Chapter 12

Blaine sifted through page after page, flicking through idly as the words blurred together. The magazine seemed repetitive and boring, the same images flying past, the same colours making up the majority of its glossy pages. He forced himself to concentrate on the words of a Rhianna interview he couldn't even pretend to be interested in. He threw it aside just as he fell back against his mattress and pillows, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes until his vision exploded in stars.

Ready to roll off his bed and drown his thoughts in a shower— an hour long shower on the highest heat. Preferably a screaming-along-with-Broadway-soundtrack-of-choice shower— his phone buzzed in his pocket, the tune only pulling him slightly out of his catatonic state.

"Hello," he said.

"Hey you." Blaine's lips twitched at the breathy tone in Kurt's voice.

"You sound happy," he commented, opening his eyes as Kurt's laugh travelled down the phone.

"I am," he agreed. "I'm excited to get out the house, actually. Mercedes and Rachel are coming to get me in a minute." Something clicked in Blaine's head, with which he fully rolled himself off his bed to land with a thump on his carpet.

"Oh right. You're going shopping with them today." He pressed the phone to his ear as he scrambled up off the floor, padding out and across the landing to his parents' room. He peered inside and found no sign of them but a pile of neatly folded ironing, and so made his way to the closet.

"Yeah," Kurt answered as Blaine sifted through the towels to find his. "Rachel and Mercedes were nice enough to invite me."

"You're going shopping with Rachel?" Blaine laughed. "I thought you had strict rules about that."

"Mercedes will be there too," Kurt reminded him. "And Santana says I can trust her more than Rachel when it comes to clothes. So I'm sticking to her like glue when it comes to potential prom outfits." Blaine stiffened slightly, mouth dry, blankly staring into the closet.

"And Santana's going with Britt to shop for dresses, and I wanted to give them space, you know?" Kurt continued at Blaine's silence.

"Are they going together?" Blaine asked, pressing the phone between shoulder and cheek as he tugged his towel out from the bottom of the pile.

"I'm hoping so." Kurt sighed. "But I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't. Santana's not exactly... out."

"They could go under the guise of friends," Blaine mumbled into his phone, shutting the closet door just as a flitting question ran through him. Exactly under what pretence was he going to prom? That he was just friends with Kurt and they were going as friends? Which they were.

But how many other people would see it as that?

"Or maybe not," he finished, stumbling out his parents' room and shutting the door quietly behind him. "Maybe it's not the best idea."

Kurt hummed down the phone softly, a little too quietly, and Blaine stilled on the landing at the response. The little quirk in his tone off-putting.

"What?" Blaine asked.

"You don't think they should go together?" Kurt said, voice soft but a sharpness underlying his words.

"No," Blaine began to explain, nudging the bathroom door open with his shoulder. "I'm saying if they go as a couple, they should go as a couple. Not have to pretend they're just friends."

Kurt stayed silent down the other end of the phone, barely breathing out a small sigh of understanding and Blaine's fingers tensed around his phone, throwing his towel over the hook on the back of the door and perching on the edge of the bath.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed softly. "They shouldn't have to lie about their feelings, right?" There was an edge in Kurt's voice, as though t twisting it into a question for Blaine.

It was a ridiculous notion, a fleeting worry made up in his mind, because the next moment Kurt's voice trilled lightly down the phone, breathily musical to Blaine's ear, questioning tone dissolved as though it never existed. And it mustn't have. Kurt was no mind reader. He wouldn't be able to magically sense how Blaine's eyes lingered a little longer over Kurt's face when they hid themselves up in the library, or in their alcove in the coffee shop, or in their bedrooms. And he may have felt the touches from Blaine on his hands and shoulders and arms lasting a little longer, but he couldn't know it was because Blaine wanted to be closer, always felt the need to inch that little bit further. And Kurt definitely couldn't know how Blaine's eyes flicked down the line of his nose, his gaze hovering over his lips, before checking himself and snapping them back up.

"You should come with us," Kurt carried on, a light change of subject. "I could use someone else who can control the being that is Rachel Berry on this adventure." Blaine chuckled, shaking his head as his stomach twisted.

"I have my prom outfit," he reminded Kurt.

"Yes, but you could still come and we could find a nice..." He trailed off a second before his words came back. "A nice bow tie you'd like to spruce your suit up a little. You're always wearing those things right?"

"My suit is fine," Blaine scoffed. "It's a lovely suit thanks. Nice and-"

"Boring?"

"Discreet." The words said at the same time, the stiff silence following as Blaine sat a little rigidly on the edge of the bath, wondering if Kurt's fingers were tensing just like his were.

"That's just another word for boring," Kurt drawled, laughing with some restraint. As though with a small check. Blaine's lips turned up with little force, fingers relaxing and breathing once again as simple as it should be. Without the pressure constricting his airways. He needed this. Plain and simple banter with Kurt. With his best friend. Without worrying about feelings being trodden on and offenses being made, and for even the things that worried them both for a simple moment to be made into something to laugh at.

"Okay, okay," Blaine laughed. "My suit looks boring." He paused, biting down on his bottom lip."But I was kind of focusing on other aspects of it, you know, because the only person's opinion I care about won't know what it looks like anyway."

"Hmm?" Kurt's voice was practically beaming down the phone at him. "I bet you think that's totally sweet and not at all cheesy."

"I'm adorable," Blaine insisted, cheeky quirk causing Kurt to burst into short giggles once more.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"I am. One day you'll admit it," Blaine said, just as Kurt shuffled down the line.

"Maybe I will," Kurt's voice sounded a little distant ,until finally looping back to Blaine. "And on that day I'll buy you a ton of ice cream as proof of your victory. But for now..." his voice trailed again. "For now the loudmouth brigade have come to take me away for fun times at the Mall. Sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm just about to get in the bath," Blaine lied.

