The year was 1986 when they met at Trax, the record store where Kurt worked most afternoons.

When the undeniably handsome stranger first walked into the store, Kurt had immediately dismissed him as one of the elite country club crowd, completely stuffy in his stiff blue blazer and pretentious striped tie. He knew the type well. They turned up their noses at him once they learned the neighborhood in which he lived. Probably looking for a gift for his debutante girlfriend, Kurt thought bitterly before bringing his attention back to the dog-eared issue of Vogue in his lap.

With his head buried in the magazine, Kurt didn't notice the way the teenager kept stealing glances in his direction as he moved around the shop, flipping through albums without really looking at them. The boy took his time, wandering through the store without any real purpose beyond working up the courage to speak to Kurt. If Kurt had been watching the handsome young boy in the private school uniform, he would have noticed that he grabbed the first record within reach before approaching the counter where Kurt was stationed.

The dark-haired stranger tossed the record onto the counter and smiled before asking, “Can I get your opinion on this?”

Setting his magazine aside, Kurt took a long, lingering look at the customer. He was handsome, really handsome, and Kurt was suddenly off balance. He raised an eyebrow before peering down at the album.

“Neil Sedaka?” Kurt looked at the boy incredulously. “You want to know what I think about Neil Sedaka?”

Chuckling, he nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“This record is blazing hot,” Kurt said with a smirk and a voice dripping with sarcasm.

“So it's... hip?” the boy asked with barely contained laughter.

“Oh,” Kurt answered dryly, “it's very hip. All the rage with the coolest people.”

The stranger laughed out loud then, the sound booming in the empty store. He flashed a brilliant smile and said, “I'll take it.”

While trying to ignore the sudden fluttering in his stomach, Kurt rang up the order in the register before pinning the customer with a steely stare. “That's nine fifty. Cash or charge? Platinum American Express card, maybe?”

Tilting his head and sizing Kurt up with eyes, the boy answered, “No, cash will be fine.”

Kurt shrugged and took the bills that the stranger slipped into his hand. He dropped two quarters in the boy's palm, handed him the album and said, “Thanks. Come again.”

The stranger looked at Kurt meaningfully and said, “I will,” before slipping out the door. As the little bell above the door tinkled, heralding the enigmatic boy's exit, Kurt once again opened his magazine and tried to forget the intent he'd imagined behind the stranger's eyes.

---

When the beautiful boy came into Trax the next week, still wearing the ridiculous uniform, Kurt didn't bother to ignore him. Instead he smiled wide at the stranger and said, “Back again? I take it that Sedaka was too hot for you? Looking for something more mellow?”

The boy laughed and offered Kurt his hand. “I'm Blaine.”

Kurt was shocked by the gesture, but he placed his hand in Blaine's all the same. “Kurt.”

“Well, Kurt, I was hoping you could help me out. I'm getting a little bored with my music collection.”

“You're in the right place,” Kurt replied with a shrug. “Anything in particular that I can help you find?”

“Not really sure,” Blaine said. “What music are you into at the moment?”

Crossing his arms over his chest in an unconscious gesture of self preservation, Kurt mulled the question over. “What about Madonna?”

“Love her,” Blaine admitted enthusiastically, “but I already own everything she's done.”

With that bit of knowledge, Kurt warmed slightly to the gorgeous boy in the absurd blazer and tie.

“Since you own Madonna's entire discography,” Kurt said while slipping from behind the check-out counter, “I think you might like Stacey Q.”

Kurt wandered off, obviously in search of something, and Blaine followed close behind. They almost collided when Kurt suddenly stopped. “Here's something I think you'll really like. Janet Jackson's new album is great, especially if you like that whole I'm-free-to-do-as-I-please kind of thing.”

Kurt plucked the album in question from the rack and handed it to Blaine, awaiting a response.

“I definitely like that whole I'm-free-to-do-as-I-please thing,” Blaine answered with a wide grin. He let his eyes linger over Kurt's frame, pointedly taking in Kurt's outfit: purple and gray plaid pants and a crisp white shirt with purple suspenders beneath a gray cardigan, the finishing touch a purple bow-tie streaked through with silver. “It looks likes you're into the whole freedom of expression thing too.” Blaine raised his eyebrows and gifted Kurt with a very appreciative smile.

Kurt was speechless and mortified to feel his cheeks growing warm.

