The first time they meet, it’s during the hottest day of the year.  The entire camp is under a heat advisory, so there have been many indoor activities, as well as a lot of bunk time, and designated half hour slots for each age group to use the pool.  Sprinklers are set up all around the campgrounds, and there are ice water and popsicle stations in both the girls’ area and boys’ area, as well as the dining hall.

            Blaine’s bunk, B4, is having its turn in the pool when Blaine spies a very fine ass in white jean shorts bending down to pick up some popsicle wrappers that littered the ground around the water/popsicle table.  His eye trace down past the two perfect globes to the long, pale legs, clearly slathered in sunscreen.  He rakes his eyes back up and finds the lean, slightly muscular torso twisting around, Blaine’s eyes blocked from meeting the mystery boy’s due to his sunglasses.

            But then mystery boy is pushing the sunglasses up over his eyes and squinting at Blaine, at first giving him a tentative smile, and then a devious smirk when he realizes why Blaine is staring at him.

            Blaine spends the rest of the pool time making sure his groin is covered by the water, or a towel, or anything; his dick remains at least half hard due to mystery boy’s intentionally deep bends and subtle booty pops.

            The second time they meet, it’s a clear summer night.  Blaine is in the infirmary with a camper who was stung by a bee while on camp out, when mystery boy himself appears from the back of the office to take care of it.  He smiles at Blaine innocently, but his eyes sparkle with recognition.

            “Hey little guy,” he says to the camper, dragging his eyes away from Blaine to attend to the bee-stung boy.  “Let me take a look at that.”

            Blaine watches him carefully tend to the sting, cleaning it and soothing it with some creams before placing a band aid over it and giving the boy a pill—Blaine didn’t know that there was any medication to help with bee stings, but as he was mostly just staring at mystery boy’s lips the whole time, he almost didn’t notice it happening.

            “Thanks, Kurt!” his camper exclaims, much more chipper than he had been when Blaine had to carry his crying form there.  He tugs on Blaine’s arm viciously.  “C’monnn, I wanna go back to camp out!”

            Mystery boy—Kurt, his mind helpfully supplies—smiles at him sweetly.

            “You better get going, Blaine.  Don’t want to miss the s’mores.”  Blaine splutters a bit in surprise that Kurt knows his name and flat out stares in shock when Kurt gives him a wink and a slightly too long pat on the shoulder, his fingers brushing Blaine’s skin in a lick of fire.

            “Blaine, seriously?  You can flirt later!  I wanna go back!” the camper whines, causing Blaine to blush and hurry after him, barely glancing at Kurt again.

            Blaine ends up skipping out on the s’mores, his thoughts too preoccupied with bright blue eyes, soft, pale skin and flirty smiles.

            The first time they kiss is during a thunderstorm.  Blaine’s bunk is closest to the pool, and he glances out the window after a particularly startling crack of thunder, watching as the rain begins to pour harder than ever.  On a whim, he spares a glance at the pool, and sees Kurt trying to collect papers that have flown all over the area.

            With a quick shout to his co-counselor, Blaine states that he’s going out to help someone and if he doesn’t come back, he’s safe and will return in the morning, Blaine sprints out into the storm, heading for the pool.  He doesn’t even think about the fact that he didn’t remember to put shoes on until he’s sliding towards Kurt and crashes into him, sending them both down into the mud.

            “What the fuck?” Kurt screams over the roaring sound of rain and thunder.  He grips Blaine’s biceps, staring up at him with confusion and amusement.

            “I saw you out in the storm, and I wanted to come help!  You shouldn’t be out here!”  Blaine shouts back, finally having the sense to hoist himself up and off of Kurt—solid, smooth, sexy Kurt—reaching a hand down to help pull Kurt up too.  Kurt grabs his forearm and swings up, clutching Blaine’s waist to steady himself.

            Face-to-face in the torrential rain, Blaine can do nothing but gaze at Kurt, mesmerized by his eyes, his lips, his cheekbones, wanting to study it all with his lips, memorize it over and over again.

            Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long; Kurt leans in, pressing their wet lips together briefly before pulling back, grinning like an idiot.  Blaine knows he must have a similar dumbstruck expression on his face, because soon Kurt is cracking up, and then so is he, and they’re laughing and kissing and shivering until one of them has the bright idea to take shelter in the changing rooms by the pools, which are fortunately stocked with towels and chairs with pillows.

            After unselfconsciously stripping down and wrapping a towel around his waist—and Blaine did not stare, that would have been rude and ungentlemanly and he most definitely did not—Kurt builds them a makeshift pillow fort, giving Blaine time to strip and dry off a bit more discreetly, although he may have “accidentally” let his towel slip below his ass a few times.

            He settles in next to Kurt in their pillow bed, covering them with a blanket of towels and kissing him sweetly on the nose.  Kurt pulls him in for more, and they make out to a soundtrack of thunder and heavy rain before slowly falling asleep in each other’s arms, lightning from the storm lighting up their peaceful faces.