Chapter 8

Kurt hardly saw Blaine the next week. When they arrived in school on Monday, a fresh cup of coffee had been pressed into Kurt's hand along with a rushed apology from Blaine as he moved clumsily around in his locker.

"Regionals next week," Kurt heard Blaine's muffled voice say from within the locker. "Got... stuff to practice."

That had meant no extra sessions after school. In fact, it had meant no disturbing Blaine or the rest of the Glee kids during lunch periods. Instead he hid himself away in the tiny pocket of the library, typing away while he ignored the itch to get up and join them.

It had also meant less math tutoring from Blaine and Kurt pounded his head endlessly against his desk every time he forced himself to study.

Kurt found himself drifting off to the sound of Blaine's voice the few hours they managed to get together. He didn't mean to, most of the time, but it started happening more often than not. Taking AP classes had been a tough choice to make at the start of the year, many teachers and his dad included had asked Kurt if he was sure he could cope.

He'd said of course he could.

Maybe he wasn't as sure now, falling asleep over Chemistry homework and waking up with a crick in his neck a few hours later, laptop still buzzing by his side.

It was no surprise when Blaine had escaped Rachel at the weekend and managed to smuggle his way into Kurt's house that the two of them had collapsed on Kurt's bed and slowly drifted off.

Blaine tried to keep them awake, but his one-sided conversation had drifted off into incoherent mumblings until all Kurt could hear were soft breaths by his ear.

He shifted slowly out of his deep sleep, his head buried in Blaine's chest, the soft smell of fabric softener surrounding him.

He blinked his eyes open, hand flying to his face as he realised he wasn't wearing his glasses. He pulled himself up softly, immediately missing the warmth of Blaine's arms snug around his waist. He leant across to the side, hand splaying out against his dresser until he found them and pulled them over his eyes.

"Kurt?" a muffled voice spoke up, mumbling from the spot buried in pillows by his side.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Kurt smiled, stretching his legs and arms in front of him.

"Come back to sleep," Blaine murmured, voice far off as though he was digging deeper into the sheets.

His arm snaked across Kurt's, pulling him until he was lying back down, side pressed to Blaine's chest. Peeling Blaine's arm away, Kurt shrunk back, hovering slightly over the edge of his bed.

It was too much. It was too much to be conscious and to be that close to him. It was too much to not only be that close, but to be that comfortable being pulled back by Blaine, how comfortable it would have been to sink back into dreamless sleep lying next to him.

"You put your glasses back on," Blaine muttered, frown in his voice. "You looked uncomfortable with them on so I took them off," he told him through a yawn.

"Don't fall back asleep," Kurt chastised with a harsh nudge, jolting Blaine up. He didn't hear exactly what Blaine said from his mumbling into the pillows, but he could take a wild guess.

"I wasn't going to go back to sleep," he argued, bed dipping as he sat up. Silence lay between them, Kurt shifting uncomfortably trying to figure his next words out.

"Do you want to do some math work?" Blaine ventured, soon laughing once he saw how Kurt's face twisted into a grimace. "How about something else?" He brushed past Kurt, scrambling up off the bed, padding across the room until Kurt could hear the soft zip and shuffle of Blaine's book bag.

He waited patiently, fingers threading together, on the edge of the bed waiting for Blaine to zip the bag up and fumble back across the room.

In the next moment, Blaine was pushing against Kurt, shuffling up next to him, until they were both back against the pillows.

"Move up, let me squish in."

They were settled up against each other as Kurt heard the quick flicking of pages of what Kurt could only guess was one of their regular magazines. He started to read- an article Kurt wasn't particularly concentrating on. Instead he opted to nuzzle his cheek against Blaine's shoulder as he listened, eyes dropping at the sound of Blaine's soft voice.

He would definitely never tire of this. He liked it when Blaine read to him, his voice was oddly soft and his laughter musical. And it didn't involve Kurt talking back, so he could lie back and close his eyes, burying himself in the smell of Blaine's woollen cardigan, and the feel of his leg brushing against Kurt's.

He ignored the hairs standing on edge over his legs and arms those times.

Kurt had drifted out from the words Blaine had been saying, only focusing on the tone of his voice, but a single word mingled amongst Blaine's blurred monologue jolted him from his hazy daydream.

"What?" he laughed, propping himself up.

"Hm?" Blaine cut himself off, shifting so he felt more turned towards Kurt.

"What did you just say?" he asked quietly, smiling weakly, waiting for Blaine to laugh at him.

"I... this article was just talking about a 'sexy new look,'" he repeated, shifting up on the bed. "Why?"