"It's two in the afternoon!"

"I had a lazy day!"

"Sure," Kurt scoffed. "I'll talk to you later."

"You too," Blaine said softly, arm falling down by his side as he heard the tone to indicate Kurt had cut him off.

Later in the week Blaine had found himself walking down the winding school halls, quiet from the absent students who had left earlier in the day. The silence itself was eerie, the school unusually still. He edged through along the lines of lockers, leaving the majority of the glee club back in the choir room, their voices and laughter still following him as he turned outside the entrance of the school.

Kurt was sitting on top of a low wall, school bag propped to his side, cane folded on top of that. His feet would have reached the ground if he hadn't pulled himself back, so his legs swung loosely, soles of his shoes scuffling against the asphalt. He popped a grape into his mouth from the bag in his lap.

His jaw was still working as he chewed when Blaine made his way over, Kurt lifting his head up at the sound of his footsteps.

"Hey," Blaine greeted, and Kurt's lips twitched into a small smile. "Rather long bathroom break, isn't it?"

Kurt shrugged. "I needed some fresh air. Grape?" He held the bag out, taking another one as he did.

"I'm good, thanks," he said, folding his arms so they wrapped around his chest loosely, eyes over Kurt, watching him with the safe distance between them. "Enough fresh air for another to enjoy?"

Kurt swallowed before his face broke into a grin. "Afraid not," he answered, solemnly. "Only enough fresh air for one pensive teenager today." He threw Blaine another small smile, patting the space of wall next to him, pulling his hand away as he felt Blaine brush past to take up the spot. He sat against the edge and took a long breath in through his nose, eyes fluttering closed and head leaning back as he inhaled.

"Ah," he breathed out, "Exhaust fumes."

Kurt scoffed through his laughter, nudging him in the side softly.

"If you don't appreciate my fresh air, why did you come following me?" he asked, another grape popped into his mouth as he said it, again holding the bag out to Blaine. This time he took one.

"I didn't come out following you," Blaine argued, smiling as Kurt raised his eyebrows. His small frown formed around the fruit in his mouth making his face look younger, something so adorable in the way he was reacting to Blaine.

"Uh huh. What do you call this then?" he asked, indicating between the two of them with his finger.

"I call it 'wondering where my friend who went to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago has disappeared to,'" Blaine said, taking another grape, shuffling up to sit up, his own feet now dangling slightly above the ground.

"I call it stalking," Kurt retorted.

"Fine, you got me," Blaine sighed. "I didn't want you hogging all this fresh air to yourself. So I came out here to infiltrate your grand plan to steal the air from the world." He tilted his head back to take another breath, a quick look up to the sky before turning back to look at Kurt.

He beamed at Blaine, before seeming to catch himself, biting down the grin and turning his face away, but a laugh broke out, there with a shake of his head, but he was laughing. Blaine's breath left him a little shakily, eyes locked on Kurt, his own mouth curling upwards as Kurt carried on in his laughter. His shoulder brushed Kurt's and he felt him lean into the touch.

"You're so odd," Kurt chuckled, turning to smile and nudge Blaine off balance.

"I'm not the one seeking fresh air outside a school by a main road, yet I'm the odd one?"

He smiled as Kurt laughed, both their legs scuffling across the floor in tandem. Something so calm had settled between them, so that Blaine only needed to take a small breath to steady himself to ask Kurt the question on his mind.

"Unless you didn't come out here for fresh air?" He prodded lightly, watching as Kurt's mouth twisted for just a second, before his face was blank, just as expressionless as before. He rolled another grape between his fingers. "Kurt?"

"I just had to get some space," he sighed, hand falling to his lap. "It's just this week's lesson. Don't get me wrong, it's a good one. I guess. It's just difficult."

"Having trouble deciding what word to put on your shirt?" Blaine asked, only half-joking. Kurt tilted his head to the side to face him again and smiled after a beat.

"Having trouble working out what I'm meant to learn from it," Kurt answered, turning his head away again, the last grape still in between his fingers. "It's a good lesson," he carried on at Blaine's resulting silence. "I know. But we're supposed to embrace what is different about us and accept it, love it. The one thing others want us to change but we wouldn't."

Blaine nodded, pointlessly so, but he did so. Kurt swung his foot back to kick against the wall with his heel, expression remaining blank.

"But there's a difference between what we wouldn't change and what we can't change," he said, finally eating the grape and scrunching the bag up in his hand to stuff in his jacket pocket. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Blaine hesitated. "I think so," he answered, drawing the sentence out and Kurt heard the uncertainty. He clicked his tongue, a look about him as though he'd lost himself in thought and almost forgotten Blaine was there.

"There are things I wouldn't change, out of principle, out of pride. Even if fundamentally they are things I can't change, the main point would be I wouldn't change them anyway," he explained. "But there are things I can't change. And they aren't things I like about myself, or want to be. But they're part of me as much as the things I wouldn't change, maybe sometimes even more. What Mr. Schue said, about the things we dislike the most about ourselves being the thing that makes us special, it's just not a perspective I can jump on board with."

Blaine eyes flickered down the profile of Kurt's face, and he leaned across, an overwhelming urge to, without thinking or even realising, and kissed Kurt's temple, hair brushing his cheek and nose. He felt Kurt tense under the touch, and pulled away quickly. Heat burning in his cheeks, Kurt turned his head, his mouth slightly open in question but no sound left either of them.

Heat spread down his neck, having no idea why he'd just done that, confused at himself and squirming a little in his spot. Hopefully, Kurt would say something to break whatever awkward thing Blaine had just dropped them into. It had been instinct, like it was as easy as reaching across to hug him or hold his hand. A kiss to the forehead hadn't seemed like a big deal.

