Kurt was going to miss his flight. He knew he was going to miss his flight, but Blaine had him pinned to the wall of a little alcove a hundred yards from their gate, devouring his mouth so ravenously as if he needed Kurt’s lips on his to live, his arms wrapped around him so tightly he could put a boa constrictor to shame, and his hips canting forward, slowly coaxing Kurt into becoming just as aroused as he could feel Blaine was.

“Come on,” the Greek panted into his ear, his voice low, rough, and alluring. “Let’s go get each other off in the bathroom.”

“Blaine,” Kurt sighed with fond exasperation. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“So?” the god countered. “You can take Jeff’s dad’s jet home next week with me.”

“Except that I need to get ready for senior year,” he pointed out. He pried himself away from Blaine so they could actually look at each other and inhale fresh oxygen. “And besides, do you really want our last time together in Greece to be in an unsanitary airport bathroom?”

“Baby, I’ll take sex with you wherever I can get it,” Blaine growled into his ear, crowding himself into Kurt’s space again. “You’re that good.”

“And as flattering as that is,” he began, gently reestablishing some distance between them once more, “I am not giving you a handjob in the handicapped stall.”

“Why not?” Blaine pouted in an astoundingly childish manner for a man who was older than modern civilization. “I would have given you one too.”

“What’s wrong, Blaine?” Kurt probed, sensing that his boyfriend’s advances stemmed from a deeper issue.

“Nothing,” he answered immediately. “I’m horny, like usual.”

The mortal didn’t buy it. “Does this have anything to do with last night?”

It began right after the pair had finished making love for the second time that evening, their celebration of Aphrodite’s unbelievable news. The coupling had been rushed and a little sloppy, but both men had collapsed on the bed, panting and gazing at each other with stupidly wide grins. 

Kurt was about to speak when Blaine’s pants had begun to sound and buzz. The god’s brow furrowed and he lifted his head up slightly to identify the noise. He acknowledged it with a shrug of his shoulders and proceeded to mouth at Kurt’s shoulder.

“Don’t you want to get that?” the teen asked.

“Nah, let it go to voicemail. I have more important things to concern myself with,” he mumbled into Kurt’s skin.

“But we just…” the mortal trailed off. Blaine’s phone had stopped ringing and beeped once, signaling that the call was sent to voicemail.

“That doesn’t mean we can make out until we’re hard again,” he debated.

Kurt capitulated and sought his lover’s lips once more. The god’s phone rang again, however, and as wonderful as kissing Blaine was, the trademark iPhone ringtone was sort of a mood killer. He did his best to ignore it though, the device beeping once more. Whoever was trying to reach Blaine was insistent, though, and his phone began to ring for a third time.

“Fuck off,” Blaine growled to unknown caller, his lips brushing against Kurt’s as he spoke.

Suddenly the ground shook threateningly. The mortal yelped and clung to his divine beau in reaction, but Blaine on the other hand, was not alarmed. He labored a sigh and rolled his eyes, snapping “Fine!” before he scooted out of the bed to retrieve his phone, which had begun to ring once more. Blaine answered with a harsh “What?”

 Kurt listened fixedly as the god argued rapidly in his native language with the person on the other line. The American was by no means fluent in ancient Greek, but judging by the grimace on Blaine’s face and his half-formed attempts at speech, he was losing the quarrel—whatever it was about, whoever it was with.

A minute or so later, Blaine slammed his phone down.

“We have to get dressed,” he grumbled, angrily rising from the bed and snatching his pants.

“We do?” Kurt queried meekly. He gazed at Blaine in bewilderment, mystified that someone could pull on a pair of pants with quite so much force. 

“Yes, we do,” he replied through gritted teeth as he zipped his fly. “Because if we don’t, my bastard father will unleash his seismic rage on Athens. And everyone says that I’m overdramatic.”

“Oh,” he said quietly and rolled out of bed as well. The last thing Kurt wanted was to cause Dionysus to create an earthquake on their behalf. The mortal stared at the clothing covering most of the surfaces in his room, completely and utterly lost. Still stark naked, he looked at a redressed Blaine helplessly and asked, “What does one wear when they’re going to have dinner with an Olympian god?”

