Please don't set these on fire read the note that Kurt found accompanying the grand floral arrangement waiting for him on his desk the following morning when he arrived at work. He couldn't help but blush and glance at Blaine, who was immersed in a phone call with a source, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop as he conversed.

Kurt plopped down at his desk, pulled out his laptop, and opened Skype.

KurtHummel: Very subtle, Anderson.

Kurt was convinced that Blaine was too engrossed in his call to reply to his message until his screen flashed to denote Blaine's reply.

BAnderson: Too much?

KurtHummel: Maybe just a tad. But they're beautiful without a doubt.

Blaine continued to multitask, carrying on a conversation with the source and Kurt.

BAnderson: Just like you then.

KurtHummel: Be sappier, I dare you.

BAnderson: Your eyes are more brilliant than the most sparkling Caribbean sea

BAnderson: Your lips are softer than roses made of silk

KurtHummel: Stop, please stop, you're nauseating me.

BAnderson: You skin is more flawless than the marble of Michelangelo's David

KurtHummel: Cease and desist before I'm forced to commit a murder-suicide

BAnderson: Just following orders, boss

"Well, would you look at that, Hummel, either you've started cultivating small jungle on your desk or you've been on larcenous rampage, stealing garish centerpieces from a painfully tacky wedding reception last night."

"I think they're pretty too, Sue," Kurt muttered. "What is it?"

"I need to see your notes on Metropolis's Mysterious Explosions or whatever dreadful tentative title you've got going. My office. Ten minutes," she barked before regarding Blaine, who'd finished his phone call by now. "Oh, and Pubes-On-My-Head," Blaine looked at her slack-jawed and disbelievingly while Kurt bit back giggles. "Not an awful job on the lizard sex trade piece. Good to know I didn't just hire you because you can type faster than My Gal Friday."

Once Sue had disappeared into her office, Kurt saw a new message pop up almost immediately.

BAnderson: Shut up

Kurt laughed and rolled his eyes before typing back a reply.

KurtHummel: If it makes you feel any better, she called me Tickle Me Doe Face for my entire first year as a staff reporter.

0-0-0

"So if the botanical garden sitting on your desk is any indication, Blake is doing some serious groveling," Tina remarked as she rummaged through her purse for her pack of cigarettes.

"Oh, um, yeah," Kurt replied, distracting himself with his iPhone in order to not have to make eye contact with them.

"You haven't taken him back, have you?" inquired Mercedes.

"No," Kurt lied.

"Then help yourself, my friend," Tina chirped, holding out her Malboro Lights.

"Wait, what?" Kurt asked.

"Well, didn't you say you only quit smoking because of Blake? Well, now that's he's not in the picture anymore there's nothing to worry about, right?" Tina reasoned.

Shit, Kurt cursed internally as he scrambled to come up with an explanation on the spot. "Yeah, but…even though I haven't taken him back doesn't mean smoking is all of a sudden not a deadly activity. I mean, I think my skin has improved significantly since I quit so I think I'll just—"

"Cut the crap, Kurt," Mercedes interjected. She always did know when I was lying. "You and Chris Brown are back together again, aren't you?"

"First of all, stop calling him that," Kurt spat at her. "And second, so what if we are? You know nothing about our relationship."

"That's just it!" Mercedes exclaimed. "We don't know anything about this guy! It took us a week just to get you to tell us his name! And you still don't tell us anything about him unless we interrogate you when in the past we couldn't get you to shut up when you had a crush!"

"That's because this isn't some stupid, adolescent infatuation!" Kurt countered. "And since when is privacy a crime?"

"It's not," Tina intervened. "We're just afraid you're keeping things from us because there's something wrong. You've been…pretty defensive lately."

"Well, nothing's wrong," Kurt snapped. "Blai-Blake and I made up last night. He knows what he did was wrong and is deliberately going to prevent it from happening again, because he's well aware if he does, I'm out of there quicker than a bat out of hell. It's not just like we hopped into bed for a round of make-up sex either," he shot a resentful glare at Mercedes, "we're taking it slow this time. I'm not going to see him again until Friday night and he's going to have to pull out all the stops before I can trust him again."

"I still think he's using you," Mercedes groused. "It doesn't add up! You don't want us to meet him, he's only taken you out twice—"

"That's only because of his—"

"—of his 'job', I know," she finished for him. "And he's still technically in the closet? What the hell kind of relationship is that?"