A short trill of laughter escaped in relief.

"God, I thought you'd started talking about sex to check if I was listening," he admitted.

"So, you weren't listening?" Blaine nudged his elbow, laughing as Kurt shot him a pathetic attempt at a glare. His laugh faltered as he caught the sly grin from Kurt, curling at his lips. "What are you grinning at?" he asked warily.

"Aren't you doing lessons in 'Sexy' in Glee?" Kurt chuckled. Blaine groaned, the magazine in his hands landing audibly against the bed, vibrating the mattress as it did.

"Santana said you were hilarious," Kurt said in as a plain a voice as he could without breaking into laughter, ignoring the indignant huff from Blaine. "Said she couldn't stop laughing at you."

Blaine's hand was over Kurt's side, giving him a small shove, clicking his tongue.

"I'm plenty sexy," he argued, a smug smile to his voice.

Kurt settled into his pillows again. "I'm not saying you're not." Blaine hummed in satisfaction but Kurt turned to him, quirking his eyebrows.

"Then again, I can't see if you have an ugly face or not."

His mouth was full of fluff the next second, a cushion hitting him squarely in the face. He scrambled it off, yelling in shock, chucking it back over to Blaine, whose laughter wobbled as the cushion must have hit him in the chest. The mattress dipped as he lay down, still coughing his broken laughter.

"You don't mean that," Blaine said with a small chuckle.

"No," Kurt grinned, sidling up closer to Blaine and settling back into the bed with him. "I don't."

"I mean," Blaine started, no longer any laughter in his voice. "You don't think being sexy is all in looks?" His voice was hesitant, breathing out a forced laugh to ease the situation.

Kurt pulled back from Blaine. "Well, for me, it kind of can't be," he replied, trying to keep the lightness in his tone, but the distance they'd pulled between them felt stiff, his chest tightening with the sudden weight pressed against it.

The bed dipped again as Blaine moved up, shuffling his legs, until he was pulled up, leaning against the wall with a soft thump.

Kurt followed him up, unaware of the pull.

"What do you find sexy?" Blaine asked, a small quirk to his voice Kurt couldn't place.

Kurt laughed, drawing his shoulders back, shaking his head.

"What?" Blaine's voice cut through and Kurt gave a short laugh.

"We're not talking about that," Kurt told him, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

He shifted against the bed sheets, praying for the conversation to turn, but Blaine poked him softly with his toes.

"Kurt," he chortled at him. "Go on; tell me." Kurt shook his head, brow furrowed in frustration, scowling in the track of Blaine's giggles. They stopped, Blaine coughing, with a small apology. "Please?"

"Why would you want to know?" Kurt quipped, raising his eyebrows. The sounds of cloth rubbing against the wall signalled a shrug from Blaine.

"Anything to see how Kurt Hummel ticks," he replied, knowingly, resigned smile to his voice.

"I..." he froze, determining the space between himself and Blaine carefully, measuring himself, holding a breath before he carried on. "It's about the voice," he admitted, blush rising to his cheeks. "I like a person's voice." He heard Blaine's short, thoughtful hum, imagining him gently nodding his head in understanding. Kurt could leave it at that, and they needed not ever bring the subject up again, let his blush die down and go back to listening to Blaine read. He could have. If he didn't feel the need to be so completely honest with Blaine he blurted stupid things out.

"It's about the body too," he added, swearing at himself, cheeks flaring as Blaine's silence spoke volumes.

"Body?" Blaine repeated, smiling, Kurt imagined, but his voice was soft. Kurt shifted further to the edge of the bed.

"I just mean that, what I mean is," he stuttered, warmth spreading down his neck. "I meant that I like being close to people." He paused but Blaine stayed silent, waiting for Kurt to carry on. "I like small things. Holding hands, f...feeling people. Intimacy. If I had that with someone I was in love with, that would be sexy enough for me. Oh my God, is my face on fire?" His hands shot to his face, covering his burning cheeks. He couldn't even sense how Blaine was reacting- smug smile, or dazed look of confusion. Possibly alongside an uncomfortable squirm.

"No, Kurt," he told him carefully, cold hand wrapping around his and pulling it away from his face. "I understand."

He threaded their fingers together, the brief squeeze leaving as the mattress dipped and Blaine's feet thudded softly to the floor. The sounds of Blaine's fumbling around the room echoed loudly through him but the blood had rushed to his head, sound tunnelling out, faint as it was masked with the own beating of Kurt's heart, the ghost of Blaine's fingers still against his. He smiled over to Blaine, who fidgeted tirelessly in the corner until music started playing, a triumphant laugh escaping as Kurt realised he'd been trying to get his iPod dock to work.