“Come on, Kurt, don’t stress,” Blaine assuaged him. “You’ve met my parents before.”

“But those were always surprise visits!” Kurt pointed out. “I mean, what if I’m not dressed formally enough or too formal or I wear something unintentionally offensive?”

“You’ll look stunning in whatever you wear,” the god told him sweetly, only to add, “although I think you’re at most stunning in nothing at all—“ but Kurt’s pointed, threatening glare of ‘not now’ caused Blaine to amend himself. “Stick to semi-formal, okay?”

“Thank you,” Kurt said briskly and nudged the immortal out of his path so he could assemble an ensemble worthy of an Olympian.

0-0-0

“Don’t be nervous,” Blaine whispered into Kurt’s ear as a black stretch limo came to a stop at the curb of the G.L.E.E. building. The teen exhaled shakily, obviously not encouraged by the god’s words. “They’re going to love you, in fact, they already do.”

Blaine’s words caused Kurt to turn his head to regard Blaine confusedly. “How could they—“

“Blaine, Kurt!” Dionysus’s booming greeting prevented Kurt from finishing his question.

The Olympian strode up to the pair genially, taking the mortal’s hand into a firm shake and telling him sincerely, “Welcome to the family.”

“Th-thank you,” Kurt stuttered in reply. He cast a searching glance at Blaine, who returned the look with a small but sincere smile of reassurance.

The elder god turned to his son. “Blaine,” he addressed him neutrally.

“Father,” he replied, his tone equally as distant.

Kurt could sense the unresolved tension between the two, yet he wasn’t left to cower for too long, because a moment later he heard his name once again.

A woman had emerged from the limo. She was slim but statuesque, and everything about her radiated warmth. Her skin had soft golden undertones, her eyes were a kindly hazel, and her hair was a tawny, honey hue (Kurt made a mental note to ask her who did her color because it was, no pun intended, divine). Even her clothing, a stunning coral paneled sheath dress with embellished sleeves, had a certain soothing, pleasing quality to it.

“So wonderful to finally meet you,” she spoke amiably, foregoing a handshake and pulling him into an embrace. “I’m Ariadne, Blaine’s step-mother.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” the teen insisted. “Blaine has sung your praises many a time.”

“Likewise,” the goddess replied with a conspiratorial grin.

“I’m right here you know,” Blaine muttered bashfully.

“Come here, agoraki mou,” she ordered him, the fondness in her voice unmistakable, hugging the god and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Kurt couldn’t help but gape a little as he watched his boyfriend interact with his stepmother. Blaine was always so brusque with his family, and it staggered the teen to see him so vulnerable, so sweet with Ariadne. He was shaken from his reverie by the clap of Dionysus’s hands and his proposal of “Shall we?”

The ride to the restaurant began awkwardly to say the least. Kurt sat next to Blaine, the Olympian and his wife seated across from them. The mortal sat stiffly with his hands folded primly in his lap despite the god’s hand resting on his knee, Blaine’s attempt at a comforting, grounding gesture.

“Now, there is one matter I wanted to discuss with you immediately, Kurt,” Dionysus said as the limo pulled away from the curb.

“Yes?” he prompted timidly, unable to prevent his mind from supplying all sorts of horrific things that the Olympian might want to address him with.

“I have spoken with Athena, Olympian patroness of Wisdom and virgin goddess, about your friends that Blaine compelled earlier in the summer. She has agreed to grant each of them a year of good fortune in recompense for their night with the demigods.”

Kurt was shocked. The whole Glee girls-Nick and Jeff issue had been bothering him, but in all honesty, the teen had pretty much resigned himself to the fact that some sort of amends would never be reached. Of course it could never truly be fixed, but Kurt thanked the god wholeheartedly nonetheless for his kindness. “Thank you so much…it means a lot to me and them, I’m sure, you know even though they don’t really remember. I just—thank you.”