For a moment, Kurt contemplated coming clean and just tell them he was dating Blaine. But that would lead to a whole new level of stickiness, since he'd just have to make up a whole new batch of lies explaining why he didn't tell him, and why Blaine "worked late" when being a staff reporter for The Planet paid so well, not to mention how Blaine, who to them was a nerdy weakling, could cream another guy in a fight. So, Kurt decided against the truth, choosing to let all of his pent-up aggression and bitterness he'd been harboring to burst.

"For the love of God, Mercedes would you just fuck off?" Mercedes and Tina gaped at him with expressions of shock and, especially on Mercedes's face, hurt. "I'm just so effing sick of this! You know why I kept my personal life to myself? It's because I can't tell you anything without you getting jealous! I don't even bother sharing what I'm working on anymore because I know you'll just act dejected and disheartened or whatever you want to call that woe-is-me act you put on, even though you have high-paying job with a great readership that you worked half as hard as I did for. So I think it's pretty safe to assume on my part that if I try to tell you anything about how amazing my boyfriend is, or how smoking hot he is, or how mind-blowing the sex is, you're just going to sulk about how Sam hasn't proposed yet! Really Mercedes? We all know he's only stalling because he lost his job and is waiting to get a steady salary again so he can get you a ring with an actual diamond in it. I'm sick of all of your complaining and your judging, Mercedes. Speaking of judging, how dare you judge my boyfriend for being in the closet? Like you even have any idea how terrifying and difficult that it is for someone? And I know what you're going to say—you're just looking out me. Fuck that. I'm sick of everyone being so damn concerned about me! I'm a grown man, for Chrissake, not that broken little bullied boy back in high school. I've grown a thick skin since then but you're all too stuck in the past to see it. So I'm done Mercedes."

Kurt began to storm away but stopped himself when he reached the door. "Oh and another thing. I'm breaking the 'bro code' here, but I don't really give a flying fuck anymore, so here it goes. The other reason Sam doesn't want to propose is because he thinks your smoking is disgusting and he isn't sure he can make a commitment to someone who's slowly killing themselves and will just stink up whatever home you two make together. Just a tip."

When Kurt returned to his desk, he could tell from the look on Blaine's face that he had been listening.

"Kurt," Blaine began.

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped, "and stop eavesdropping on me and my friends."

0-0-0

The remainder of the week passed by in a flurry of tension and awkwardness between Kurt and his friends. He obviously wasn't attending their Smoking and Gossip Sessions on the roof, but Tina still managed to stop by his desk when she could (Kurt really hated forcing her into the middle of the feud), and whenever he and Mercedes interacted, the extent of their communication was an icy stare. Blaine, on the other hand, had been the perfect escape from all the drama. He had respected Kurt's wishes and refrained from bringing up the blow up, instead sending him goofy Skype messages all day long or consulting with him about the menu for Friday.

Therefore, Kurt was eternally grateful when Friday evening finally arrived. He still wasn't exactly sure where they stood, but Blaine loved him (he still got butterflies every time he thought about it) and since that was better than the state of his relationship with his two best friends, he'd take it.

"Hello, gorgeous," Blaine greeted Kurt, a bit out of breath as he answered the door.

"Hi," he replied, blushing slightly. "I brought wine."

"Fantastic," Blaine grinned and moved to lean in but stopped himself. "Can I kiss you?"

"Blaine, you don't have to ask," he chuckled.

"I just want to make sure," Blaine told him. "I'm not sure how forgiven I am."

"Well, you're forgiven enough to kiss me without asking permission," Kurt informed him, capturing Blaine's lips for a kiss. What was meant to be a sweet kiss hello quickly escalated into a needy round of frenching since the two men had gone without any physical contact for almost week. The sounds of childish voices and giggles caused Kurt to break their liplock though. "You're also forgiven enough to invite me in so we don't give the kids that live down the hall an eyeful."

"Hm, good idea," he murmured, taking Kurt's hand and leading him inside. Once they entered the apartment and the bottle of wine was put down, Blaine pulled Kurt in for another ardent kiss. "I don't know if you could tell, but I really missed you this week."

"I missed you too," Kurt admitted. I'd love for us to show each other just how much we've missed each other, but I'm supposed to not be letting you off the hook. Curse you and that talented mouth of yours, Blaine. "But thank you for giving me my space this week."

"Of course, you know I'd do anything for you" he told him sincerely, tracing circles in the back of Kurt's hand. "I love you. I'm just so sorry."

Kurt cupped his face and pressed his lips to Blaine's gently as a sign of reassurance and reconciliation. "I know." He looked past Blaine's head and frowned. "Why isn't the table set? Did you just get in or something?"

"No," Blaine replied with an impish smirk. "We're not eating here."

