't excel at.

"Wow," remarked Lana, she had resigned herself to just watching Blaine complete the rest of the lab and handing him materials when she could. "You're really good at this."

"I guess I just have a knack for science," he told her with a self-effacing blush as he measured the additional hydrogen peroxide, stirring a couple times, and waiting for the reaction to take place. "There we go!"

"Finally," Lana sighed, taking notes to describe the correct reaction. "And not a minute too soon, the period's almost over. Sorry about putting us behind, Chemistry isn't really my calling."

"It's okay," Blaine assured her cheerily, scribbling down some notes of his own.

"Alright, class, clean up your stations before leaving. Everything should look like it did when you entered the classroom today," Ms. Brown told the class. "Lab reports are due next Tuesday."

"See you tomorrow, Blaine," smiled Lana as they exited the classroom once their station was straightened up.

"Yeah, um, sounds good," Blaine replied. She was just about to leave Blaine called out "Hey Lana!"

"Yes?"

"If you need any help on the lab report, I'd be happy to give you a hand."

Surprise swept over Lana's face. "Are you sure?"

Not really, Blaine thought to himself. "Yes."

"Well, thanks. I have cheer until five tomorrow, so any time after then should work for me," Lana told him.

"Do you want to meet at my place at six, then?" offered Blaine.

"Sure," she concurred.

"Okay, great. It's a date!" Blaine instantly regretted his word choice. "I mean, not a date-date, a study-date."

"Yeah, I assumed so," Lana chuckled. "See you around, Blaine."

Blaine raised his hand in a lame attempt at saying goodbye. Jeez, for someone who thinks they like guys, you're a total freak show around girls, he grumbled inwardly. Maybe you're not all that into guys, or just certain guys, like Justin Timberlake and Ryan Phillippe. Blaine reasoned with himself on his way to the cafeteria. And maybe you're only into certain girls, like Lana. What does that make me, bi? Well, it doesn't matter, because the only gender you're going to be doing an 'experimenting' with is girls until college at the earliest. And if you think you're going to do any experimenting with Lana Lang, you're just as delusional as Pete, Blaine told himself. Fortunately, he had reached the lunchroom by now and was more than eager to be distracted by Chloe's latest investigation into the supernatural, or Pete's recount of football practice than to ponder his sexuality anymore.

0-0-0

"Blaine," Martha Kent said as her son zipped around their home in a blur. "Blaine…BLAINE!"

"What?" Blaine appeared in front of her. She could tell that he was itching to get moving again.

"What's going on? You're all over the place…wait, did you actually brush your hair?"

"Someone's coming over," Blaine informed his mother, his eyes averted and his tone impatient. "I was just getting ready."

"Is this someone a girl by any chance?" Martha inquired, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Maybe," Blaine grunted. It was beginning to look as if it was paining him to stand still.

"And who is this girl?" his mother pressed.

"Lanalang," Blaine said in a garbled rush.

"Lana Lang?" she repeated. "No wonder."

"Mom," Blaine whined as fidgeted.

"Okay, okay! You're dismissed," she laughed as Blaine vanished in a flurry of motion.

Lana arrived at six on the dot. Her raven hair was still wet from her post-practice shower and she was dressed more casually than at school. Blaine ushered her into the loft in the family barn where spent most of his time.

"This is a cool spot," Lana commented as she climbed the wide wooden stairs.

"Not bad for a barn, right?" Blaine joined in. "If you don't like it, we could always move to the kitchen or something."

"It's fine," she assured him, plopping down on the couch. "Should we get started?"

The next hour passed by quicker than Blaine realized. Both freshmen worked diligently on their respective reports, Blaine patiently fielding all of Lana's questions and helping her to find the answers. They finished an hour and a half later.

"Thank you for all your help, Blaine," Lana said, gathering her belongings. "I'm sorry that this was more along the lines of a tutoring session for you, I didn't mean to take advantage—"

"Hey," Blaine interjected. "I offered, remember? Like I said, I'm happy to help. Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner? I promise my parents aren't completely insufferable."

Lana smiled kindly as she pulled on her jacket. "My aunt insisted that I be home for dinner tonight." She noted Blaine's crestfallen expression. "Some other time?"

"Cool," Blaine grinned dopily.

0-0-0

Peyton sighed as she shut her locker with a little more force than necessary.

"Okay, what's wrong?" Lana asked as they began to make their way to honors Chem.

"Ugh, homecoming is in two weeks and I still don't have a date," she complained. "You're so lucky you have a boyfriend. All my potential dates are either taken or jerks."

"What about Blaine Anderson?" Lana suggested.

"What about him?"

"He's a nice guy, I know he kind of keeps to himself, but I had a surprisingly good time working on the lab report with him last night. Plus, he's pretty cute."

"Woah, woah, woah, wait," Peyton turned to her friend. "Lana, you have a boyfriend."

"I know," Lana replied, bemused by severity of Peyton's reaction. "That's why I was saying that you should ask him to homecoming, not me."

"But you said he was cute," Peyton pointed out.

"From an objective standpoint, yes," Lana replied, her cheeks reddening slightly. "Just because I'm dating Whitney doesn't mean I don't know a cute guy when I see one."