"That was..." Kurt started.

"Different," Blaine continued, heart thudding. Kurt laughed, giddily, smiling as though the surprise was nothing but a pleasant one. Blaine's eyes darted away and then back to Kurt's face, hoping the rise in colour in it wasn't completely his imagination.

Kurt coughed, sitting up a little and tugging slightly away.

"We should..." Kurt began, fiddling with his jacket.

"Get back?" Blaine finished, hiding any tone of disappointment with a smile in his voice.

"Or we could just leave early?" Kurt suggested. "Say I wasn't feeling well and go get a coffee instead?"

"And leave the lesson? But important life lessons, Kurt! How could we leave?" Blaine gasped in mock horror.

"Screw life lessons," he announced, jumping up onto his feet, feeling around to grab his bag and unfolding his cane. "I'm already an embodiment of perfection."

Blaine laughed, jumping up himself and threading his fingers in Kurt's and pressing his side into him, soft bump to his shoulders. "And I'm not bad, myself?"

"You're amazing," Kurt said, knocking him back.

Kurt didn't have to say any more. Blaine reached across to lean their shoulders together again. When Kurt turned to smile at him again, Blaine swallowed heavily and smiled back, wishing Kurt could see it, even for a second. Maybe this was what having a friend like Kurt was. To the point where they could but didn't have to talk about things, because they already knew. Kurt's smile didn't falter, but this time he kept his face turned towards Blaine as he spoke.

"What would you have on your shirt?" His voice was low, and Blaine frowned. "If we ignored the assignment. If it wasn't about what others don't like about us."

"You mean something I don't like about myself?"

"I mean something you can't change," Kurt explained. Blaine paused again, eyes drifting over the school entrance, pinning to a point above the door as he thought.

"Lonely," he settled on, Kurt's hand tightening for a split second in his. "I don't think that counts though."

"It counts," Kurt disagreed.

"I can't help it," Blaine tried to explain. "Sometimes I just get really lonely and for no reason to be honest."

He thought briefly of his distant parents, and other members of what family he had living away and barely keeping in contact. An empty house for sometimes nearly as long as three weeks while they worked. And then of his friends from his old school, where there were plenty and welcoming enough. And his friends from this school, where there weren't so many, but meant all the same. How it would all come back to the same thing when he'd go home to an vacant house and wonder where his parents were that night, or when they'd phone.

There'd been a point when the loneliness barely felt like loneliness any more; it was just what his life was. It didn't become easier to manage being alone, but it became easier to accept. Easier to get home and plug music in and forget he felt so out of depth, and so exhausted.

Blaine dragged his eyes away from the spot they'd been trained on, turning back up to Kurt's face, catching his tiny frown, forehead creased in worry.

"Not as much any more though," he finished, not taking his eyes away from Kurt.

"Are you sure?" Kurt checked. Blaine smiled fondly.

"Definitely not," he told him, swinging their hands between them. "Now, coffee?" Kurt's lips turned upwards, lines in his forehead disappearing, features soft.

"Coffee," Kurt agreed, and they began their way, Kurt with his cane held out in front, their arms locked and conversation light and easy. Blaine didn't ask Kurt what he would put on his shirt, and he didn't need to. He just wished there was a way he could have told Kurt he understood other than a soft squeeze to his arm as they walked to Blaine's car.

Later on in the night, stretched out on the floor as he scribbled something down for English, the bag in the corner of the room caught his eye. The bag full of information and booklets he'd found, the leaflets on programmes for Kurt he'd looked into. The ones he'd briefly brought up months ago, before Kurt had said it was too soon. That night, mind still on his earlier conversation with Kurt, he took the bag full of the leaflets downstairs and, with barely a trace of a second thought, tipped it into the trash.

The closer and closer the days closed into Prom, the more and more Blaine wished the earth around him would suffocate him and swallow him whole. His shoulders felt weak holding himself up and he found himself drifting off into thoughts so often he kept bumping into others down the halls, including a few unimpressed jocks.

And the more guilt churned through him at how excited Kurt seemed. He wouldn't have been lying if he said he was surprised. He didn't know what he had been banking on- Kurt being just as nervous as he was, or Kurt not wanting to go at all. He hadn't expected him to join in with the majority of the club as practice became less and less about upcoming Nationals and more about dresses and suits and ties and corsages and prom, prom, prom.

Yet the more he focused away from the upcoming dance, the more the small things managed to squeeze past his filter. Noticing little changes in the way Kurt held himself, or fit himself into the group. He could forget his own worries when he caught Kurt in the corner of his eye, smiling and laughing, chattering away like the world outside his excited bubble didn't exist. Where he didn't think there was anything strange or different about him.

Perhaps that was why Blaine pushed all his own anxiety down, until it was nothing but a tight, sickening knot at the pit of his stomach. Seeing Kurt like that, something settled in him. Not everything. There was still a pulse of worry thrumming lightly through him, but something had calmed.

Rachel surrounded them at their lockers one day with her grand plan- the plan Kurt had suggested to Blaine weeks before- about going to Prom in a group.

"There's you two, me, Mercedes and Sam," she rambled, Kurt nodding at her words but Blaine not sure if he was really paying attention. "I think that's it. And then I think we should meet up around six at somewhere for dinner-"

She trailed on about her plans for the night, Kurt nodding with the same blank expression and Blaine trying to keep up with the flurry of ideas coming out her mouth at once. She would have carried on a lot longer if Blaine hadn't reminded her they'd be late for class if she kept talking, forcing her to check herself and apologise as she ran off in the opposite direction to where Kurt and Blaine were heading.

"So Santana and Brittany aren't joining the group?" Blaine checked with Kurt as they steadily made their way down the now empty hall. He checked the people off in his head. An odd number, he counted again suppressing a sigh of somewhat relief.