“You are very welcome,” Dionysus replied warmly and Kurt glanced at Blaine once more. The younger god was wearing an remorseful expression, his features betraying his concern regarding the subject.

“Thank you,” Kurt repeated toward him, yet quieter this time.

“Of course,” Blaine assured him softly in return. “I hope you believe me now that I will truly never abuse my powers like that again.”

“I do,” Kurt answered with a small chuckle, trying to keep the tears in. Losing it in front of Blaine’s super-powerful-godly parents, especially before they even made it to the restaurant, would be more humiliating than the mortal could bear.

He paused for a second, resisting the urge to kiss Blaine, unsure of as to what his lover’s PDA policies in front of his family were, and the limo lapsed into an strained friendly silence once again.

Ariadne intervened with some small talk. “I think you’ll really like the restaurant we picked, Kurt. It’s French.”

“Oh thank you,” the mortal replied meekly. “But you didn’t have to do that just for me.”

“We wanted to,” Dionysus averred. “Now that you’re family, we want to make this transition period while you’re still mortal as smooth as possible as you become acquainted with our world.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said once again, unsure of how else to reply.

“Just relax, dear,” Ariadne urged him. “Tonight we’re just Blaine’s parents.”

“Okay,” he responded, nodding his head slowly. He wasn’t completely convinced about the whole ‘just Blaine’s parents thing’ though, as much as he wanted to believe it. “I…um, what should I call you? I mean, how should I address you two…do you have titles?”

“We do,” Dionysus confirmed, “but let’s just stick with Don and Ariadne for tonight. We need to keep a low profile anyway.”

“Alright,” the teen replied with a sliver more confidence.

He felt a Blaine give a reassuring squeeze to his knee, and turned his head slightly to look at him. Blaine was gazing at him with eyes full of adoration, and more prominently, pride in his lover’s developing relationship between him and his family. They were truly building a life together now.

“So Ariadne,” Kurt began courageously. “I love your dress. Who are you wearing?”

From there things were much easier between the mortal and the deities. Kurt and Ariadne quickly engrossed themselves in an in-depth discussion about fashion and this fall’s upcoming trends in English while Blaine and Dionysus talked logistics regarding his transformation in Greek. Even though Kurt was fairly sure he could speak with Ariadne for hours on end, he couldn’t help but become periodically distracted by the foreign conversation taking place next to him. Both men were speaking in low, heated voices, the intensity of their conversation escalating over time if the tension in Blaine’s jaw was any indication.

He and Ariadne’s discussion about Karl Lagerfeld was interrupted when Blaine rose from the table , his fingers curled under the ledge of the table, poised to overturn it.

“Blaine!” Ariadne shrieked indignantly.

The god froze, as if he had forgotten she was there, and his expression quickly shifted from uninhibited anger to that of a child getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Sorry, Stepmother,” he muttered and his took seat once more.

The goddess turned to her husband, “What’s going on?”

Dionysus sighed exasperatedly. “He wants to go to high school with the b—Kurt.”

“Wait, what?” Kurt couldn’t help the widening of his eyes at the Olympian’s words. Blaine at McKinley? He found it hard to reconcile to two incongruous images, intelligent and sophisticated Blaine attending prosaic, ignorant McKinley. He’d stick out like a sore thumb.

Blaine huffed. “I want to be there to support him this year, what with college applications and his advanced placement courses…”

Dionysus sent his glare his way that sent chills down Kurt’s spine in anticipation of any possible anger-induced seismic activity.

“…and,” the Greek continued hesitatingly, “I want to be able to keep an eye on the guys who’ve been harassing him.”

“First of all, you would be bored out of your mind in a mortal high school setting,” Dionysus argued as soon as his son had finished speaking. “Remind me again Blaine, how many Masters’ degrees do you hold?”

“Four,” he admitted reluctantly, refusing to make eye contact with the elder god.

Kurt’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Sure, Blaine had mentioned that he’d attended this and that university to combat the boredom of being alive since the days of Aristotle, and that colleges boasted an ample, never ending supply of young and eager mortals to sleep with, but the god had never told Kurt just how much education he had received over the years.