"Oh my God, you have a thing for him, don't you?" she practically shrieked.

"Whitney's my boyfriend, of course I have a thing for him," Lana told her defensively.

"We both know that I wasn't referring to Whitney."

Lana conceded. "Blaine's just…different from what I expected. He actually listens when I speak, he's polite—"

"And Whitney isn't?"

"Well, not all the time," Lana admitted.

"Maybe you're the one who should take Blaine to homecoming then," Peyton said. "Besides, I think if I can get Michael Hamilton to be lab partners with me, I can get him to take me to the dance."

Lana responded with a noncommittal hum, lost in her own thoughts about Peyton had said to her.

0-0-0

The next two weeks were weird for Blaine. Like in Chemistry, Lana would make conversation with Blaine instead of devoting all of her attention to Peyton before and after class. She even greeted him in the hallway in passing. But the cherry on top of the weirdness sundae had come during fourth period. They were starting another lab in class, and as promised, the students were allowed to pick their partners.

"Hey, Blaine," Lana had leaned over to address him.

"Yeah, Lana?"

"Do you want to be lab partners?"

Blaine shook his head. He must have heard wrong. "What?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to be lab partners. I thought we made a pretty good team last time," she said.

"But, Peyton—"

"She's trying to get Michael Hamilton to ask her to homecoming. I've been officially ditched…not that that's the reason why I'm asking you, I was going to ask you anyway—"

"I'd love to be partners, Lana," Blaine beamed. "Let's go find a lab table."

That's how they had ended up here, in Blaine's loft again, finishing in another lab report. Blaine was sitting on the floor while Lana was sprawled out on the couch.

"God, Blaine, I can't thank you enough for helping me with these labs," Lana groaned as she sat up. "I hate Chemistry."

"Strong words coming from someone in the honors section," Blaine remarked.

"Well, honors was Nell's doing, not mine. She insisted on me taking all honors classes. If it were up to me, I'd just stick to honors English and History. I know she wants what's best for me, but…for once I'd like to feel like I'm in control of my own destiny, you know?"

"You have no idea," Blaine agreed a tinge too enthusiastically. "I'm guessing Nell wants you home for dinner again?"

A small guilty grin spread across Lana's full lips. "It's not that she doesn't trust you. Honestly, I think she's still a little bitter that your dad dumped her back in high school."

"I still can't believe they dated," Blaine said as he helped Lana gather her things. "Do think she'd let me walk you home?"

"I don't think she could object to such a chivalrous gesture," Lana replied playfully.

Blaine and Lana spent the mile walk from the Anderson farm to the Lang household chatting casually in the chilly October evening air.

"You know, this is the longest conversation we've ever had that hasn't revolved around Chemistry," Lana mentioned as the couple strolled up the driveway.

"Hm, yeah, I guess it is," Blaine replied.

"We should do it again sometime," suggested Lana.

"We should," Blaine concurred. A brief silence ensued as he worked up the courage to ask Lana the question that had been on his mind for the past two weeks. "Are you going to the homecoming dance?"

"I am, with Whitney," she told him, her tone firm but somehow sympathetic at the same time.

"Right," Blaine said. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so stupid. "Of course."

"Are going to go?" Lana inquired.

"Nah, I was planning on skipping it," Blaine answered. "I don't have a date."

"Well, if you change your mind, I might save you a dance," Lana told him. She pressed a kiss into Blaine's cheek. "Good night, Blaine."

"G'Night, Lana," he exhaled in reply as Lana disappeared into her house. He jogged to the end of the Lang's driveway, and only when he was sure there wasn't anyone around sped home. Only tonight, running didn't seem like enough. He knew it was impossible, but Blaine felt like flying.

0-0-0

Well, if you change your mind, I might save you a dance. The words echoed in his mind endlessly as he watched Lana, the newly crowned Homecoming Queen, slow-dance with her boyfriend, the Homecoming King. To be honest, her words were the only reason Blaine had showed up to the dance that night. Lana was his only chance, his only chance at being normal. Blaine's extraterrestrial origins and his subsequent abilities already made him enough of a freak. The last thing he wanted or needed was to be gay and add to the burden of secrets already resting on his shoulders. Since Lana was the only girl he felt anything romantic for, Blaine was ready to do almost anything to be with her.

"Hey Blaine!" Pete called as he and Chloe made their way through the crowd to where Blaine was standing on the edge of the dance floor.

"Hey guys," Blaine greeted them, unable to keep himself from sounding dejected. "Having fun?"

"Well, you're certainly not," observed Chloe. "Come on, Anderson, dance with me."

"No way," Blaine immediately refused his friend. "I don't dance."

"Oh come on, man," Pete argued. "You haven't even stepped on the floor the whole night. We were beginning to wonder why you showed up in the first place."

"Homecoming's an important high school rite of passage," Blaine said lamely.

"Just one dance, Blaine," Chloe pleaded. "Please?"

Blaine stopped to think it over. It couldn't hurt, in fact, maybe he was making himself too available for Lana. If he danced with Chloe, maybe, just maybe, Lana would be tempted to make good on her offer.