“The pants are great,” Blaine continued. “And the trim on the sweater is sort of fantastic.”

“Made the pants myself,” Kurt said, trying hard to keep pride from seeping into his voice. “And I did the trim on the sweater, too.”

“Go out with me,” Blaine blurted, the words spilling out. “My friends are having a party on Friday night and I... I want you to go with me.”

Kurt's hand flew to cover his mouth as it dropped open in shock. He took a breath and then looked into Blaine's eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that there is a party happening on Friday night and I would really like it if you would come with me.”

Kurt stood very still, making a big show of examining the blaring red crest emblazoned on Blaine's jacket, and then he spoke very quietly.

“I get the feeling that your friends wouldn't really take to someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” Blaine asked just as softly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Kurt said, turning and making his way back to the cash register, “that you and your friends obviously have money and I work in a record store because my father doesn't make enough money to support the both of us on a part-time mechanic's salary. And on top of that, I tend to stick out in a crowd.” He gestured to his outfit in order to illustrate his point.

Walking slowly toward Kurt, Blaine said, “I like that you don't fit in.”

“You do?” Kurt said with a tiny smile.

“Yeah,” Blaine answered, slipping the Janet Jackson record across the counter. “So I'll take the record – and your phone number.”

“Blaine, there's something that we need to make clear. Do you mean that you want me to go this party with you as, like, your date?”

“Of course,” Blaine answered easily. “Do you really think I would buy a Neil Sedaka record if I wasn't trying to scope you out? I walked by the store, saw you, and just had to come in.”

Again Kurt was left speechless and he tried to squash down the tiny speck of elation threatening to bloom in his chest. “So you saw me and you just assumed that I was...?”

“More like hoped,” Blaine said with a grin.

“What kind of party is this going to be?” Kurt asked. “Because I need to figure out what I'm going to wear.”

“Is that a yes?”

Kurt rang up the sale, took Blaine's money and jotted his telephone number on the receipt.

“That's a yes, and I'll see you on Friday.”

As soon as Blaine had all but danced his way out of the door, Kurt pumped his fist in air.

“What's going on here?”

Kurt whipped around to find his boss staring at him with an unimpressed expression, her lips in a tight line.

Trying to wipe the grin of his face and failing, Kurt replied, “Nothing's going on, Sue.”

“Come on, Porcelain.” Kurt rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “You look like all the members of Duran Duran just paraded through the store shirtless. Something happened.”

“Well if you must know,” Kurt replied with a shrug, “I just got asked out on my very first date.”

“Outstanding,” Sue said dryly. “Now why don't you go celebrate by unpacking those boxes in the stock room?”

“Sure thing,” Kurt giggled and skipped past his boss. He happily sang “Hungry Like the Wolf” as he worked, thoughts of Blaine spinning in his mind.

---

The party was just as horrible as Kurt had thought it was going to be.

Kurt didn’t fit in at all with Blaine’s crowd. The tense time spent at the large house of one of Blaine's friends was filled with dodging drunken couples crowded in corners in various stages of undress and ducking the outright hostile slurs directed toward Kurt and his non-designer clothes.

“I'm really sorry about this,” Blaine said as they trudged toward Blaine's car.

“It's okay,” Kurt said with a shrug. “I expected it, you know.”

“I didn't,” Blaine said, “and I really am sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It's fine,” Kurt replied with a halfhearted attempt at a smile. “Why don't you drop me off at Trax and we'll just cut our losses.”

“No,” Blaine said as he opened the passenger door for Kurt. “The party was a bust, but that doesn't mean the night has to end. It's early. I like you and I want to spend some time with you.”

Blaine shut the door and ran around the front of the car, quickly jumping into the driver's seat. “So, where to?”

“I don't know,” Kurt said, still discouraged. “I really think you should just take me back to Trax.”

“No way. Please don't do that. There has to be somewhere we can go,” Blaine pleaded. “Listen, I really, really like you and I think that you might possible be able to eventually like me. Don't you want to at least find out if something’s here?”

“Okay,” Kurt answered, “I can't argue with you when you insist upon making sense.” He sighed and pointedly gazed at Blaine's outfit consisting of designer jeans and a form-fitting cream-colored sweater. “Besides, it would be a real shame to waste this chance to be with you when you're not wearing that dreadful uniform.”