"No, Brittany's going by herself," Kurt answered, voice low and face twisted into a small scowl.

"Well, who is Santana going with then?" Blaine trailed after Kurt as he swung the cane, hitting the wall with a smack before they turned.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Kurt sighed, face turned down to the floor.

"Try me," Blaine said, although warily.

"Karofsky." Kurt's voice was incredibly low now, the scowl almost intensified by having to say the name.

Blaine bit back a shout of surprise, checking over his shoulder to make sure the corridor was still empty and reaching out to grab Kurt's shoulder, bringing him to a faltering halt. He jerked away at Blaine's sudden touch.

"Sorry," he apologised quickly. "But... you have to explain to me." He was beyond caring about being late now. It was going on six, seven minutes at most.

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know. She told me yesterday. Reluctantly. I think she thought I'd tell her off."

"Did you not?" Blaine raised his eyebrows, surprised.

"No," Kurt replied, a little shortly. "I didn't want to have another argument with her just before Prom, but she got that I was unhappy with it."

"But why-"

"I wish I knew," Kurt cut in, and his voice was so empty, Blaine didn't know whether it was from disappointment or frustration at not understanding. Kurt shrugged his shoulders and turned slowly away to start walking to class, back turned to Blaine in an obvious sign of how the conversation was over.

It was a hiccough in Kurt's excitement, even if he continued to talk and laugh excitedly with the others, sometimes Blaine would glance over to him, his face an image of empty expression. Lost and thoughtful.

It was a few days before Prom as he was flicking through his folders at his locker when the door of it was snapped shut, blowing air against his face as it barely missed him. He glanced up in shock, Santana staring at him, face guarded.

"Morning?" Blaine greeted carefully. She scowled, and Blaine felt his feet shifting away from her.

"Listen," she started, head snapping back to glance over her shoulder. It was early, and the hall remained pretty empty but for the odd student filtering through rushing to finish a piece of homework in the library. "I talked to Kurt yesterday." Blaine raised his eyebrows, confused. Santana rolled her eyes. "About the whole Karofsky thing."

"Oh," Blaine replied, waiting as she shook her head.

"I told him I'm using him to get Prom Queen, and also to keep him in check, so you don't shit your panties again," she told him, and Blaine started. "Don't get so tetchy. The point is, I told him I was doing this for you, but I think you know I care about you very little."

"Gee, thanks."

And to his surprise, Santana laughed, before another quick glance over her shoulder. "That's a lie, actually," she admitted. "You're growing on me. Like a parasite I can't shake off, but still." She shrugged, a soft smile on her lips to indicate she was perhaps joking.

Blaine smiled back meekly. He still wasn't sure what to make of Santana.

"You're keeping him away from Kurt," Blaine stated, Santana smiling as he caught on.

"Keeping him away from his cronies, more like," she corrected him. "Kurt's never been to a school dance before. I want him to have a great night, which means keeping the dicks who think it'd be funny to trip him up all night away."

"You don't think they'd do that?" Blaine was only half shocked. A short memory of the look on Karofsky's face as he'd stared down at Kurt on their Night of Neglect, and he felt a chill creep along his skin. Santana blinked, brow creasing.

"I wouldn't put it past them," she sighed. "They think it's funny to knock into him in the corridors. Think of what they'd do when they have the excuse of a room full of a couple of hundred teenagers all crowded together."

Blaine frowned. "Yes but, people would do that? I just-" He cut himself off at the look on Santana's face. If she'd been rolling her eyes, or shaking her head, or looking at him like he was odd, he would of carried on because he would have expected. But the look on her face was soft, something almost akin to pity there. "What?"

"Nothing," she said with a shrug, leaning back against the lockers, another quick side glance to the end of the corridor. A few more students were beginning to trickle through, this time in pairs or groups. "Just your naivety is actually quite endearing." She tilted her head around and smiled again. "You think the fact Artie is in a wheelchair stops people like that slushying him? Or locking him in a port-a-potty? You think because Kurt is blind they won't steal his pencils in class when his helper isn't looking, or trip him up in an empty corridor?"

Blaine's silence was enough of an answer for her, his eyes cast down to the floor in thought. No, he thought, he wasn't that naive. When he looked back up, Santana was looking at him, with a small grimace.

"You're going with him, though, so I thought I'd tell you," she clarified, pushing herself off the lockers.

"In a group," Blaine corrected her quickly. "We aren't going together together." He may have seemed a bit too adamant, because she stared him down, without blinking, something funny flashing across her face.

"Right..." Her voice trailed, eyes still glued to Blaine. "Well you can still look after him. Though to be honest, he'll probably do a better job of looking after you. While I look after Karofsky."

"How are you getting Karofsky to go with you?" Blaine asked. Santana laughed.

"Blackmail." She grinned at him, another look back to the entrance where more students were filing in. This time Kurt was with them, the rest of the students leaving space around Kurt as he swung his cane lightly.

"With what?" Blaine wondered, but Santana only shook her head at him and laughed again.

"I have my ways," she said with a wink, and slipped past, into the crowds and on to another corridor, like she'd never even been there, and yet everything seemed further set in stone.

It was almost oddly unsurprising how when he wanted the school days to end, they would drag endlessly, the second hand always going that slight bit too slow, and yet on this week, of all weeks, when he wished the days would tick away slowly, Saturday arrived as if Monday had only just ended. Blaine clambered out of bed in the morning with Santana's words still pressed in his ears, even though he fought his best to ignore them. As far as he'd concerned himself, he was going to the Prom to enjoy a night with his friends, not to look after Kurt, who really didn't need- or want- looking after.