"Okay, Chloe, you win," Blaine surrendered as he allowed the blonde to drag him onto the dance floor. He placed a hand on Chloe's slim waist, clasped hers with his other one, and began to sway. It started out a little awkwardly, but after a minute or two, Blaine began to lose himself in the music and his moves grew more confident. Apparently he was doing something right, because Chloe couldn't stop beaming and giggling in a very un-Chloe-like way.

"You're a liar, Blaine Anderson," she shouted over the pumping bass and the whoops of their peers. "You are an amazing dancer. What other secrets are you hiding under that mop top of yours?"

Blaine laughed off her accusation and twirled her instead of answering her question. He pulled her in close and told her sincerely, "You look really pretty tonight, Chloe."

Chloe's breath caught in her thought as her blue-green eyes bore into Blaine's, paralyzed by his compliment. "Th-thank you. You look very…um, dapper."

The moment was ruined when the song ended and Blaine felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was met with the sight of Lana, a vision in her pale pink ball gown and tiara.

"I was wondering if I could have this dance," she quickly glanced over at a shell-shocked Chloe. "If that's okay with you, I don't want to interrupt—"

"You weren't," Chloe cut her off, her voice suddenly sounding thick. "Go ahead, Blaine, dance with her."

"Thanks Chloe," he told her, not even sparing a look back at his friend, completely missing her heartbroken expression, allowing Lana to lead him away from her. "Catch you later."

Blaine and Lana danced the next few songs together, earning quite a few incredulous looks from their classmates. But no one was more astonished than Blaine at what happened when a slow song began to play.

"Where are you going, Blaine?" Lana asked as Blaine as he started to break their embrace.

"It's a slow song, Lana," he informed her, confused that she wasn't catching on that it was his cue to go.

"And…?"

"And…I just figured…where's Whitney?" Blaine spluttered.

"Probably drinking with the rest of the football team behind the dumpsters," Lana sighed exasperatedly.

"You really want to dance with me?"

Lana simply nodded, her eyes boring into his, and Blaine couldn't help but notice how their color was so similar to his. He gulped and pulled her flush against his body, circling his arms around her waist. Lana didn't waste any time wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his chest. They side-stepped in unison as the cheesy ballad the DJ had chosen played.

The song ended and Lana lifted her head from where it had been leaning on Blaine's chest.

"Thanks for the dance, Lana," Blaine told her softly.

"I… Blaine," she replied breathless, her brow knitted from seemingly troubling thoughts. "Can I try something?'

Blaine didn't get a chance to verbally reply before Lana's lips had connected to Blaine's. And no, there weren't any fireworks like he'd heard so much about, but Blaine couldn't deny that the kiss didn't feel bad. It felt nice. Lana's lips began to move, and Blaine mirrored her actions eagerly, too immersed in the liplock to notice the stunned gasps coming from the other students, or the gym doors opening…

"WHAT THE FUCK? ANDERSON, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND?"

Blaine and Lana immediately jumped apart. Whitney along with three of his cronies were barreling toward them, a look of rage amplified by alcohol twisting the blonde boy's features.

"YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!" Whitney bellowed and proceeded to punch Blaine square in the jaw. It hurt. It never hurts, Blaine thought to himself frantically, why does it hurt? Rubbing his jaw, Blaine glimpsed the hand that had just hit him. Sitting on Whitney's ring finger was his class ring, an ornate silver band with a green gemstone in the middle. All hopes of Blaine defending himself had been sent sailing out the window as soon as he saw that stone. "I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR SCRAWNY ASS!"

At this point, Lana tried to intervene. She leapt in between the two boys. "Whitney! Stop! This wasn't his fault—"

"Shut up, Lana," he spat at her, shoving her out of the way. "Nothing you say is going to change the fact that Anderson's about to get the shit beaten out of him."

"No!" Lana threw herself at her boyfriend. "Stop it! NOW, Whitney! If you hurt him, I swear I'll—"

Whitney was too far gone in his drunken fury to register Lana's threats. He grabbed Blaine by the collar of his shirt and blazer and dragged him out of the gym, the rest of the students parting like the Red Sea in order to let Whitney and his three goons pass. Pete, Chloe, and Lana tried to chase after them, but the football players had already thrown Blaine in the back of one their trucks and taken off before the trio could catch up.

Blaine could feel the meteor rock crippling him the through the cab of the truck as it drove to the outskirts of town. Its effects seemed to be worsening as they continued to drive and Blaine dreaded where they might taking him. The truck screeched to a stop, the blaring metal song the men were listening to turned off, and as they hauled Blaine out of the flatbed, his worst fears were confirmed. They had arrived at Riley Field, the place where his parents had found him twelve years ago, the place that had the highest concentration of meteor rock in all of Westerville. Blaine was fucked.