“Dreadful?” Blaine laughed. “I happen to like that uniform. It’s distinguished.”

“Whatever,” Kurt said with a wave of his hand. “If you really would like to do something, I think we'd be safe going to a little place where my friends hang out. It's a club called Cats. There's live music and the bands are always decent, sometimes downright genius. And I swear no one would look at us twice if we felt like dancing together.”

“Sounds awesome,” Blaine said, flashing a bright grin.

Kurt felt his entire body tingle and he bit his lip to keep from smiling as Blaine pulled out of the parking space and shifted into drive.

---

The music hit them hard when they walked through the door. The crowd was thick and Kurt thought nothing of taking Blaine's hand in his own and pulling him through the teeming mass of people. He squealed in delight when he saw a group of his friends gathered at a large table.

“Hey guys!” Kurt screamed over the music. He pulled out a chair for Blaine before seating himself. “Everyone this is Blaine! Blaine, this is everyone!”

“Hi,” Blaine said, giving a little wave to the group. Not one of the people gathered gave Blaine much notice. They all seem absorbed in the band that was playing.

Blaine leaned over and placed his lips against Kurt's ear. “So do you want a drink?”

“Yes, please,” Kurt said, leaning back to speak directly into Blaine’s ear. “Just a Coke.”

“Coming up,” Blaine smiled and made his way through the crowd to get to the bar.

“So what do you think?” Kurt screamed to his best friend Mercedes. “Isn't he cute?”

“He's definitely cute,” Mercedes yelled back. “But I'm telling you right now that he isn't for you, sweetness.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

A brawny boy with a mohawk joined the conversation. “She means that Mr. Rogers over there isn't one of us. He's a richie and you know it.”

“Listen up, Puck,” Kurt sighed. “Us judging Blaine for having money is just as bad as people judging us for not having money.” He looked at every face around the table, the faces of his friends, silently begging them to make this easy for him. “Give him a chance. I really think Blaine’s different.”

“His name is Blaine?” Puck spat before taking a pull from his bottle of beer. “Blaine is the name of some middle-aged guy wearing an ascot on some yacht or something, not a dude in high school.”

“Stop being a jerk,” Kurt screamed over the rising thrum of the band.

A Latin brunette leaned into the fray. “Don't be pissed at us for reacting when you bring someone like that to our place.”

“Someone like what, Santana?”

“Never mind,” she said with an exasperated tone, taking Puck's hand and hauling him up from his chair. “Let's dance.”

Kurt was fuming as the pair walked away, but he held out hope that he would find at least one ally amongst the group. He turned toward a tall boy who had been silently watching everything unfold.

“What do you think, Finn?” Kurt asked.

“Haven't even spoken to him yet,” Finn shrugged. “But I am pretty shocked you would just show up with some guy. I mean, are you on a date or something?”

“Yes,” Kurt answered, his voice edged with anger. “Yes, we're on a date. Is there some sort of problem with that?”

Finn shrugged and Mercedes placed a gentle hand on Kurt's shoulder. “Just chill out, Kurt. No one is going to say anything to him or make him feel weird, okay? It's cool.”

“Good,” Kurt nodded. He crossed his arms and craned his neck to look for Blaine, who was fighting his way through the crowd with two glasses off soda held high above his head. He placed the drinks on the table and took his seat.

“Man, you were right about the band! I'm loving this music!” Blaine exclaimed. “I can see why you guys hang out here.”

“I'm glad,” Kurt replied with a sigh of relief. “I really like these guys.”

They sipped their sodas and listened to the music, occasionally remarking on a particularly good song. When Blaine began to sing along, Kurt couldn't help but praise Blaine's voice. The boys were surprised to learn that they were both singers. Blaine expounded on the glee club at his private school and Kurt gushed over his own glee club, many members of which happened to be seated at their table.

The night had taken a suddenly wonderful turn and Kurt was too absorbed to even notice Puck and Santana returning to the table. As soon as Puck fell into his seat, he looked long and hard at the interloper sitting next to him. “So, Blaine, that’s a nice sweater. Did your mother knit it for you?”

Blaine looked down at his sweater and laughed. “Yeah, kind of lame, huh?”

Kurt groaned and took Blaine's hand. “You look fantastic.” Then he looked at Puck like he wanted to kill him. “And you knock it off, Puck.”

“Pretty boy admits the sweater is lame, Hummel,” Puck sneered. “Relax.”