His feet curled out from beneath him to land gently on the floor, leaning up against the edge of the bed listening to Blaine flick through his playlists.

The song he stopped on rang loudly across the room, Kurt jolting up before he grinned, shaking his head.

"Shall I show you what I think being sexy is all about?" Blaine laughed from across the room, though Kurt could see through the light tone, the joking chuckle. He turned the music up and began to sing along, and even in his over exaggerated voice sang well along with the song. Kurt's face felt sore from smiling. Smiling because it was oddly comfortable.

Blaine had a way of making things oddly comfortable.

"It's all in the song and dance," Blaine shouted from over the music and Kurt's laughs which left him gasping as Blaine added, "Because I'm moving my hips in a very Elvis Presley-esque way."

"Oh God," Kurt snorted, lifting his hand up to his mouth.

"Now you can tell Santana how sexy I am and how I'm definitely succeeding in this assignment," he told him, sounding serious enough Kurt was sure for a moment he wasn't joking.

He couldn't retort before Blaine had jerked him up, feet wobbling slightly and he rammed into Blaine as he steadied his feet. Blaine grasped his hand and span him around, singing along joyously, before catching his other hand and swaying with him in large, over the top movements. It was nothing like their careful dancing in the auditorium, it wasn't anything like the times they'd danced to faster songs. Their feet bumped against each other, shoulders brushing and singing as they collapsed against each other, words of the song lost in their mixed laughter.

"Swivel your hips, Kurt?" Blaine said, snarky question in his voice.

"I am not," Kurt laughed over the music, poking Blaine in the chest, "swivelling my hips."

"You just don't have as much sex appeal as me, right?"

Kurt scoffed, falling backwards, landing softly with a small bounce against the edge of his bed. He reached across from himself until the smooth material ran between his fingers, gripping the cushion and throwing it in front of him. It hit Blaine with a soft thump.

"Shut up, muchkin," he chided, laughing as he blocked the cushion with his arms as Blaine threw it back.

"Oh, that hurt," Blaine snapped lightly, sliding over to Kurt on the bed smoothly, as the song came to an end, and dug his fingers lightly into Kurt's ribs, who flung back with a short squeal.

It was too late as Blaine surrounded him, backed up against the wall, leaving him to kick his legs pathetically as he tried to struggle away from Blaine's fingers tickling his sides.

"No..." he shouted through his gasps. "That's cheating! Stop! Blaine, stop," he batted him against his chest, breath shallow from his rapid laughter, hardly caring that his glasses dug in sharply as his face pressed against Blaine's chest.

He pulled up, hands pulling at Blaine's wrists until they were away from his sides, digging his own fingers into Blaine's ribs, with no result worth celebrating over.

"No use," he twitted. "Not ticklish," he added with a small dig at Kurt's side, Kurt flinching away.

Kurt groaned, hands reaching in front to shove Blaine. "You're failing your assignment," he told him. "I'm going to tell Santana how unsexy you are."

"Because I'm not ticklish?"

"Exactly," he shot, tilting his head and grinning wickedly, brow lifted.

"Good. If I fail," Blaine sighed overdramatically, "maybe then Rachel won't drag me to her house to write songs every night about eyebrow tweezers."

Kurt choked up his laughter, hands in front of his mouth as he coughed violently. Blaine leant into him, thumping his back softly.

"You think I'm joking!" he mumbled irritably. "But you didn't hear the headband song."

"Oh I'm sure you're very serious," he replied, small smile pulling at his lips. He paused, drawing himself up, curling his legs and leaning against the wall. "Is this for Regionals?"

Blaine hummed, far off and low.

"That's next week right?" he asked.

"Yes, it's already here. I can't wait," Blaine's voice was almost smiling itself, excitement bubbling from it. Enough for Kurt's mouth to curl, eyebrows lowered as Blaine's excitement bubbled through him.

"Me too, actually," he confessed, dipping his head. "You're all going to be amazing."

"Are you coming?" Blaine piped up, voice raised in a soft hopefulness Kurt didn't have the heart to squash.

His pause was enough of an indication, and Blaine babbled through, not leaving Kurt time to answer.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that," his voice was hurried, Kurt imagining a pathetic hand gesture, waving off his question. "You don't have to come."

"What if I wanted to?" Kurt said slowly, feeling his ground, sensing Blaine freezing, picturing his confused frown, brows knitting together as he gazed over Kurt.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

He folded his hands across his knees and smiled over to the direction of Blaine's voice, somewhere perched on the end of his bed.