The four football players dragged Blaine through the seemingly endless rows of corn stalks until they reached a wooden post that was usually used for hanging scarecrows. Two guys from Whitney's posse, Sean Calvin and Jeff Johnson, restrained his arms while Derek Fox looked on with twisted enjoyment as Whitney rolled up his sleeves and readied himself to beat up Blaine.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Anderson?" Whitney demanded as he delivered the first blow to Blaine's gut. "You do my girlfriend's homework a couple times so that means you put the moves on her at fucking homecoming dance? I swear, the freshmen this year are a bunch of arrogant sons of bitches. Let me make myself really clear then," Whitney halted his beating to fist his hands in Blaine's shirt and yank him they were eye-to-eye. "Lana is mine, and if I ever catch you near her again you won't make it to sophomore year, you little bastard." He released Blaine with a shove and a sardonic laugh. "You know, it's funny, I had you pegged as a homo, Anderson." Whitney's friends sniggered along with him. "I don't know what's worse, messing with my girl or liking dick." He kicked Blaine. "Stupid little fag. We're going to make an example out of you."

They proceeded to strip Blaine down to his boxers and strung him up onto the post.

"Go fuck yourself, Anderson," Whitney spat before he and his chums left, cackling and shouting homophobic slurs until they were out of range.

Blaine began to sob hysterically as he shivered in the biting autumn cold. Part of his weeping had to do with the pain, being exposed to meteor rock was debilitating enough, but the agony was increased ten-fold by the beating he had received. With meteor rock around, the pain refused to ebb and heal. But the better part of Blaine's crying had to do with the irony of the situation. All Blaine had wanted was to fit in, to feel normal for once in his life, but no matter what he did, it seemed that he was harassed no matter what. That enraged him. He struggled against his bonds, yet he too weak from the meteor rock to have any effect on the tightly tied ropes around his arms and legs. Wait until I'm away from this godforsaken rock, Blaine vowed to himself, I'm going to make those assholes pay, I'm going to tear them apart…

The cops found Blaine a few hours later. Pete and Chloe had made the trip out to Riley Field with Blaine's parents, but Lana was nowhere to be seen. That had upset Blaine even more. The fact that this situation was technically Lana's fault, and yet she didn't care enough about Blaine to see if he was alright after what her jackass boyfriend had did to him.

"Mrs. Anderson, he needs to be taken to the hospital," Officer Hanover tried to tell a crying Martha as she embraced her son. She exchanged an uneasy glare with her husband.

"Let us get him home first," Jonathon Anderson negotiated with the officer.

"Are you sure, Jonathon?" the police man asked his friend.

"Trust me, Greg, I know my son," Jonathon assured him. "I'm more concerned about finding the punks who did this to him."

"We will, Jonathon. I'm sorry about all of this," he apologized.

"I am, too" Jonathon replied somberly. He turned to Blaine's friends. "Chloe, Pete, it means the world to Blaine that you two came out here with us, but we're going to take him home now. If you want, you could stop by tomorrow if you like."

"Of course, Mr. Anderson," Chloe said before she and Pete headed back to her car. "We'll come by tomorrow for sure."

0-0-0

"Martha, it sounds wonderful, but how would we pay for it?" Blaine heard his father murmuring to his mother. "Take out another loan? We'd lose the farm if we fell behind on payments."

"This is our son's safety, Jonathon. Besides, the website said they offered scholarships. Blaine's a straight A student and with his…situation, I'm sure Dalton would understand. They have a—"

"Zero tolerance bullying policy, I know," Jonathon finished for his wife. "I still think we should talk to Blaine about it though before we make any decisions."

Blaine closed his bedroom door, he'd been sulking in his room since they had gotten home last night, he had heard enough. Blaine had never felt more like a burden in his life. His parents were considering put their home on the line just so he could be safe. They had always been so patient with him, so supportive of emerging abilities. He hated himself for not being the normal son they deserved. Jonathon had told him earlier this year that he was an alien, a freaking alien with a spaceship stashed in the storm cellar and everything, and Blaine couldn't help but wonder if his…romantic inclinations were a part of his extraterrestrial makeup. Maybe he came from some freaky gay planet or something.

He knew one thing for sure, there was no way he was going to that Dalton school, no matter how badly his mother tried to convince him to go. Blaine was sick of being a liability. He'd wait for the day when Whitney wasn't wearing his class ring, and then he'd get his revenge. Blaine would show him who the stupid little fag was—

Blaine was shaken from his thoughts by a knocking on his bedroom door. He rose from his bed to answer it. "Mom, I told you I'm not hungry…"

But it wasn't his mother at his door. It was Lana. A disheveled, puffy-eyed Lana. "Blaine?" her voice sounded rough from crying.

"H-hi," he replied stunned. Lana had been the last person he was expecting to see.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she began shakily. Even though Blaine wasn't much taller than her, Lana seemed so small and fragile to him at the moment. "I…I made some cookies for you. They're downstairs if you want one."

"No, thanks. I'm good for now," he told her. She simply nodded in reply, visibly trying to fight back the tears that were brimming in her hazel eyes. "Do you want to come in?"

"I'm so sorry," Lana gasped, the tears she was struggling to restrain running down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Blaine. I didn't mean to…it was all my fault…and Whitney! I'm such an awful person…cheating on my boyfriend…and I was so scared…so scared of what they might do to you…and what actually they did to you…it was horrible…but I like you Blaine, really really like you and…"she broke off into hyperventilating and wheezing.