"Blaine! I thought you said you were going to make me dinner! If you made reservations at another French restaurant I swear to all that is Prada—"

"Hey, baby, calm down. I only meant that we're having a picnic and I already brought the food over to where I'm taking you," Blaine explained.

"Oh," Kurt responded, feeling silly. "And where are you taking me?"

"There's this nice park across the river that has a great view of the skyline," Blaine said. "But I know you're not the most outdoorsy person, so if you do want to eat here then give me a minute to fetch the food."

"That's okay," Kurt assured him. "I'm alright with the park."

"Good," Blaine smiled. "Shall we, then?"

Blaine shifted into a blur for a moment, stripping his street clothes so he was left in his Superman costume. "We're not just going downtown, so I kind of need to wear this just in case a helicopter catches us or something. I take it you don't have any objections."

Stupid, cocky, sexy bastard. "Only that the color scheme is atrocious," Kurt intoned, attempting to keep himself from falling under the spell of Blaine's tightly wrapped body.

Blaine chuckled as he swept him into his arms. "Just as long as you don't have any complaints about the fit."

Kurt had to bite down hard on his lip to prevent the subsequent moan from escaping his mouth. You can't let him off the hook so easily…you're supposed to be taking this slow…he almost killed a man…my goodness, spandex was the best thing ever invented…

They were cruising above Riverside Drive now, Kurt clung closer to Blaine instinctively at the realization that they were now airborne. Blaine laughed lowly in his throat and pecked Kurt on the cheek quickly before he refocused on flying again. They spent the rest of the twenty minute flight in comfortable silence as Kurt reveled in taking in the city below him, or gazing with disbelief still at the reflection of himself and Blaine as they sped across the Hudson River. They landed in a secluded section of a charming park in what Kurt assumed was Hoboken.

Kurt looked back at the city across from them. "Wow, you weren't kidding," he gasped at the magnificent view of all the glittering lights of the Metropolis skyline.

Blaine simply grinned in reply but then suddenly swore under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Kurt inquired.

"We forgot your wine," Blaine said in a disappointed tone.

"Don't worry about it. We'll drink it some other time," Kurt insisted, glancing at the horizon momentarily and then back at Blaine, who was now in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. "Oh, boo, you're wearing normal clothes again."

"Sorry, babe, but it's a necessary precaution in case someone sees us," Blaine apologized as he reached into a nearby bush, extracting a large reusable shopping bag.

Kurt helped him set up the blanket and remove all the various covered dishes.

"I hope you like Italian," Blaine remarked as he began to take off the tin foil covering the plates. "I didn't think I was ready to try French cuisine, and I know pasta is full of carbs and calories and all that…"

"Blaine, Italian is fine. Not fine, great," promised Kurt. Besides, I can think of a way for us to burn off those calories after dinner…

Blaine exhaled in relief. "Good. Now question, if I tried to feed you would you think it was romantic or patronizing?"

Kurt ended up letting Blaine feed him, but thought it was only fair if he could do the same to Blaine. They caught up with each other as they ate, laughing and chatting, Kurt silently wishing Blaine wasn't so damn forgivable.

"So," Blaine began as he poked at his tiramisu. "I know you said you didn't want to talk about it, but we really do have to discuss what happened between you and Mercedes."

Kurt gave him a look that translated to are you really going to make me do this? "What if I started moaning as I ate the way you like so much?"

"Kurt," he pressed. "I'm serious. You two are still giving each other the silent treatment. I hate seeing you and your best friend like this, especially when it's my fault."

"Okay, hold on cowboy, this is just as much as my fault as it is yours. You didn't force me to go out with you, and we both agreed to keep our relationship under wraps."

"Well, now things are different."

"That may be true, but I feel like we have to keep things the same," Kurt contested. "Blaine, there was a moment where I almost told them. But I realized that even I came clean, I'd just have to lie even more about why I lied in the first place, and then they'd probably get even angrier at me. Trust me, Mercedes and I will work things out eventually, and honestly, it kind of felt good to get that all off my chest."

"I understand, Kurt, but they're going to have to meet 'Blake' sometime." Blaine pointed out. "I mean, they're still not convinced I'm not violent, and they'll probably keep giving you a hard time until they can meet him themselves."

"What if we hired someone to pose as my boyfriend?" Kurt half-joked. "Like Tom Welling?"

"Yeah, he's straight and married, so keep dreaming, Hummel," Blaine retorted, nudging his boyfriend playfully.

"What about Hayden Christensen then? He never has any chemistry with the girls in his movies, so logically, we can assume that it's because he's into dudes," Kurt stated.