Dionysus wasn’t finished. “And how many Doctorates?”

“Two,” he replied begrudgingly.

Kurt swore his jaw dropped to the table in cartoon-character fashion. Blaine must have noticed his lover’s not-so-subtle freak-out and turned to him to insist, “Well, the second one’s in Philosophy, so it doesn’t really count.”

The mortal responded with a choked off sound of disbelief. He knew Blaine was worldly and intellectual, but he never expected to him to be more of a savant than three Harvard professors combined.

Dionysus grinned contentedly, knowing his point had made, but pressed on with his dispute nonetheless. “Beyond that, you cannot continue to smother your partner, don’t you see? It almost cost you your relationship and as much as I love having you sulk around my home and pilfering my fine wine collection Blaine, following Kurt around in the hallway carrying his books like some strange housewife-bodyguard hybrid isn’t a part of a healthy partnership.”

Kurt was surprised, dare he say mildly impressed, by the Olympian’s reply. Blaine, however, seemed to be glowering at the table with such torridness that the teen now feared his soup was in danger of going flying in place of an impending earthquake.

“Don,” Ariadne chided, glancing between the two a tad apprehensively.

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” Blaine asked through gritted teeth and a face red with barely contained rage. “Stay at home ironing his clothes and cooking his dinner?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Ariadne proposed.

Suddenly, the bickering ceased and three pairs of eyes fell onto Kurt. Normally, he relished the spotlight, but in this case, the mortal was overwhelmed by the attention.

“I…” he began hesitantly. He knew anything he said would upset one of the gods next to him, and he didn’t know which was worse, angering an Olympian god or his boyfriend.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” Ariadne apologized as soon as she realized Kurt’s plight.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “It’s just…not that having you at McKinley would make my senior year magical,” Kurt assured Blaine, yet went on to say “but maybe Di—um, your father has a point and we need a little space. We’ll still have weekends and afternoons, and everyone thinks you’re in college anyway…”

Blaine looked at him with an unreadable expression, and simply replied “Alright” in an infuriatingly neutral tone. Just then the appetizer arrived, and the temporarily switching the conversation back to lighter topics and entirely in English.

Three more dishes, two shouting matches, and one more near table-flip later, it was decided: Blaine would attend Ohio State, living in Columbus, while Kurt finished high school and they would move to New York together once he graduated. Dionysus and Ariadne had also concluded that they should accompany Blaine to the States the following week to meet Burt in order to keep up pretenses that their son was merely an incredibly privileged and affluent college student, rather than a recently-turned-mortal-Greek-god.  

Blaine’s driver, Demetri, was waiting for them as they exited the restaurant. They couple fondly bid farewell to Dionysus and Ariadne (who had their respective chauffeur waiting for them).

Silence dominated the cab as they rode back to Kurt’s dorm. After nearly ten minutes, Kurt couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you mad at me because I said I didn’t want you with me at McKinley?”

Blaine looked up at him, hesitant for a moment before, sighing and responding, “I know I shouldn’t be,” he inhaled deeply, “I’m not. Are you mad at me because I never told you how many degrees I have?”

“Not particularly,” Kurt told him. “Honestly, I’m a little more irked by all the sex with strangers that the degrees imply.”

“Fair enough,” the deity chuckled and slung an arm around his consort’s shoulder. “I know I can never say this enough but everyone one I’ve been with before you, they mean nothing. You’re the one I want to spend eternity with Kurt, you’re the one who I’m sacrificing my immortality, albeit temporarily, for. And honestly, that doesn’t even feel like a sacrifice because I’m gaining so much more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

Kurt didn’t say anything, he couldn’t say anything. How could he reply to something as beautiful as that? Therefore he simply pressed his lips to Blaine’s, their mouth sliding against each other’s with a familiar ease. They both felt the car slow to a stop.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me,” Blaine husked, his tanned hand cradling the American’s jaw and sliding his thumb across his bottom lip temptingly.