"Shhhh," Blaine, acting completely on impulse, gently pulled Lana into his arms. She continued to sob, staining the white cotton of his t-shirt with her tears. "It's okay, Lana. I understand, I don't blame you. They were drunk and, not that that's an excuse, but Officer Hanover called this morning and said they're already taking care of it."

Lana looked up at Blaine. "It's over between us. I mean obviously, there'd be something seriously wrong with me if I stayed with him after he did something this awful. I'm just so sorry, Blaine." She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "And I'm sorry that you're the one consoling me. I came here to comfort you and I couldn't even do that…"

"Don't worry about it," Blaine said, leading her over to his bed to sit down. "After last night, it's kind of nice to be the one doing the comforting."

Lana's lips twitched upward into a minute smile and she took a deep breath. "Are you okay? I heard they beat you up pretty badly and you never made it to the hospital."

"I'm alright, I have a pretty tough skin," Blaine replied, trying to keep his tone from betraying too much. "I don't regret it, you know."

"Regret what?" Lana questioned, her eyes still shining with a few lingering tears.

"The kiss."

"You don't?" Lana's tone was full of disbelief. "Really? Even after all that happened?"

"No. I've never felt the way I feel for you with any other girl, Lana," he confessed.

"Oh, Blaine," Lana exhaled before their lips met. The kiss was slow and tender, Blaine's eyes fluttered shut as he endeavored to lose himself in the kiss like Lana had, completely unaware that Chloe and Pete had just stepped into view. The duo stood dumbstruck in the doorway and just stared for moment before Pete tugged Chloe back downstairs, telling Mrs. Anderson that Blaine and Lana were "busy" and that they'd come back later when she had asked why they were leaving so soon.

0-0-0

Blaine didn't end up seeking revenge on Whitney and his sidekicks. Their arrest, court-mandated community service, and in-school suspension was a satisfactory amount of disciplinary action in his eyes (though he couldn't resist stacking the four boys' pickup trucks on top of each other at the next football game). Besides, he figured that losing Lana to him was the ultimate payback. Not that Blaine was only dating her out of spite, his affection for Lana was entirely genuine, and the couple had been going strong for three months. Blaine was an ideal boyfriend, handsome, polite, and thoughtful. There was just one small problem; he couldn't get aroused when he made out with Lana. At first, he didn't think it was too much of a dilemma, Blaine had never had a girlfriend before, and that if he gave the relationship some time, he'd develop those feelings for Lana. Yet, here he was, three months in, and those feelings had yet to arise. He had tried fantasizing about her when was alone, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get himself hard when he thought about her. Blaine knew he shouldn't be having this problem, he was a healthy teenage boy and Lana was the prettiest girl in school. Yet instead of dealing with what this meant, he opted to ignore it and maintain his charade.

He had a close call one clear but bitter afternoon in January. Blaine and Lana had gone to her place to do homework together.

"So, what do you want to start with? English or Chemistry?" Blaine asked, emptying his backpack, oblivious of the mischievous glint in Lana's eyes.

"Neither," she informed him as-a-matter-of-factly and drawing Blaine in for a hungry kiss, climbing into Blaine's lap as she did so.

He let out a choked noise of surprise at Lana's sudden advances, extracting his lips from hers. "Nell would kill me if she found us doing this here."

"Well, it's a good thing she's at Garden Club until six then," Lana said in a sultry voice. Her hands began to slide down Blaine's button-down flannel shirt as she nipped at his neck.

"Still, I'm not sure if this is—LANA!" Blaine practically threw his girlfriend off of him when her hand had pressed into the front of his jeans. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I, um…" She hadn't been expecting Blaine to react like this. "Blaine, I can't tell you how much I appreciate how patient you've been with our relationship, how you've never pressured me to do anything, how you've always let me set the pace. But I just figured, you're a guy and—"

"Lana, I don't ever, ever want you to feel obligated to do anything for me," he urged.

"But I don't feel obligated," she insisted. "I'm ready, Blaine. I want to take the next step in our relationship."

"Oh," Blaine said, trying to process what Lana had just told him.

"Maybe I should have told you that before I tried to grope you," Lana blushed and both teens laughed.

0-0-0

Even with Lana's admission, they still took the physical aspect of their relationship slowly during the following months. Blaine tried to make their make out sessions as much about Lana as possible, which on the surface seemed like he was a selfless lover, but in reality he did it so he wouldn't have to think of Ben Affleck to give off the impression that Blaine enjoyed Lana's ministrations. Yet, Blaine's straight charade came crashing down one night that spring at a party that Jason Jenkins and his older sister were having. Blaine had arrived alone, Lana had been competing at a horse show in Dayton that day and had made it to the finals in her event, therefore delaying her return to Westerville by a few hours. She told Blaine that she'd call him and meet him at the party later, so Blaine spent an hour or so hanging with Pete and other guys from school. When the conversation turned into an interrogation on what is was like to hook up with Lana Lang, Blaine decided it was time to excuse himself and get a drink.