"Ugh, no, it's because he's a terrible actor," Blaine disagreed. "He ruined Star Wars for me, which is a big deal because no one can relate to Luke Skywalker like I can."

"Well, you're right, my fake boyfriend should be someone you approve of. Any actors from the Harry Potter franchise gay?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I would answer that, but then I'd just be indulging you in avoiding this and we do actually need to work this out."

"Just give me another week," he bargained. "If Mercedes and I haven't worked it out by then, we'll reevaluate and take it from there. Does that sound fair, Mr. Anderson?"

"Perfectly reasonable, Mr. Hummel," Blaine replied with an affected accent, even offering his hand.

Kurt giggled and shook his hand firmly and then leaned in to seal it with a quick kiss. But before they knew it, Blaine was on top of Kurt, their hips rutting together desperately.

"Fuck," Blaine gasped, rolling off of Kurt. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Kurt growled as he threw a leg over Blaine to mount him. "I was enjoying that too, you know."

"But…but…" Blaine found it increasingly difficult to focus on creating words with Kurt grinding down on him. "I thought we were going to take this slow?"

"Yeah, but this is more fun," Kurt said, obliterating Blaine's resolve with every move of his hips. "And if I didn't feel comfortable with this, I would have told you and you would have stopped.

"Kurt we could get caught," Blaine told him, failing to resist the urge to keep thrusting up, "and then arrested for public indecency."

"But that's what you're enhanced hearing and vision are for," Kurt pointed out.

"Yeah, but…damn it Kurt….those things only work when I focus…and ah, I'm having trouble concentrating right now…"

"But you never did return that 'favor' you promised me last week …" he pouted, sliding his hands up Blaine's chest and twisting his nipples. Blaine yelped and Kurt knew he'd surrendered.

"Mmm, that was very rude of me," Blaine rumbled, pinning Kurt down in a split second. "Now, where was I?"

Kurt had been reduced to a wanton moan as Blaine rubbed him through his skin-tight jeans a few times before popping open the button and dragging down the zip.

"You look so sexy in these, but they're kind of a pain to get off," Blaine commented good-naturedly as he had to exert some force to tug the pants down to the middle of Kurt's thighs. He wasted no time mouthing Kurt's erection through his briefs.

"Blaine," Kurt panted. "Oh, Blaine…don't tease me…please Blaine…I need it…"

Blaine simply chuckled darkly and slid his underwear down to reveal Kurt's aching cock. He wetted his lips in anticipation before licking a stripe up the underside, then another one to the side of his cock, and then the other.

"Blaaaaaaaaaaaine," Kurt begged, his tone shamelessly wrecked.

Blaine wrapped his lips around the head and sucked for a moment or two before he swallowed Kurt's dick in one gulp. Kurt responded with an ecstatic cry, his hips bobbing up and his fingers twining themselves into Blaine's gelled locks. Blaine took it in stride though, glimpsing up at Kurt and silently giving him permission to fuck his mouth. Kurt tried to keep his moans to a minimum as he watched his cock disappear between Blaine's perfect, plump, pink lips. It was, without a doubt, the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He couldn't but tug mercilessly on Blaine's hair as he continued to plunge his dick in and out of the superhero's mouth. But if how Blaine was beginning to groan around his cock was any indication, Blaine didn't mind the yanking on his hair either.

"Oh…Blaine…mmmmsoclose…Blaine…" Kurt whimpered, shivering in pleasure every time Blaine sucked as his cock slipped from the wet, hot, divine cavern of his mouth.

Blaine trailed his finger across Kurt's perineum back to his entrance and gently pushed at the puckered hole, causing Kurt to immediately spasm and tense, his back arching, his cum shooting into his lover's throat. Blaine gulped it down eagerly.

"You didn't tell me that blowjobs were one of your superpowers," Kurt sighed a few moments later after he'd recovered.

Blaine chuckled as he tucked Kurt back into his pants. "You didn't tell me that you taste delicious."

Kurt blushed. "I, um, thanks."

"We should get going," Blaine said, slithering up Kurt's body to lie next to him.

"But what about you?"

"Tonight was about you," he insisted. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Kurt questioned, standing up, watching as Blaine packed up everything in a matter of moments at super-speed.

"I'm sure," Blaine winked. "Let's get you home."

"But tonight wasn't just about me, I wanted it to be about us," Kurt argued, wrapping his arms around Blaine's middle as whispered into his ear, "What's your stance on the number sixty-nine?"

He heard Blaine groan and his knees weaken slightly at the suggestion. "What are we waiting for then?"