“I have to pack,” he groaned, remembering that he still had an entire summer wardrobe that needed to be fit into a measly three suitcases.

“Babe, didn’t I tell you? My dad sent the maenads to take care of all that,” he informed him.

Kurt tried to recall Dionysus mentioning something about servants doing his packing for him, but there was so much to process from the night that the mortal had trouble keeping it all straight. First, there was the news that of the agreement with Athena, plus all the arrangements regarding incorporating Blaine into his life in Ohio, not to mention that they had begun to make plans for the future, and they hadn’t just discussed New York and college, but Olympus too. At the moment, the teen’s head was swimming with newly acquired information and giddy thoughts of the years to come.

“I guess I don’t remember if you did,” he replied at last. Suddenly his expression turned coquettish, “So if I don’t have to pack, I wonder what we should do to keep ourselves occupied until the morning?”

Blaine simply answered with a sly grin and swept Kurt into his arms and out of the car. The gesture reminded the mortal of their first night together, and when they made love that night (all night, as he was rather embarrassed to admit) it didn’t feel that different from their first time either. Sure things had changed, they’d evolved both in their relationship and as people themselves, but the love, the passion, the vulnerability, the trust, was still there, and always would be.

“No, it’s not about last night…”Blaine dropped his gaze and cleared his throat awkwardly. “I…I just don’t want you to go.”

Kurt was quick to allay, “Honey, it’s only a week—“

“But it’s not!” the god objected. “It’s not…what if you do like me as much as a mortal?”

“Oh my gosh, why would you think that?” Kurt asked, appalled. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t know,” Blaine huffed defensively. “I’m losing my powers and…what if I can’t satisfy you like I’ve been able to?”

“Blaine,” Kurt began solemnly. “How many times have I told you that you’ve made all my wildest dreams come true?”

“A lot,” he conceded after a moment of reluctance. “But—“

“Not buts!  Blaine you turning mortal for me and coming back to Ohio is one of those wild dreams I never thought would come true, and that satisfies me much more than anything you can do in the bedroom,” Kurt averred, his sincerity undeniable in his voice and in his gaze.

The deity didn’t speak for a moment, his eyes searching Kurt’s before he surrendered, “Okay.”

“Good,” Kurt said with a smile and a gentle kiss to Blaine’s lips.

“Even though what you just said was really sweet, I would like to add that I haven’t even begun to show you all that I can do in the bedroom,” the immortal added cheekily.

He rolled his eyes and questioned playfully, “Remind me again why I’m spending eternity with you?”

“Because I have a big dick and know how to use it?”

“Blaine!” Kurt gasped scandalized, smacking his boyfriend on the arm and glancing around worriedly to see if anyone had heard them.

“What? You asked, I answered!”  Blaine cried in his defense, laughing a jovial, contagious guffaw that Kurt couldn’t resist in joining. He allowed the immortal to pull him in close and whisper, “Have a safe flight, okay?”

“Thank you,” he replied tenderly. “And thank you for bumping us all up to first class.”

Blaine shrugged. “It was the least I could do.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They kissed once more, both reluctant to separate from the other, because they knew once they did, they would have to part. Eventually the need to breathe won out, but the pair still stayed close.

“So I guess I’ll—“

Blaine was stopped when a long, slender, perfectly manicured finger pressed against his lips.

“Don’t,” Kurt urged seriously. “Don’t you remember what I said last night? I’m never saying goodbye to you.”

The god smiled and pulled his love into his arms, sharing one last, tight, but oh-so-perfect embrace before Kurt began to walk away and join the rest of the New Directions, all waiting by the gate entrance to board the plane.

He watched Kurt disappear down the jetway, and after that even watched the plane taxi and take off, not removing his eyes from the aircraft until it was a miniscule speck in the sky.

Gradually he forced himself to leave, he knew Demetri was circling the airport waiting for him, and as he left, he noticed the song playing over the terminal’s PA system. It was a song by Katy Perry, an artist he quite liked to be honest, and he couldn’t help but grin as he listened to the lyrics.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”