"It'll be fun, right? Dad's going anyway. I can tag along," he grinned, trying to cover his stomach twisting in double knots, which loosened only slightly at the sound of Blaine's breathy laugh.

"If you're sure," he repeated carefully.

A small laugh of "I have to come support you all" didn't sound to his own ears like a genuine enough answer but Blaine accepted it with a laugh and a giddy jump off Kurt's bed. The smile on his face was genuine even if he wasn't sure if he was trying to shrug off dread or excitement.

The people around him were cheering and shouting, their voices muddling together while he pushed through crowds, hand holding tightly on to Blaine's. Pulling to a stop, he felt a small group of people pass, brushing against him. Cool fabric tickled his bare arms and he gripped his coat in his hands, pulling himself in tighter so not to bump into any of the strangers around him.

"Look who I snuck backstage!" Blaine called, laughing, hand splayed out between Kurt's shoulder blades, pushing him forwards into the babble of loud exclaims of "Kurt!" and "Oh my God! What are you doing here?" His knees wobbled under the weight of multiple hands patting him on the shoulder and his inhaled sharply as arms wrapped around him, smothering him as the girls grabbed him, laughing against him.

His heart thrummed painfully and he pulled his arms up, trying to get them all to disperse.

"Space, guys," he gasped out, strangling a laugh. "I need space." He breathed in relief as they all stepped back and he shrunk in on himself again, hoping no other strangers would walk too close by.

The room could be any shape, any size, he could be stood at any part, near the door or opposite, by a window- and all the wanted was to pull Blaine to the side to describe it to him before his breaths became obviously anxious.

He talked to them all for a few minutes happily, coat grasped tightly against his side and cane pulled against him, ignoring that he was in a strange place where there were also strange people, he focused on the group around him. He was with friends. He was with a babbling group of overenthusiastic friends and Blaine was right here with them. He wished them luck, but he doubted many of them heard it.

Brittany had ignored the space rule, stepping closer and tracing over Kurt's suspenders. He smiled at her, always touched by those times she'd tagged along with him and Santana on their shopping trips and joined him in feeling the clothes on the racks.

Santana would tell him afterwards she'd closed her eyes too so she knew what Kurt felt like.

On that thought, he shot his head away from Brittany and to the direction of the chattering voices.

"Where's Santana?" he shouted over them, aware he still hadn't heard her talking even after ten minutes.

"Here," she spoke up, voice surprisingly close, towards his right. "Hey, Kurt, come over here with me a minute, would you?" Her voice was hushed and she brushed her fingers over Kurt's arm lightly, just as Brittany's pulled away and he heard her pad across to the others. He quirked an eyebrow at Santana, convinced she'd given a specific look to Brittany to make her turn away.

She pulled his arm lightly, directing him around, padding with him across the room, turning sharply around corners until the voices behind them were barely audible.

It was much quieter around here, their footsteps echoing loudly as they turned another corner and Santana pulled him to a stop.

"Santana," Kurt started hesitantly. "Where are we?"

"Don't get nervous," she sighed, voice distant as though her head was turned away from him. "We're in the hall round the back."

"Why? Are you going to kill me?" he quipped, with a tug at his lips.

She snorted, arm reaching out and pressing into his shoulder. He flinched back, resting a hand on the wall behind him, feeling the peeling paint beneath his fingers.

"Kurt," she said slowly. "Why are you here?"

He shifted up, head tilted to the side.

"To cheer you all on," he replied as though it was plainest thing to see.

"You've never done that before," she pointed out, taking her hand away from Kurt's shoulder.

"Well, I should have," he apologised.

"But you didn't," she sniffed. "So, why are you here?"

"I can't have a change of heart and want to cheer my friends on?"

She sighed, Kurt pictured her shrugging her shoulders, arms folded across her chest.

"No, you're right, I guess," she conceded. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable. I know how you are with unfamiliar places."

He smiled, scrunching his nose at her, her little laugh barely audible but he caught it.

"It's okay," he assured her. "Blaine said the same things when he asked me to come so-"

Her small shuffling footsteps skidded on the spot, and froze and she was looking directly at him. He could feel it. He raised his eyebrows in question at her short huff of air that escaped.

"Of course," she laughed humourlessly. "Blaine asked you." His lips drew to into a thin line as he listened to her footsteps beginning stamp lightly again in front of him.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked sharply

"Well, we've all asked you enough times," she argued, her voice sharpening. "I asked you. And you didn't want to come. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." She spat the last part and Kurt shrank back.