He was leaving the kitchen when he saw him. The tall, lithe man that was leaning on the wall on the living room. His hair was a sandy, strawberry blonde color that framed his face in loose curls, his skin was pallid and fair, his eyes two orbs of a brilliant blue, his lips full and pouting, his jaw line strong and chiseled. Although he was definitely all man, he oozed maturity and sophistication, there was a boyish quality to his appearance as well. Blaine had stopped in the middle of his tracks to stare. The man's eyes momentarily caught Blaine's and the freshman was jolted back into reality. He immediately averted his gaze to his shoes, blushing furiously, and started to shuffle out of the room back to his friends. Blaine was so intent on not looking at the man again, that he hadn't seen him follow Blaine into the hallway.

"Hey handsome."

Blaine yelped and nearly shot up into the ceiling at the sound of the man's voice in such close proximity to him. He spun around hastily.

"H-hi." Blaine was surprised he could form coherent words.

"I saw you checking me out back there—"

"I wasn't checking you out!" Blaine exclaimed, his voice rising embarrassingly high. "You just…you looked like this person I know but then I got a closer look and then I realized you weren't…weren't the person I know, I mean."

The man cocked an eyebrow is skepticism and endearment. "Right. I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Ideally," Blaine groaned as he wondered if he could die from embarrassment.

The man laughed lightly. "I'm Jeremiah."

"Blaine."

"Well, Blaine, I was going to ask you if I could get you something stronger than Diet Coke, but since you weren't checking me out after all, I guess I'm going to have to rescind my offer," Jeremiah told him wryly.

"Oh, um…" Blaine didn't know how to reply.

"That was a joke, Blaine. I'm definitely getting you a beer now, you need some in alcohol in your system before you explode."

Blaine just continued to stare at him flabbergasted. Unfortunately for Jeremiah, alcohol didn't have any effect on Blaine, but nevertheless he managed to carry a semi-articulate conversation with the younger boy. Blaine learned that Jeremiah went to school with Jason's sister at Oberlin, where he was studying Biology. He worked at the Gap (and was recently promoted to Junior Manager) at the local mall to afford the study abroad trip to Germany he was planning.

"I can't imagine what it must be like to be gay in a town like Westerville," mused Jeremiah, setting down his beer.

"Oh, uh, I'm not gay," Blaine said. He was only met with Jeremiah's unconvinced glare. "I have a girlfriend."

Jeremiah snorted. "You can be gay and have a girlfriend, Blaine, it's called being in the closet."

Blaine scrambled to defend himself but was only capable of producing a few strangled sounds of protest.

Jeremiah remained unfazed by Blaine's discomfort. "Tell you what, I'm kind of drunk and you're pretty cute, so I'll help you out."

"What do you mean, 'help me out'?" Blaine inquired anxiously.

"I'm going to help to find out if you're gay or not. We'll go upstairs and fool around, and if you're not into it, then congratulations, you're straight. But if you are into it…well, we'll take it from there."

Blaine wanted to, really wanted to. However, he hesitated. There was no turning back if he did this, and Lana…Blaine wished that he wasn't invulnerable to alcohol, he could really use some clouded judgment at the moment. "Oh-okay."

Blaine allowed Jeremiah to lead him through the crowded household, praying that no one recognized him as the older man led him upstairs and into the first empty bedroom they found. Blaine joined Jeremiah, perched on the edge of the bed, uneasy and unsure how to begin.

"Blaine, relax," Jeremiah chuckled. "And come here, I can't kiss you from all the way over there."

Blaine let out a nervous laugh and leaned in closer, leaving Jeremiah to close the distance between their lips.

Fireworks. Blaine felt fireworks explode inside of him as his lips moved with Jeremiah's…as well as dick spring to attention. He gasped as they broke apart for air.

"So, what's the verdict?" Jeremiah murmured.

"Gay," Blaine panted. "One hundred percent gay."

They sought each other's mouths again almost immediately, their tongues tangling, as Jeremiah eased Blaine down on the bed and climbed on top of him. He moaned at the contact of the bulge in his pants with against Jeremiah's groin. Jeremiah began rocking his hips, bringing both men to full hardness rather quickly.

Blaine was content to keep frotting and making out all night, but Jeremiah apparently had other ideas as he snaked a hand between their sweltering bodies.

"This okay?" he huffed into Blaine's ear.

Blaine nodded. "Uh-huh."

Jeremiah rolled off him slightly and began to undo Blaine's jeans. His eyes screwed shut and he gulped down a few steadying breaths as Jeremiah freed Blaine's erection from its cloth confines.

"Happy birthday to me," Jeremiah muttered flippantly at the sight of Blaine's cock. "Definitely glad you're on our team." He circled his hand around Blaine's length and began to move with steady, measured strokes.

Blaine was torn from the throes of ecstasy caused by his first handjob by a muffled ringing. Jeremiah's hand stilled and he looked at him expectantly. "You going to answer that?"

Blaine procured the small black brick from back pocket and blanched as soon as he saw the number that was trying to reach him.             614-555-3982      . Lana. All at once, the guilt and shame that Blaine had been shoving to the back of his mind engulfed him.