He leaned against the sink and stared at the whiteheads scattered over his nose, ones he could only see close up, and studied his face in the mirror, wanting to push those words away. What Santana meant by looking after, she had meant in the sense of watching for Kurt when he couldn't. Without smothering him, treating him like he was incapable of looking after himself. He splashed his face and looked up again, the curls in his bangs slightly damp and dripping.

He wanted to know what went through a freshman Santana's head, what had made her build a wall around herself and Kurt, keep him safe without blocking him from everything. When had it become less about following instructions from a cheerleading coach to the personal something it had now become?

Slightly before five, he opened the front door to find Mercedes hoisting her dress up above her ankles, bag clasped in one hand, pressed into the frills of her dress. She looked as stunning as ever, or more so, practically radiating in the doorway against the background of the evening sun.

"You look gorgeous, Mercedes," he told her, moving aside to let her in.

"You too," she laughed, looking up to his hair. "Even with only half your head gelled. Am I early?" She laughed again as he reached his hand up to his hair, blushing.

"Uh... no," he chuckled. "I'm running late." He laughed again nervously and blundered through the hallway to show her to the living room. "You can wait here if you like, while I go finish up." And before he could splutter out any more apologies Mercedes was shooing him away, laughing at his nerves.

He'd nearly finished when another knock came to the door, and grabbed his jacket with a speedy click shut of his bedroom door. He found Mercedes opening the front door to Sam, grinning in the doorway. Blaine didn't miss how Sam glanced sideways at Mercedes, one quick look and almost a flash of surprise through his eyes, thanking silently that there would be an odd number in the group. And there would be little chance of being alone with Kurt. At a Prom. With music and dancing and less than a breath of space between them. Less chance of less than appropriate glances and the churn of the unfamiliar air that sometimes settled between the two when they ran out of words.

Less chance of anyone thinking they were going together.

He greeted Sam warmly, a short compliment on his suit that he knew to be borrowed for his dad, but when Sam's grin faltered, he let his words trail away with an awkward smile.

Mercedes grabbed them both by the arms and looped hers through them as they made their way down the sidewalk, all ignoring the heat in their prom outfits as they laughed on their way to the restaurant. Even beneath the weak late spring sun, it was warm, Mercedes fanning herself with her clutch bag and unlinking her arm from Blaine's to brush hair off her face.

Not a mention was made of it, though. All thoughts on the lack of money, or the prom-on-a-budget were forgotten in the heat and the laughter, and everything was about Prom. Glancing at Sam briefly to see the small sign of relief there, Blaine found himself for the first time, not minding that was what the subject of conversation was heading and would remain at for the rest of the night.

When they arrived at Breadstix, the restaurant serving the cheapest meals they could find that wasn't a McDonalds,("Hell no, I am not having my Prom meal at Mc-hardly-edible," Mercedes had complained, as Kurt laughed beside her in the choir room the previous week.) they all collapsed at their table, exhausted already but still laughing.

"When will Rachel and Kurt get here?" Sam asked, waving the menu in front of him, leaning back in the booth at the relief of the cool air.

Mercedes glanced up at the clock. "Any time now," she said. Then hesitated. "And Jesse too."

"Who?" Blaine and Sam chimed, both their eyebrows rising.

Mercedes frowned. "Yeah I was meant to tell you both..." She sighed. "Rachel's bringing her ex-boyfriend."

Sam blinked, and Blaine held in a groan.

So much for odd numbers.

"I thought it was meant to be just us guys?" Sam frowned, a small twist of the lips, but visibly unhappy.

"You want to argue against Rachel, be my guest," Mercedes told him, earning a laugh from both him and Blaine, some tension melting before it had even really settled. Mercedes laughs quietened as she nudged him in the side lightly and he glanced up at her to see her nodding over in the direction of the door.

When he turned, the first he saw was a tall boy, standing with a cocky grin on his face, an easy air about him. The boy glanced back over his shoulder-after sending a waitress a slight smile- to the others following in after him. Blaine lifted up to glance over the booth and grinned widely as he saw Rachel with her arm tucked through Kurt's.

He was gripping onto Rachel's arm tightly, although it loosened as he stepped indoors. Rachel was glancing at him and back to her ex-boyfriend (Jesse, Mercedes had called him, Blaine reminded himself) but keeping her eyes on Kurt a second longer, whispering something to him. He nodded an answer, but didn't turn his head to her.

Rachel looked radiant, her hair up and out her face for a change, showing how beautiful she really looked when she smiled as she was the moment she spotted Mercedes waving them over. Jesse, Blaine had to admit, looked very handsome in his suit, his grin nothing short of smug the entire time, slightly marring his handsome face for Blaine.

But Kurt. Kurt was something else. Kurt was always something else.

As they made their way over to their table, his smile grew easy and his face lighting up with it, even if part was hidden behind his dark glasses. His hair too was out of his face for a change; it made him look older, but for the soft redness to his cheeks, making him look infinitely youthful.

Blaine finally took a moment to take in Kurt's outfit and felt his breath catch in his throat. It was well-fitted, and snug around him, his legs well defined under the leggings, even his boots seemed tailored to bring out the shape of them.

Blaine's eyes darted back up, feeling his own cheeks burning. Kurt was his friend. He'd never thought anything about the clothes he'd worn before, and Blaine had never really allowed himself a moment to really notice that Kurt had a body beneath those clothes.

As they gathered around the table, Kurt reached out a hand to touch the edge. Blaine opened his mouth slightly to say something- tell Kurt how... how lovely he looked. And his voice seemed to stick in his throat. He was vaguely aware of how the others were moving and talking around him, maybe even embracing their hellos, but he hardly cared.

"You're wearing a skirt," he blurted out. He promptly shut his mouth, wishing he could swallow the words as Kurt's little smile faltered.

