Kurt stops bouncing along to the song playing on the radio, the toothy smile on his face (Blaine’s favorite smile, because it means that his shields are down, that he’s relaxed and truly happy) disintegrating into a scowl as they pull up to the Lima Bean parking lot. Blaine follows the line of his glare out the windshield and sighs at what he sees.

�“Does he have out entire coffee date schedule memorized?” Kurt wonders. Sebastian’s shiny red sports car, which screams spoiled rich boy, is parked a few spaces away, and they can see him through the big coffee shop windows. He’s sipping at his drink and reading a book, probably thinking himself worldly and sophisticated. It seems innocent enough, but from the way Kurt glowers, you would think he was committing a horrible crime just by existing. “Why can he not take a hint?”

�“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Blaine says with a sigh.

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s not like you do a whole lot to discourage him.”

�“Come on, Kurt, he’s not that bad.”

�“That’s because he constantly showers you with flattery to distract you from the fact that he’s a smarmy douchebag.”

Blaine feels his face flush. Yeah, Kurt has a point - the fact is, Blaine just doesn’t know how to blow someone off. He had thought blocking Sebastian on Facebook would be a good enough hint (Sebastian had taken to ‘liking’ every single status update and commenting on every single picture he posted and chatting with him every time he logged on, and even for him it was a bit much), but apparently it hadn’t been. He was still coming on just as strong as ever.

Was it so bad that Blaine was flattered? True, he would have preferred Sebastian to leave him alone, but… as much as all the compliments made him uncomfortable, they kind of gave him a confidence boost, too. It wasn’t worth it to upset Kurt, but still. “I don’t want to be rude.”

�“Sometimes you have to be. Sebastian constantly interrupting our dates is what’s rude. ” Kurt sighs and slumps back in his seat. Blaine squirms in his seat as the silence drags on, trying to figure out if Kurt is angrier at him or at Sebastian. Finally, Kurt speaks up again. “Hey, come here.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows, but unbuckles his seatbelt and scoots closer to Kurt’s side of the car. Kurt meets him halfway, and before Blaine can ask what’s going on, he wraps a hand around the back of Blaine’s neck, tugging him down into a searing kiss.

Blaine jerks away, purely out of surprise - they don’t do this, they never do PDA, except for a few brief instances of parking but only down the street from their respective houses, and always at night. It’s too risky, even here where the owners of the coffee shop know and like them, and until now, he had thought it made Kurt uncomfortable. Kurt, luckily, doesn’t look offended that Blaine pulled away, and his hand stays on Blaine’s neck, playing with the loose hairs that his gel couldn’t tame. “Kurt, what?” He splutters, and Kurt smirks. “We can’t - anyone could see.”

�“Your deductive skills astound me.” He pulls Blaine close again, the kiss open-mouthed and deep and dirty, and Blaine can’t resist this time, cupping Kurt’s cheeks in his hands as Kurt runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, as if chasing some elusive taste. Kurt’s unoccupied hand strokes up and down the side of his chest, his touch still incredible even through the thick sweater he wears.

Without breaking the kiss, Kurt manages to swing a leg over Blaine’s lap to straddle him. They really, really need to stop - anyone could see them. He would be lying if he said that didn’t thrill him a little. Sebastian - fuck, Sebastian could just glance out the window at any time and watch and know that he doesn’t get to have this. Just Kurt. Kurt is the only one who gets to slide his hand up under Blaine’s shirt, or twist his fingers through Blaine’s hair (that’s a rare thing, normally Kurt refuses to come near his hair unless he takes a shower first) just to muss it up.

Blaine finds himself snaking his arms down, wrapping around Kurt’s waist and tugging him closer in Blaine’s lap. Kurt groans, low in his throat. “Fuck, Kurt,” Blaine gasps, breaking the kiss to suck in a deep breath.

�“Mine,” Kurt whispers, so quiet that Blaine wouldn’t have heard it if Kurt weren’t so close, his breath wet and hot as he kisses up the column of Blaine’s throat, stopping at the hinge of his jaw. He licks at the spot, almost as if testing it, and Blaine’s hands twist into the fabric of Kurt’s shirt as he hums appreciatively and then latches on, sucking hard on Blaine’s skin.

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, focusing all of his willpower into not letting his hips buck up into Kurt’s - he doesn’t care how far Kurt takes this (whatever this is), he doesn’t have the nerve to dry hump Kurt in the car in broad daylight, no matter how hot the idea is. Kurt sucks, licks, and even nibbles at that spot on his neck, both hands tangled up in Blaine’s hair now, the little sting every time he tugs on it making Blaine whimper.