Blaine’s brow creased. “Why don’t we just talk about something else, Puck?”

Suddenly angry, Puck growled, “That's Noah to you, you stuck up prick.”

“Well, Noah, I think you're making Kurt uncomfortable,” Blaine warned.

Puck shrugged. “I’m not the one who brought a prissy preppy boy to our club.”

“Knock it off!” Kurt screamed, standing and pulling Blaine to his feet. “Thanks a lot, guys.” He looked at each of his friends with sharp accusation in his eyes. “Thanks for proving what a welcoming bunch of friends I have. We're leaving so you don't have to worry about us cramping your style.”

Kurt clung to Blaine as they shoved their way through to the door. The cool night air was a balm to Kurt's fevered state of mind. He took deep breaths as they walked to Blaine's car, too upset to notice the easy way Blaine was still cradling his hand.

“I'm so sorry,” Kurt mumbled once they were back on the road. His hands were in his lap and his head hung low. “I didn't think they'd ever...”

“It’s alright,” Blaine assured him.

“No it’s not,” Kurt said. “But school would be hell for me without those guys in there. They may not have demonstrated it tonight, but they all really have my back. You wouldn’t believe the way they stick up for me, no matter what it might cost them.”

“I get it,” Blaine said. “My old school was pretty rough for me, too. Sadly, I didn’t have a great bunch of friends to see me through. That’s why I ran to the safety of the hallowed halls of Dalton Academy.”

Kurt looked at Blaine with a sudden sense of camaraderie. He understood.

“Lucky for you, you had Dalton.”

“Yeah, lucky,” Blaine mused. “Lucky Dalton was there because I'm a coward, Kurt. If I didn't have Dalton to run away to, I would have wasted away in that hell.”

Kurt didn't know what to say. So he settled for a squeeze of Blaine's hand.

“Anyway,” Blaine continued, “Dalton is great, but I would have much rather have had friends and support.”

“Even if those friends completely ruined your first date?” Kurt asked, a weak attempt at lightening the mood.

“They weren’t so bad,” Blaine said with a falsely cheery tone. “And I got to spend time with you so it was great. Maybe next time we'll get the chance to dance.”

Kurt raised his head and looked at Blaine from the corner of his eye. “So you mean there might actually be a next time?”

“I'm sincerely hoping there will be a next time,” Blaine answered. He gripped the steering wheel with his left hand and enveloped Kurt's hand with his right. “I think we might have something here. It’s not going to be easy. In fact, I'm pretty sure that it will be pretty damn hard, but I don't want to give up.”

“I don't want to give up either,” Kurt replied, surprised at the way his heart was suddenly fluttering against his rib cage.

“Good,” Blaine said. “Now, where is home?”

“Oh,” Kurt said with a nervous intake of breath, “just drop me off at Trax.”

“You sure? I'd be happy to take you home.”

“No,” Kurt bit back a little too sharply. “I mean, um, my car is at Trax so...”

“Well let me follow you home, then. I just want to make sure you get there safely.”

Kurt tried to smile. “I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself,” Blaine replied with that damned dazzling smile, “but I'm a gentleman and I insist.”

“I appreciate that you're a gentleman,” Kurt replied, “but you really don't need to follow me home.”

“It's not a big deal,” Blaine said. “Besides, I was kind of hoping to be invited in for some coffee or something.” Kurt warmed to the slightly nervous lilt that trickled into Blaine’s voice. “I don't want to let you go just yet.”

Kurt took back his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked out the window and said, “I'm sorry, but the answer is no.”

“Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if...”

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong. You haven’t said anything wrong all night. Everything you’ve said has been pretty much perfect.”

“Okay,” Blaine replied quietly. “So what’s the problem?”

“Look, I don't want you to see where I live. Okay? Now drop it.”

The car became painfully silent and Kurt wished with his entire being that he could take back the last three minutes. He'd waited his entire life for someone like Blaine and he'd gone and messed it up completely by shutting down.

When Blaine spoke again, Kurt jumped.

“Kurt, if we're going to do this, we have to trust each other. I trust you. Do you trust me?”

Kurt answered without thinking. “Yes.”

Blaine nodded, satisfied, and then continued. “And if this is going to happen, you and me, then you’re going to have to let me in. I mean, have I given you a reason to think I’m doing this for any reason other than the fact that I think you’re amazing?”