"It's a kilt," he said defensively, his cheeks seemingly even more red than before. If it were possible to drown in idiocy, Blaine would be a goner. He swallowed a little tightly.

"No I mean," he started to say. "You look different. I mean good different. You look well. I mean nice. You look nice." The words fell away in a rush. An embarrassing rush.

Let it be known, on this day, Blaine Anderson was dragged out to sea by a huge wave of idiocy, drowning in his own humiliation.

Kurt's face split into a smile, a larger one than before, the redness in his face making it look that kind of adorable that Blaine could only smile back at. Kurt didn't say anything in reply, and only then did Blaine realise the entire table was looking at them. He glanced across to see Rachel sat between Mercedes and Jesse, grinning over at him. She quirked her head and met Mercedes's eyes and they both exchanged a small, almost knowing smile.

"Are you two done flirting?" Sam was the one to bluntly interrupt the silence. "Can we order some food now?"

Blaine didn't think it was actually possible, but it certainly felt like he was blushing up to his roots. He glanced at Kurt, who scoffed through a short laugh and began to find his way around the table, fingers skimming the edge, hand reaching out into the empty space beside Blaine. His fingers brushed softly, and very momentarily, against the side of Blaine's leg. He tilted his head up, still leaning over to find space, so their faces were level.

"Hi," he said softly, smiling at Blaine.

"Hi," Blaine breathed back, drinking in Kurt's face for the moment it was there in front of him, before he shifted to sit, and his face was away from Blaine's. The others had begun their chatter again, reading from the menus and beginning their overly loud conversations so hadn't noticed the small exchange. Whatever that small exchange had been.

Blaine coughed. "You haven't got your cane," he noted when the first round of drinks were brought over.

"No, it gets in the way," Kurt replied, after a sip of his coke. "You know, I'll just stick to people. Make sure I don't trip over anyone." He laughed, but there was the undertone of a well-hidden anxiety beneath it.

"Want me to hold your hand?" Blaine teased, a small attempt at easing the situation.

Kurt smiled. There was not much space between them, cramped around the table, but he lifted his hand off it and reached across to touch Blaine's arm. He caught him by the elbow, skimming his fingers down Blaine's jacket sleeve until they were over his hand, lying in his lap. He threaded their fingers together and rested them under the table, not saying a word, leaving them clasped even after their meals arrived, forcing them both to eat with one hand.

Blaine was very warm, and it had nothing to do with the weather outside.

The gym had been completely transformed so it barely resembled the bleak arena their assemblies were held. Despite being immersed in the dark, it seemed brighter than it ever had, the banners and streamers highlighting the room and brightening the space allowed for dancing. That space that was constantly streaming with laughing and hyper students, the sophomores that had snuck in without dates blended in with the rest, the floor a mess of overheated bodies dancing to the blaring music.

The lights flashed around them and Blaine blinked, turning away, the strain to his eyes hurting his head. Rachel was on the dance floor with Jesse, whom Blaine found tolerable if a little arrogant, and he, Mercedes, Kurt and Sam were crowded around a table again, laughing over the noise around them.

"Who are you voting for Prom Queen and King?" Mercedes leaned over and asked Blaine and Kurt when Sam went off to the stage to sing with Puck and Artie.

"Santana, obviously," a voice behind Blaine announced. He leaned his head back to see Brittany lean across him and grab his drink. She was visibly sweaty from all the dancing she'd been doing, wiping her hand across her forehead as she put the cup back down. "But not Karofsky." She threw a dark look across the room and Blaine followed where her eyes went.

Santana was dancing with Karofsky, and she was actually laughing, seemingly forgetting herself. Blaine looked back at Brittany, her expression softer. He smiled up at her, feeling warm and lightheaded. She caught his smile and her own face split.

"Hello, sunshine," she laughed. "Did Puck spike the punch?"

Blaine shook his head, eyes darting to Kurt, who was taking a large drink from his cup.

"No," he told her. "I'm just happy." He didn't take his eyes off Kurt. Brittany pulled up a chair next to him and fell down into it, stretching.

"I think," Kurt said, "I'm going to do a write-in vote. Prom Queen should be the most beautiful girl in the room. That honour I think should go to Mercedes here."

Mercedes threw back her head and barked out a laugh, curls falling into her eyes. Blaine smiled and took his glass back off Brittany to raise it.

"Hear, hear," he chimed, and Brittany leaned across to grab Sam's neglected glass and raised that too, until the three of them exclaimed around her, "Mercedes for Queen!"

She wiped a tear of mirth from her eye as she giggled. "You all better not. I do not want to be caught between Quinn and Santana in a fist fight." The rest of the table roared out in laughter at that, earning a glance from a group of sophomore girls on the opposite table.

Kurt leaned to the side and mumbled something into Mercedes's ear, herself leaning in so he could find it. She laughed almost silently to what Kurt said. Blaine watched them laugh together, the corner of his lip tugging up.

The song came to an end, the boys on stage bowing to the applause, moving off to be replaced by Mike and Tina. Blaine threw a wave to Mike, and then a thumbs-up. Mike caught it and smiled through his nerves.

"Good luck," he mouthed.

Sam rejoined the group at the table, Artie coming up behind him. As Mike and Tina began their rendition of Ain't No Mountain High Enough, Brittany sprung up and grabbed Mercedes by the arm.

"Your Majesty," she said with a small curtsey. "Time to dance, come on." She tugged Mercedes up and pulled her onto the dance floor, both disappearing as Mercedes laughed, "Is that how you address your Queen!"

Sam and Artie laughed after them, joining them through the throng of people. Blaine watched them go, almost longingly, but stayed glued in his chair. He looked over to Kurt, last traces of his smile barely visible now. He was quiet, threading his fingers on top of the table. Blaine took a breath.