"I have to go," he said, on the verge of tears, as he tucked his now soft cock back into his pants and stood up.

"Blaine, what's going on? Why the sudden—"

But Blaine didn't answer him. He sped out of the bedroom and out of the house, not caring whether he exposed his abilities as he made his getaway. He didn't stop running until he reached the farm a few minutes later.

Jonathon and Martha were watching the news when they heard the slam of front door and their son's sobs from upstairs a moment later. They exchanged a concerned look and Jonathon got up from the couch to tend to his son.

"Blaine," Jonathon called through the door.

"Go away!" Blaine cried back.

"Blaine," he implored. "Can I come in?" Jonathon took the lack of objection as permission to enter. Blaine was splayed out on his bed, his face buried in his pillow, shaking with sobs. Jonathon took a seat at Blaine's side and rested a strong, supportive hand on his back. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"I…I can't…" Blaine wept, turning his head so could make eye contact with his father. "I just can't…"

"Blaine, you know you can tell me everything."

"Not this."

"Why not?"

"Dad...if I told you...it'd change..."

"Blaine, you know I love no matter what. Nothing could change that ev—"

"I CHEATED ON LANA!" He bellowed before breaking down again.

He had to admit, Jonathon was thrown for an instant, but nevertheless, he pressed on in his calm, composed, fatherly manner. "Well, Blaine that doesn't sound like you, but I'm sure it's not hopeless."

"No, Dad. You don't understand!" Blaine griped, rolling over face-first into his tear-stained pillow again.

"Well then, help me understand, Blaine," Jonathon kept his voice level but firm.

Blaine heaved a massive sigh and swung himself into a sitting position next to his father. He had never seen such a look of pain and fear on his son's face. "I didn't just cheat on Lana…" another gigantic inhalation "…I cheated on her with…with a guy."

Jonathon couldn't believe his ears. He almost wished that he had let Martha handle this one…but no, he could do this. Jonathon steeled himself. "Was this a spur-of-the moment thing or…had this been something you've been wanting to try…you know, for a while?"

"Both," Blaine voice was wavering again.

"Okay, and did you…well, did you enjoy it?"

"Yes," The volume of Blaine's answer had waned to nearly mute.

"And would you like to do it again?"

Blaine looked at his father and nodded. His bottom lip was wedged between his teeth biting back tears. "Are you mad?"

"Of course not," Jonathon assured him, pulling Blaine into an embrace and planting a kiss on the top of his head. "Son, your mother and I love you regardless of who you choose to love. We will always love and support who you are."

Blaine broke down again. "Dad…thank you…I…thank you so much…"

"Don't thank me, son. Thank you for being honest with me."

There was a knock from the doorway. Martha was leaning in the frame, a warm smile on her face. "Everything okay?"

Both men nodded and Martha joined them on the bed, drawing Blaine into her arms.

"Martha?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you still have the number for Dalton Academy?"

Blaine and Martha both gaped at Jonathon with identical looks of surprise. They responded at the same time, Martha with "I do", and Blaine with "Dad, you don't have to."

"No, Blaine. You already have to hide one aspect of who you are with your abilities, and you deserve to be in a place where you don't have to hide any more than you have to," Jonathon told him seriously.

"But, Dad, we can't afford Dalton," disputed Blaine.

"We figure something out," Jonathon contended.

0-0-0

Blaine found it hard to believe that the beautiful, timeworn, and ornate building he was sitting in was part of a school. He felt like he was at The Xavier Institute from X-Men, or Hogwarts, or something, but it definitely wasn't Westerville High. Blaine, dressed in his Sunday Best, had a gone a tour of the school, aced his interview with the Headmaster, and now all that was left was to finalize things with the Director of Admissions, a kind woman by the name of Ms. Handler.

"Well, everything seems to be in order, there is just one matter we need to straighten out, and that's the matter of Blaine's scholarship," the woman said in a business-like tone.

"Is there something wrong with Blaine's grades?" Martha asked, panic flashing across her face.

"No! No, they're, well, they're perfect," she amended herself. "Our cashier's office was looking over his application and it seems your demonstrated need exceeds the maximum allotment of an academic scholarship."

All three members of the Anderson family digested what the woman had said with expressions ranging from anger to disappointment to despair. Before any of them could truly react properly, Ms. Handler continued.

"However, given Blaine's situation and how well he has taken to Dalton, we can offer him an extracurricular scholarship that would cover the rest of your need." The Andersons let out a collective sigh of relief. "Now, the only thing we need to figure out is what Blaine will participate in to fulfill the scholarship. Do you play any sports, Blaine?"

"Football."

"No."

"Dad," Blaine pleaded in quiet, tight voice. "I can control—"

"Blaine has a very severe case of asthma," Jonathon told the woman over his son's protests. "Sports are out of the question," he asserted, casting a warning glance at Blaine.

"Well then," Ms. Handler said, breezing over the tension that had arisen between the father and son sitting across from her. "Is there anything else you like to do? Debate, Community Service, Music…"

"I can sing," he blurted out. His parents looked at him in astonishment. "Or I mean, I'd like to try to sing. I can play the piano and the guitar a little too."