“No,” Kurt admitted softly.

“Okay then. Where do you live?”

Still unsure, Kurt tentatively took Blaine's hand and gave him the directions to his house.

---

Blaine pulled into the driveway in front of Kurt's house and let the car idle.

“So this is it,” Kurt said simply. “It isn't much, but it's home.”

“It’s nice,” Blaine said. “Can I come in or is that too forward for the first date?”

Kurt’s heart thumped hard at the use of the word date, and he was genuinely sad that he had to turn Blaine down. “Not such a good idea. My father is probably sleeping and he has to get up early for work.”

“That's too bad,” Blaine said with genuine disappointment. “I'd like to meet him. Maybe next time?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, unable to stop the wide grin that stretched his lips. “Next time.”

A heavy silence fell, the moment fraught with tension, and they looked away from each other. Kurt reached for the door handle and said, “Well thanks for everything… and I’m sorry that the night was so terrible.”

“Are you kidding?” Blaine chided warmly. “It wasn’t terrible. I was with you. Doesn’t matter what we do, I’d have a great time as long as I’m with you.”

Blushing furiously, Kurt whispered, “Thank you,” and then opened the car door.

“Wait,” Blaine cried, reaching for Kurt's hand. “I, uh, need to ask you something.”

Kurt settled back in his seat and turned toward Blaine, anxious once again because of the desperation in Blaine’s voice. “What is it?”

“My school has this formal dance thing... kind of like a prom... and I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to go with me.”

Stunned into silence, Kurt could do nothing but stare into Blaine's eyes.

“I know it's a lot to ask, but I promise my school is really progressive and we'd be totally welcome. No weirdness, I swear.” Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand. “I realize prom is kind of lame so if you don't want to...”

Kurt cut off Blaine's nervous rambling by leaning over to claim his lips in a kiss. They were both shocked by the sudden intimate contact and the reaction in Blaine was immediate. His hands were suddenly at the back of Kurt's neck and his lips were hungry and searching, setting Kurt’s entire body on fire. Helpless against the new sensations that were sizzling along his nerves, Kurt could only clutch at Blaine and ride out the delicious rush flowing through him.

Every dream Kurt had ever had was coming true in the front seat of a black BMW and it was more perfect than anything he’d ever imagined. It was overwhelming, and he was trembling with emotion when he finally pulled back to catch his breath.

His voice shook as he slid from the car and whispered, “Call me.”

---

Kurt quietly closed his front door and then rested his back against it with a soft sigh of happiness.

“So, I take it things went well?” Kurt's dad, Burt, was sitting on the sofa in his bathrobe, a book forgotten in his lap.

“Dad!” Kurt exclaimed. “What are you doing up?”

Burt smiled. “Did you think I’d actually get any sleep with my only son out on his first date?”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.”

“I know,” Burt said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “but that doesn’t mean I stop caring about you. So are you going to tell me about it or not?”

“He’s amazing,” Kurt said dreamily as he walked to the couch and plopped down next to his father. “He has this way of speaking… he’s so proper. He loves the way I dress and he’s a singer, too. Not to mention that he’s beautiful. It’s like he walked right out of my dreams.”

Burt frowned, not liking the intensity in his son’s voice. “Was he a gentleman?”

“Of course,” Kurt answered with a swat to his father’s arm. “He asked me to his prom, Dad. His prom. That means something, right? And he looks at me like... like I'm something wonderful.”

“You are something wonderful,” Burt said. “So I guess this means you’re in love now, huh?”

“Yes,” Kurt said with a bold certainty that shocked them both. “Yes, I am.”

---

The next few weeks were a blur of phone calls that stretched late into the night and weekends spent holding hands and stealing kisses until it was time for Blaine to drop Kurt off at Trax for his evening shifts. There were days filled with nothing but long talks and nights out for lavish dinners, for which Blaine always insisted on paying. They studied together, went to movies, watched MTV and critiqued videos until they knew each other’s musical preferences inside and out.

When Blaine finally whispered to Kurt that he loved him it was easy and natural, and Kurt gave the words back to Blaine without hesitation.

The only blemish on the perfect surface of their relationship was that their friends were never invited into the tenuous sphere of warmth that they’d created for each other. It was an unspoken worry that lay heavy between them and they did their best to ignore it, choosing instead to keep their bliss intact by way of their silence.