"Want to join them?" he asked and smiled as Kurt's head shot up, grin wide. He nodded and Blaine slot his arm through Kurt's, guiding him around the table to join the group as they waded through the crowds clumped together.

As they reached the circle of their friends, Mercedes linked her arm around Kurt, and his arm fell from Blaine's. He moved to dance next to Sam and Artie, who were both moving awkwardly and hilariously about in the small space they had. He glanced over the circle. Kurt was giggling between Mercedes and Brittany, both holding him so he didn't fall into the group behind them.

They were in a group, they could dance and they were safe. Blaine smiled at Kurt. He smiled at him, and he wished- he really, really wished- Kurt could see it.

Mike and Tina were waving themselves off the stage, and there was silence as the crowds waited for the music to start again. Blaine remembered himself. He shot through the crowd, and jumped up onto the stage, Brittany following him, sliding to her backup microphone. He saw in the corner of his eye the rest of the group move back to the table. Kurt sat down, leaning his elbows on the top, waving Sam and Mercedes away to go dance.

Then the band started up behind him, and he had to begin singing, and ripped his eyes from Kurt's slightly flushed face and closed them. He breathed the music and smiled almost into the song, lost to everything else in the room for a few short minutes.

When he reached their table again, Mercedes and Sam looked a little more serious than they had when he'd left, and Kurt was sucking on his lip. Rachel was leaning over the table with her head in her hands. Puck had joined the group, moving uneasily on the balls of his feet.

"What's the matter?" Brittany asked, breathless.

"Finn and Jesse just got thrown out," Mercedes told them. "They started fighting while you were singing. And Artie tried to spike the punch, so he's been taken out by Sue." Blaine saw Puck shift uncomfortably next to Sam, before he announced he was getting a drink and scooted off.

"Me too," Rachel announced, head shooting up, hurrying off in Puck's trail.

"We were only singing for five minutes," Brittany said. "How did we miss all that?"

"Blink and you miss everything." Kurt's voice was heavy, unsaid irony dripping in his words.

The air between the remaining ones of them at the table was stiff, the laughter from before and the mindless chatter dissolved. Another song began, slower than all the others before. Sam and Mercedes looked at each other and waved awkwardly on the spot.

"Go dance," Blaine told them, moving to sit close to Kurt, despite his warmth and ignoring his damp forehead. They smiled at him, and slid past the table to dance together. Blaine watched them with a soft smile, listening to the song Tina was singing with eyes closed.

He felt soft pressure against his side, eyes opening slowly. Kurt was leaning into him, listening to the song as Blaine was. Blaine took in the small frown on his mouth, and the hand tapping against his leg in rhythm with the music. He opened his mouth, but it was incredibly dry. He remained still in his chair. Eyes closing again not to enjoy the music this time, but in shame, that he couldn't even ask Kurt to dance.

His hand clenched in his lap and then Kurt's fingers were over it once more, and it relaxed as Kurt brushed over the back of his hand, turning it over to clasp their palms together.

Blaine looked up from their hands to Kurt's face.

"Are you okay?" He didn't need an answer. He could already read it from Kurt's face.

"No." His face wasn't in Blaine's direction, but directed ahead. He didn't turn it to answer. "I want to dance."

Blaine sighed. "I know, Kurt. I mean, we kind of have. A bit." Kurt shook his head but didn't loosen his grip on Blaine's hand.

"Barely," he disagreed. "It was fun, but I want to dance. I've been practising for months. I want to dance at my Prom. Mercedes has Sam. Rachel has Jesse-"

"Not any more," Blaine reminded him. "He got kicked out. You could dance with her."

"Not the point, Blaine." He sounded tired. Exasperated. But he didn't pull his hand from Blaine's in the slightest. He tilted his face, so it was completely opposite Blaine's. Blaine swallowed his breaths. His eyes scanned over Kurt's face, inches from his own. He could probably count the scattered freckles across his nose if they stayed paused for long enough.

"I like you," Kurt said plainly.

Blaine blinked, trying to take in Kurt's short words and his face in at the same time. Trying to ignore the urge and the wish to see his whole face. He really wished he could, especially in this moment. It seemed important. The words were simple enough, words Blaine already knew were true, and yet there seemed to be more weight on them, in this overcrowded, sweaty room, with their faces so close and their hands pressed so tightly together.

"I like you, too," Blaine replied after a beat, the words also oddly heavy on his tongue. The thin line of Kurt's mouth quirked.

"I want to dance with you," Kurt told him, lips still turned up.

"Yeah," Blaine breathed, barely aware of what he was agreeing to. Tina's voice was fading, and what a beautiful voice it was to have in the background at that moment. How much more intimate a seemingly insignificant moment on an unimportant table in the middle of the gym was made. He didn't want to continue the sentence, not wanting to ruin anything, but it carried on without him. His voice breaking as he admitted it. "But I'm scared, Kurt."

"So am I," Kurt said thickly. Blaine breathed out a laugh and Kurt followed. Tina's voice was gone now, light clapping surrounding the room as she made her way off the stage. Blaine pulled his hand away to clap her, watching as she hugged Mike at the edge of the floor.

Santana was moving up the steps on to the stage and made her way over to the microphone. She tapped it a couple of times, the frequency ringing out across the room. Kurt flinched next to him and nudged at Blaine when he laughed.

"Only a few more songs before the Junior Prom Queen and King are revealed," she spoke down the microphone. "So move your asses and vote. For me. Obviously." Kurt shook a little in his laughter next to him, before the sound of the music started drowning him out. It was an upbeat one, one he recognised from his mom playing in the kitchen as she cooked. A Dusty Springfield one he couldn't help but smile to.