"I'm sorry," he told her calmly, fingers relaxing on his cane, steadying himself to the sounds of her tapping foot. "But I wasn't comfortable last year with it. A year can make a huge difference you know."

Her shoes squeaked on the floor again and her body heat pressed against Kurt's side again as she closed in.

"That's not it," she said quietly, face close enough to Kurt's he was sure she was studying his face carefully. He wished he could melt into the wall and ignore her.

"You're always talking about him," she stated, voice a little harsh but forcing itself to stay soft. "What's going on with you two?"

Kurt reeled away.

"What... I... nothing," he spluttered. "We're just friends, Santana."

He expected her to snort. To laugh at him and tell him she could see right through his burning cheeks and stuttering lies.

Instead she reached her hand across the small space between them and brushed her fingers against his arm and held her hand there.

"I don't even know what's going on with you," she sighed. "You don't talk. I need you to talk to me."

"What?" he scoffed. "Like you talk to me about you and Brittany?"

It fell from his mouth before he could stop her hand freezing against his arm, before he could stop her pulling away brusquely.

"I didn't mean-" he tried to tell her quickly, but she slapped away his hand as he reached out.

"You know what," she spat, her voice sounding oddly thick. "Screw you, Hummel."

She turned on her heel and stormed away, the loud padding of her shoes against the ground leaving him alone in the back halls with the sound of her thick voice echoing through him.

Blaine found him a few minutes later, apologising and telling him he needed to leave, having to drag him out- or it felt like it, his feet lead on the floor, dragging across, ignoring Blaine's muttered and off hand questions about why Santana had left without him.

He ignored his dad too when he finally sat down, but he soon turned back to Carole, chatting excitedly and laughing. Everyone was laughing and shouting, muttering and jeering, while he sat silently chewing on the inside of his cheek, last conversation repeating over and over in his head.

He sat through the first school's performance with gritted teeth, hardly finding enough amusement to even roll his eyes at the embarrassing choice of song, although half way through when his dad muttered about the religious song choice, he allowed himself to laugh, thankful his dad was sitting through it just as uncomfortably.

He didn't fancy standing up even when he felt everyone around him doing so to clap- the dancing must have been amazing because it didn't sound good at all- and he stayed seated lacing and unlacing his fingers until his friends were on stage.

He didn't concentrate on the second school at all, thoughts drifting so he could focus on the soft murmurings behind him.

He gripped the side of his chair tightly as Santana's words repeated themselves.

You're always talking about him.

Did he? Had he really? He hadn't noticed. But was that why Carole laughed fondly like that whenever he said Blaine's name? Was that really why Santana had been off with him backstage?

He didn't clap the second school until his dad nudged him, not even realising they'd finished, too lost in frustrated thoughts and wallowing in Santana's words.

Not that she has any right to comment, he thought bitterly.

Just when he was sure he'd frowned enough to give him permanent worry lines, he was listening to the Glee Club singing, and his face fell into an easy smile, listening to his friends singing and hearing their dancing. It was a different place, clapping along and cheering, even though moments before he'd been drowning within the body heat and noise.

He even pulled himself up when the music ran faster, onto his feet along with everyone else, feeling dizzy with overwhelming excitement, cheeks aching from his incessant smile that seemed glued to his face. The music held his smile and laughter and when it died down, and only the sound of clapping and cheering was left, he turned to his dad and pulled at his sleeve, begging for him to take him backstage.

He wasn't sure how they snuck in, but he forced his way through, Carole and his dad beside him, entering the room which was much too small to have this many bodies in. Bodies that pressed against him, thudding past, the sounds of laughter and tears mingled together, his dad's hands held firmly on his shoulders as he pushed in.

When the space opened up, his dad moved away, and Kurt sighed, relieved, not missing the warm bodies colliding against him as he ambled through, unable to see.

"Kurt!"

The shout came from close next to him, her hand gripped on his arm before he could stop her. Not a reassuring grip or comforting, but demanding.

Which is why he shrugged his arm from Santana, not feeling up to talking, pushing away until he heard another shout of his name and arms wrapping around him. His cane knocked against Blaine's legs, arms trapped in his embrace, but he buried his cheek against his shoulder. Ignoring the look he could picture on Santana's face as he congratulated Blaine and focused on how his chest shook with laughter.

Clenching his eyes shut and sinking himself in the cheering and chanting, pulling away from Blaine with a smile still sprawled across his face, feeling for the first time, as Puck and Sam clapped his shoulders, as Tina cheered alongside him, that he was beginning to become a part of something.