---

“What are we doing here,” Kurt asked as he looked around the empty stables. “I feel like we’re going to get arrested or something.”

“Relax,” Blaine soothed while running his hand down Kurt’s back. “My family belongs to this country club and I’m entitled to visit the stables if I like. Besides, it’s ten o’clock at night. Who’s going to come looking for us here?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Kurt acquiesced, “but if we get busted, it’s all on you.”

Blaine laughed and tugged Kurt toward the area where neat rows of bundled hay were stacked. “Trust me, I come here all of the time. I love it.”

“It has a certain charm,” Kurt said as he eyed the empty stables. “So what do you like to do here?”

“Just think, mostly,” Blaine replied as he shook out a blanket he’d brought from home and arranged it neatly and on the clean, hay-covered, wooden floor. He sat down and rested his back against the bundles of hay, lifting his hand toward Kurt in invitation. “But since you’re here with me, I’m sure I can come up with a much more exciting activity.”

Kurt blushed to the roots of his hair and damned himself for having such a fair complexion. But he was confident as he took Blaine’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled down onto the blanket, a soft smile on his lips.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” Kurt said playfully as he settled in tight against his boyfriend.

“I don’t think you’re a girl at all,” Blaine replied, running his fingers down Kurt’s arm. “Anyone with biceps like these is most definitely nothing like a girl.”

Kurt wanted to chide Blaine for always knowing the perfect thing to say, but instead he wrapped his arm around Blaine’s waist and pulled him close. “So what kind of boy do you think I am?”

Blaine looked off into space, taking his time to formulate an answer. When he gave his reply, he kept his eyes purposely trained on the wall. “I think you’re the kind of boy that could make me fall in love for the first time.” He brought his gaze back to Kurt, warmth and sincerity flowing from him in waves. “Would you be okay with that?”

Looking playfully away, Kurt pretended to think about the question before gently kissing the man who owned his heart. “Of course, I'm okay with that,” Kurt whispered. “I'd have to be okay with that, wouldn't I? Considering that I'm already most definitely in love with you.”

The sudden heated look in Blaine's eyes had Kurt's entire body throbbing, every nerve thrumming with anticipation and when Blaine flattened a palm against Kurt's chest, Kurt forgot how to breathe.

“This belongs to me?” Blaine asked. “Your heart, I mean.”

“God yes,” Kurt whispered, his heart thumping hard and his breathing ragged. The situation had gone from flirtatious to fiery and deep but Kurt was helpless against it. He mindlessly repeated, “Yes.”

“That’s good,” Blaine said softly, “because I want this to happen. You and me. Us. This is going to happen and I don’t care what anyone else has to say about it.”

“They can all go to hell,” Kurt said breathlessly. The words were too sharp, too hard, but Kurt meant them. He believed in Blaine and trusted him with his entire heart. It was so easy to give himself over to the fervor that was slowly winding around them.

Blaine gave in too, pulling Kurt in tight and pressing their foreheads together. “All of them.”

“Every one of them,” Kurt agreed before spearing his fingers in Blaine’s hair and kissing him with ardor and strength. Blaine gave back even more than Kurt was giving, gripping Kurt's shoulders with force enough to bruise while his tongue plunged deep into the warmth of Kurt's mouth.

Kurt’s senses were flooded with Blaine, delicious smells and flavors and the feeling of silky hair sliding through his fingers. Nothing existed but the solid, warm body that was sealed to his and Kurt clung to that vibrant force with his entire being, quickly losing himself in the electric sensations coursing through his body.

It wasn’t long before Blaine’s mouth found the pounding pulse point in Kurt’s neck, eliciting beautiful moans from both of them. Kurt was trembling with desire and his body shook in the circle of Blaine’s arms.

“Are you okay?” Blaine whispered against the delicate shell of Kurt’s ear, not waiting for a response before running the tip of his tongue along the pale column of Kurt’s neck.

Kurt nodded absently in a feeble attempt to communicate that Blaine should absolutely not stop, and Blaine must have been satisfied with the response because he began to lick in earnest, dragging his tongue along Kurt’s neck before gently grazing his ear.

“Oh god,” Kurt whimpered disjointedly. “Blaine…”

“What?” Blaine breathed against the Kurt’s neck. “Too much?”