He thought quickly as Santana began to sing. There had just been a slow song. Another one wouldn't be planned until the Prom Queen was announced. He wasn't particularly sure how playlisting for a Prom worked, he was well aware, but he counted on the next few to be fast. He could dance to an upbeat song.

For Kurt. He could.

He pulled himself up and extended his hand, resting it on Kurt's shoulder.

"May I have this dance?" Kurt grinned and tilted his head up, a short nod following. He lifted himself up and Blaine directed them around the groups of dancers, slipping past until they had some space around them. Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist and tugged him, a soft spin along with Kurt's musical laughter.

They danced careful for barely a few seconds, the music then carrying them, their feet taking them with the pace, their giggles following. They moved into the music and forgot nearly everything around them- the other dancers, their friends, their conversation moments before.

Blaine fumbled a little, loosening his grip on Kurt so he could move more smoothly. Kurt gripped onto Blaine's sleeves.

"I don't want to fall over!" he yelped, but his laugh followed it, and then he stumbled over his own feet, colliding into Blaine with the fall.

"It's okay," Blaine assured him, trying to lift him up. "I've got you." But Kurt lifted his head up from Blaine's shoulder, laughter peeling away from him in short bursts before he couldn't stop, pressing his cheek against Blaine's, still cackling in his ear and spinning him around. Blaine relaxed, laughing too. He tilted his head, lips brushing against Kurt's cheek accidentally, but neither really bothered to take notice.

He pulled his face away to look at Kurt though, who was still grinning, pulling his hands down now to link them with Blaine's and dancing that way. Blaine grinned too. Widely and unashamedly. Kurt, who only a few months ago tugged sharply away after tripping up, closing off and wanting to stop, had just stumbled. And he was laughing. Laughing like he couldn't remember what being ashamed or embarrassed was meant to feel like.

The song came to an abrupt end, and both breathing heavily and still smiling, they pulled away to clap Santana off the stage.

Sam had taken over the microphone again, waving at the swarm of girls at the front grabbing at him. Blaine smiled, regaining his breath as Kurt did.

As he expected another fast-paced song to begin, the band behind Sam struck up a tune on the piano. A beautiful melody playing before Sam began to sing. A beautiful, slow melody

A slow song.

"Want to sit back down?" Blaine asked hurriedly, looking at Kurt in time to see his smile fall. The groups around them had already begun to split off into couples, or leave the floor completely. Blaine moved to follow the ones leaving but the look on Kurt's face made the food he'd eaten earlier sit heavily in his stomach. As he turned he caught Santana's eyes from at the side of the stage. She wasn't glaring, but there was something there in her eyes. She was staring past him, to Kurt and then back to himself. He held her gaze, and then looked behind him, where Kurt stood.

He could see it written completely over his face. He could see as plain as day. He'd barely moved to follow Blaine, the smile he'd worn before untraceable. He couldn't turn away and leave him of something he wanted so badly.

He moved back up to Kurt and took his hand.

A quick glance over his shoulder. Santana had them all under control. He was okay. They were okay.

"You want to dance?" he heard himself say, though it seemed too far off to actually be him.

"Yeah," Kurt answered softly. "Yes. Please. I'd... slow dance. At Prom. Please."

Blaine had already taken a his arm and wrapped it around Kurt before he'd finished answering, his other hand staying in Kurt's as they swayed softly to the music. The short moment of whether it would end up being awkward left Blaine as soon as Kurt relaxed into him, and it was just how it had been with the previous song.

There were no people, and there was no consciousness of before or awareness of after. It was him and Kurt and the song.

"I wanted to tell you," Kurt muttered. His voice was low, but beside Blaine's ear. He faltered, voice too thick with emotion.

"Tell me what?" Blaine mumbled. He was so lost in the sounds. His eyes fell shut. Kurt's breath in his ear, the song soft around them.

"I wanted tell you," he started again, and Blaine opened his eyes to look at Kurt. "When you said I looked nice at dinner. I wanted to say it back." Blaine almost stopped moving. Somehow his feet kept the pave. Somehow he kept swaying with Kurt. But how Kurt's voice stuck. How it shook. It was almost a clean break through Blaine's chest. "I really wanted to say it back." His hand tightened in Blaine's.

That tightened hand must have kept him from crumbling. If he let go, Blaine was sure to. He opened his mouth, willing something to say. But he was stuck. Kurt's own lips parted, but his words were lost too, and Blaine had to force back the chuckle. They were both so lost now to continue.

So Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, the position only slightly uncomfortable until Kurt moved their arms. Until he and Kurt were closer than they really should have been, and Blaine's eyes were falling shut again, Kurt's breath still in his ear, and the scent of his aftershave surrounding Blaine.

There was that wave again, drowning him still, and so overwhelming. Except this time he welcomed it. This time his stupidity was as much a part of him as anything else. He moved away from Kurt and looked at him. He let his eyes take in Kurt's face. How his hair had come out of place, how it fell across his forehead, and stuck up at the side. How his cheeks were deep in colour from the warmth. How his lips twisted in confusion as Blaine pulled away.

"Blaine?" The song was coming to a slow end now, the final notes coming up soon to be followed by a soft round of applause. "What's wrong?"

Blaine bit his lip, and moved forward again, hand twisting back into Kurt's, arm around him once more, resting in the small of his back.

"Nothing," he muttered, completely in truth, as the final note of the song rang out.

The distant memory of a phone call with Rachel rang too through his own thoughts. How she'd insisted Blaine had realised he was in love because he'd wanted to kiss Kurt. How he'd argued against her.

Besides, falling in love would feel a lot more... something more than that.

How would you know?

He hadn't had an answer then for her. What it would feel like. What it would be.

It would feel something like this, he thought.

He gripped Kurt closer even as everyone else pulled away to clap, his head once again on his shoulder, his eyes closed, nothing but Kurt around him.

It would feel something like this.