"Wonderful! We have an acapella group here at Dalton, The Warblers, they perform at various school functions and compete at Show Choir competitions every year. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in being a part of, Blaine?"

"Definitely," Blaine responded without hesitation.

"Splendid," Ms. Handler grinned before jotting a note down onto a Post-It. "I'll contact one of The Council Members, the Warblers are a student run organization, and Wes, David, or Thad should be in touch with you within the week to set up an audition. Of course, if The Warblers don't work out, I can contact Mr. Owens and I'm sure we can set up something with the school orchestra as a back-up. Does that sound satisfactory to everyone?" Ms. Handler inquired, cautiously eyeing a still-speechless Martha and Jonathon.

"I guess so," said Martha, the first to recover.

"Great," Ms. Handler clapped her hands together with an air of finality. "Then let me be the first to say, Welcome to Dalton Academy, Blaine Anderson."

"Wow," Kurt said, cradling his now-empty wine glass in his hand as he soaked it all in.

"I know," Blaine commiserated, "it has all the makings of a teen drama on the CW."

Kurt chuckled. "But things got better once you transferred to Dalton?"

"Exponentially," Blaine assured him. "I broke up with Lana before I transferred, and once I did, it was pretty much smooth sailing until graduation. It turned out I was a better singer than I thought, I ended up being the lead soloist my junior and senior years."

"Of course you were," Kurt rolled his eyes good-humoredly and pecked Blaine on the lips. "Something tells me boys and girls were throwing themselves at you left and right after they heard you sing."

Blaine blushed slightly. "There were a few guys in high school and college, but I never got too close to any of them because of my secret."

That piece of information shocked Kurt. "So I'm the first boyfriend you've ever told? I'm…" Kurt searched for the right word, but settled on "different?"

"Different, special, exceptional, beautiful…" Blaine listed breezily.

Kurt blushed. "Well, I don't know about that."

Blaine opted to try to convince Kurt he was with his actions rather than his words, so he captured Kurt's lips in a passionate kiss. After a few moments though, Blaine pulled away concerned since Kurt had fallen unresponsive. He noted the distracted look on Kurt's face and tensed. "What's wrong? What are you thinking about?"

Kurt shook himself from his daze and tried to brush it off. "Nothing. More kissing, please."

"Kurt."

"You're going to judge me," Kurt whined.

"You don't know that," insisted Blaine. "I won't, I promise."

Kurt heaved a sigh. "Ugh, I know it happened like a hundred years ago and you're going to think I'm irrational and jealous but, I can't help thinking about Jeremiah."

"Oh?"

"And that…well, we both kind of fit a certain type and in comparison—"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Blaine cut him off. "Jeremiah was…well, he wasn't nothing but he was arrogant, manipulative, and vapid…while you're just not. You're the polar opposite of those things. And yeah, maybe I like a certain look on a guy, but he's going nothing on you, Kurt. And you're right, it was a hundred years ago, I was confused, and I never saw him again."

Kurt studied the man before him. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"

Blaine erupted into a fit of modest laughter, "Me? Please, Kurt, were you listening to me for the past hour? I'm like the least articulate person on the planet."

Kurt dismissed his comment with a roll of his eyes as he set his wine glass down. He leaned in to kiss just below Blaine's ear and whispered, "You were pretty articulate today on Skype."

Blaine groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head at Kurt's words. "How do you always know exactly how to turn me on?"

"Well, I—" Kurt's reply was stifled by the sudden yawn that escaped his mouth.

Blaine couldn't help but smile endearingly at his boyfriend. "It seems like we stayed up past someone's bedtime."

Kurt smacked Blaine's arm playfully, aware that it must have felt like the brush of a feather on his impenetrable skin intead of the sting he was aiming for. "Shut up."

"Come on, I'll take you home, we'll be sneaky so your dad won't find out that you stayed out past your curfew," Blaine teased as he stood up.

"You're such a little—" Kurt lunged at Blaine, but found himself grabbing at air by the time he reached the spot where Blaine had been standing. A fraction of a second later, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He whirled around and was met with the sight of a smirking Blaine. Kurt struggled to put on his best bitch face and suppress the smile and rush of chills that traveled down his back that usually occurred whenever Blaine used his powers. "Very cute. Just use your—"another yawn ruined his retort.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch what you were saying," Blaine taunted, sweeping Kurt into his arms and beginning to lift off.

Another tingle slithered down Kurt's spine at the sight of Blaine flying with curly hair and in sweats. He wasn't sure why he found it so arousing, perhaps it was because Blaine using his powers while in his civilian appearance reminded Kurt that this was real. Blaine really had feelings for Kurt, he really was Superman, and they were really in a relationship together. The ride back to Kurt's place was quicker than it had been yesterday, Kurt assumed they had flown faster since Blaine probably didn't want to be caught airborne in Ohio State athletic wear.

"Do you want me to tuck you in?" Blaine teased as he set Kurt down on his balcony.

"Do you want me to punch you?"

"Hey now, no need to get hostile there, Hummel," Blaine raised his hands in mock-surrender.

"Just kiss me goodnight before I say something mean about your eyebrows."