And then, all at once, Kurt’s warm mouth is gone, his hands untangled from Blaine’s hair, and Blaine blinks as Kurt sits back, head tilted to the side as if inspecting his handiwork. “No, hey, wait,” Blaine croaks. Kurt grins - god, but he’s gorgeous with his lips all bruised and swollen from kissing, clothes rumpled from the grip of Blaine’s hands - and crawls off Blaine’s lap. He reaches up and tilts the rear-view mirror toward Blaine so that he can see.�

Fuck, he looks utterly wrecked, eyes glazed and pupils dilated, hair stuck up in all directions, lips plump and red, and there’s a mark high on his neck that Kurt put there, dark purple and red and huge. It’s high enough that he can’t even cover it even if he popped his collar (not worth it, to Kurt popped collars are a punishable offense), and something tells him that Kurt won’t lend him the soft gray scarf wound around his neck.

�“Shall we get some coffee?” Kurt says, as casually as if he’s talking about the weather, but his voice is breathless and sweet the way only Blaine can make it. He tries to straighten out his clothes a little, but Kurt says firmly, “Leave them.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows, and Kurt’s grin just widens, his expression downright devious. He slings an arm around Blaine’s shoulder as they walk through the parking lot, and as they catch sight of Sebastian in the window again (Blaine shivers as he wonders, once again, what he saw and how much), he leans in close and whispers, “Mine. ”

�“All yours,” Blaine murmurs back, and he loves it. He loves being Kurt’s and he loves that Kurt is his. No spoiled rich kid who doesn’t know how to take a hint can change that.

When they get their coffee from the barista and deliberately walk past his table, Sebastian acts like he’s been engrossed in his book the entire time, looking up and feigning shock when he sees the two of them. “Blaine, what a surprise,” he says, never even looking at Kurt.

�“Well hello, Sebastian,” Kurt drawls, not giving Blaine a chance to speak. “Fancy seeing you here.”

�“…Yeah.” Sebastian’s eyes narrow and Blaine flushes when he realizes that Sebastian is definitely not looking at his face, but at a spot on his neck. He can’t conceal a grin. “Small town.”� Blaine wants to laugh - they all know that Sebastian would have no reason to come to the Lima Bean if not for him. The guy really is absurd.

Kurt pulls two chairs up to Sebastian’s table and sits down, much to Blaine’s surprise - it’s usually the Warbler who approaches them, not the other way around. He keeps his arm around Blaine’s shoulders as Sebastian starts in on his usual routine of blatantly ignoring Kurt and lavishing Blaine with compliments. The flattery and thinly veiled insults toward Kurt fall short this time, though, and Kurt smiles, his thumb brushing against the huge and obvious hickey on Blaine’s neck, over and over, just in case Sebastian hadn’t noticed it yet - unlikely. Each time, it sends a tiny shock of arousal down Blaine’s spine, to the point where Blaine can hardly focus on the conversation.

�“So, Blaine,” Sebastian says, shooting a little scowl at Kurt, which he counters with an innocent smile. “The New Directions had better be working overtime to take on the Warblers at Regionals. Of course, with you leading them, what could go wrong?”

�“Oh, well, I don’t know if I even have a solo yet,” Blaine says, eyes flicking over to Kurt. “But we’ve been working very hard.”

�“Yes, practicing day and night, right babe?” Kurt says, eyes locked on Blaine - pet names aren’t really his thing, but Blaine likes the sound of it when Kurt’s voice goes all sultry. Kurt presses his thumb right into the dark purple bruise, and Blaine’s eyes flutter closed, arching into the touch and letting a tiny groan escape his lips, forgetting for just a second that they’re in a crowded coffee shop.

When he blinks his eyes open, Sebastian looks more disgruntled than ever, and Kurt is practically preening. Blaine wonders if he should feel manipulated, but Kurt’s fingernails running along the back of his neck make him decide he’s okay with it. “You know, I think I’ll get another scone,” Sebastian says with a huff, but he takes his book with him, and doesn’t come back to the table.

Kurt’s smug demeanor vanishes and he dissolves into giggles, pressing his face into Blaine’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles through the laughter, “but oh my god, his face. ”

Blaine grins and kisses the top of Kurt’s head. “You’re ridiculous,” he says fondly.

Kurt entwines their fingers, squeezing Blaine’s hand gently. “And you,” he murmurs, that devious smirk still on his lips, “are all mine.”