“No, no, no,” Kurt hissed, Blaine’s mouth sliding along his overly sensitive skin. “I just… You said no one comes in here, right? We won’t be…”

“We’re alone,” Blaine murmured, “I promise.”

“Then take your shirt off,” Kurt said softly. “I want to… to feel you.”

“I will if you will,” Blaine said softly as he pulled back and grasped the bottom hem of his sweater. The devilish smile that Kurt both feared and adored was suddenly playing on Blaine’s lips, a challenge shining bright in Blaine’s eyes.

“Okay,” Kurt said with a boldness that he didn’t really feel. With unsteady fingers he began to unbutton his shirt, moving slowly and deliberately. Once done with the row of buttons, he hesitated and looked to Blaine for encouragement.

Blaine was quick to assure him, using his hands to show Kurt there was no reason to be uncertain. He slowly slid the shirt down Kurt’s shoulders, pulled it down his arms, and then tossed it away, leaving Kurt’s chest completely exposed.

“Gorgeous,” Blaine said, looking at Kurt’s eyes and not the newly bared expanse of pale and beautiful skin. Kurt quickly looked away, blushing furiously. Blaine tugged his sweater off and grasped Kurt’s hand, bringing it slowly to his chest. “Touch me,” he whispered.

Kurt tentatively splayed his fingers against the warm expanse of Blaine’s chest, nervousness and desire warring within him. He let his fingertips swoop and swirl lightly in the hair dusting Blaine's chest, wondering at its texture, so wildly different from the smoothness of Kurt's chest.

Then Blaine moved gently forward and kissed Kurt again, softly and sweetly, all the while shifting until Kurt was on his back, splayed on the blanket once again. Blaine broke the kiss and hovered above him with heat in his eyes, like Kurt was something he wanted to devour. Any lingering doubts Kurt may have had were burnt away under the fire of Blaine's expression, Blaine's touch.

Twining his fingers in Blaine's curls, Kurt brought Blaine down for another searing kiss. Blaine could only groan and melt into Kurt, sealing their bodies together as their tongues tangled and their hands roamed. Kurt tilted his neck, dying for more of Blaine's mouth on his neck, his tongue tracing over his skin. Without a beat, Blaine's mouth was trailing over Kurt's neck and down toward his ear.

“Do you like this?” Blaine whispered before licking a long, heated stripe along Kurt's neck. “Does this feel good?”

“Yes,” Kurt whimpered. “I... I...”

“Shhh,” Blaine soothed. “It's okay. I've got you.”

Blaine spent what felt like hours licking and sucking the sensitive skin until Kurt was writhing beneath him, their erections growing into hard and obvious ridges between them. Any thoughts of slowing or backing down were lost as their bodies moved naturally together, their cocks sliding against each other and creating bright sparks of pleasure to burst between them. Kurt's hips rocked in tight circles, his thighs squeezing around Blaine's body as he edged closer to exploding with the pleasure of it all. It was better than anything Kurt had ever experienced in his entire life and he never wanted to it stop.

So when Blaine slid down his body, Kurt's first reaction was to whimper at the loss of sensation, the loss of heat, the loss of Blaine.

But then Blaine was scrambling to remove Kurt's belt and all Kurt could think was, Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Can I, Kurt?” Blaine was whispering, his lips hovering over Kurt's now open fly.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists, then he shook his head in the affirmative.

He was crossing an important threshold, and Blaine was carrying him over. Kurt opened his eyes and licked his lips. His entire being was on edge with anticipation and fear, excitement and wonder, and when Blaine finally freed his erection, Kurt felt as if his entire body had been set on fire. Blaine's fingertips holding him were entirely too much and nowhere near enough. His hips jumped upward of their own volition and Blaine smiled wickedly.

“Eager,” Blaine remarked darkly. “I like it.”

Before Kurt could formulate a comeback, Blaine was dragging his tongue along the underside of Kurt's dick with messy and wet abandon. Kurt cried out, his voice ringing clear through the wooden rafters. Blaine smiled against the swelling cock in his hand and then sealed his lips around the leaking tip. Kurt reared up and Blaine was forced to grip Kurt's hip to still him.

“Sorry,” Kurt whined as he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on not thrusting into the waiting heat of Blaine's mouth.

Blaine simply concentrated on the task at hand, bobbing his head slowly and steadily, sucking in an easy rhythm. Kurt's toes curled and his head was thrown back under the onslaught of Blaine's perfect ministrations. Each flick of Blaine's expert tongue took Kurt higher, each full circuit of Blaine's mouth along the length of his dick took Kurt closer to the inevitable edge.

“Blaine... I'm... Blaine...”

Blaine linked his hand with Kurt's, all the signal he could give that Kurt was free to let go. So Kurt did, giving himself over to Blaine and to pleasure and to freedom. He shattered apart, flying in a million different directions, flying off the edge into the abyss of his climax.

And when he floated back to earth, Blaine was there to catch him.

“You okay?” Blaine asked with a voice like sandpaper, his arms tight around Kurt's waist.

“Yeah,” Kurt croaked. “That was...” Kurt turned his head and lifted shining eyes to Blaine. “What... what can I do?”

Blaine guided Kurt's hand to his throbbing cock. “Just touch me, Kurt...”

And Kurt did.

---

That's when the phone calls ended. Blaine wouldn't answer Kurt's calls and Kurt's phone never rang. No more visits to Trax. No more afternoons.

He should have known that they were too different, that their worlds should never have collided.

After his hopes burned to ash, a cold certainty crashed into Kurt: He was a part of Blaine's past.

---

“So what do you think, Dad?” Kurt spun around in his hand-made creation. A smart black sport coat with silver embellishments, a shimmery pink vest and slim-ftting pants that molded to his frame. The finishing touch was a silver bolo tie in lieu of the standard bow tie.

“Wow,” Burt said, shaking his head. “You've done it again. I wonder where you get your talent from because is sure as heck wasn't from me.”

“I get a lot from you, Dad,” Kurt admonished, taking another spin. “So... I did good?”

“You did fabulous,” Burt said with pride. “Your guy is going to drop dead when he sees you.”

“No he won't,” Kurt said softly.

“Are you kidding me? Of course he is!”

“No,” Kurt said. “He won't because he isn't coming.”

“I don't understand...”

“I'm going to my own prom, Dad. With my friends. I just had to prove to myself that he didn't break me.”

---

He danced with Mercedes. He danced with Finn. Even Santana dragged him onto the floor for a spicy Latin tango.

He laughed and chatted and sipped the spiked punch that Puck kept him supplied with.

But he wasn't having fun.

His eyes traveled the room, soaking in the passionate embraces and sly kisses and Kurt could feel nothing but pain.

He turned away from one overly amorous couple to find Blaine standing in the doorway. Their eyes locked and Kurt's heart stopped. Blaine was as painfully gorgeous as ever, in a sleek tuxedo that did everything for his frame.

Damn it, it hurt so bad. Kurt wanted to run, but he couldn't make himself stand up from the table.

Blaine walked woodenly to Kurt's table and took a seat. All of Kurt's friends quietly left.

“What are you doing here?” Kurt demanded, his arms over his chest like a shield. “How dare you...?”

“Listen,” Blaine said, raising his palm. “Just listen.”

Kurt nodded once and then looked down at the table.

“I told you I was a coward,” Blaine began. “I told you that on our very first date. And what we had... what we have, what we have Kurt, was too real. It was too much. I got scared and I ran and I am more sorry than you'll ever know.”

“What do we have?” Kurt asked bitterly.

“We are in love,” Blaine said simply. “That's what we have.”

“You hurt me.”

“And that kills me, Kurt. I'm sorry.”

“How can I trust you?”

“I don't know. What can I do?”

“Prove you're not afraid anymore.”

“How do I do that?”

“Figure it out,” Kurt hissed and then shoved away from the table. He shot for the door, but Blaine was fast and grabbed him by the arm before he could escape.

“Dance with me,” Blaine said. “Right here, right now.”

“What will that prove?” Kurt asked, trying to tug his arm out of Blaine's grip. People were starting to look and all the Kurt wanted was to get away.

“It'll prove that I'm not afraid to show your friends, your entire school, that I love you.”

“You didn't believe in me,” Kurt said, sagging against Blaine's frame. “You didn't believe.”

“I always believed in you,” Blaine whispered. “I just didn't believe in me.”

Kurt could see the pain in Blaine's eyes and knew that Blaine was speaking the truth. All he could do was wrap his arms around Blaine and give him a reason to believe.

So there, at his high school prom, Blaine kissed the man who would prove to be the love of his life.

Somewhere in the distance, his friends cheered.