The rain comes at the start of the second inning with the sun low in the sky, falling quick and heavy. Kurt's on the mound, barely even warmed up from the inning before, when the rain starts. It hits his skin and clings to the bill of his hat, drops into his eyes and onto his cheeks. He runs his hand across his cap, gathering the droplets that are falling, and tries to wipe it off on the side of his jersey. It's no use, though. His entire uniform is soaked through.

He rolls the baseball around in his hand, tries to get a grip even though his hands are soaking wet. He moves his index and middle finger together over the ball, stretches them across the red stitching in an attempt to form a grip for his fastball, but it's useless. It doesn't feel right, the ball slipping in his hands, and he moves his fingers around again, finally settling on a change-up.

He nods in at Blaine, bends at the waist and kicks his leg back, launching the ball at the batter. He can barely see where he's aiming the ball, rain hitting him in the face, and he can feel immediately that the ball slips leaving his hand. Blaine has to throw his body far to the right, falling to his knees and stretching out completely in order to even catch the ball. On the mound, Kurt throws his hands up in frustration.

Blaine stands up, shouting "time!" at the home plate umpire standing behind him. He jogs out to the pitcher's mound, rain sliding off his hard plastic helmet. "That bad?" He asks when he meets Kurt.

"I can't grip the ball at all, it's soaked. Never mind when a ball gets hit to the outfield. They'll be slipping everywhere," Kurt tells him. He puts his glove up in front of his mouth on instinct, his words muffled. He digs his spikes into the rust colored dirt.

"I'll see if I can get him to call it," Blaine says, nodding to the umpire behind home. He grabs at Kurt's shoulder, squeezing tight, before making his way back. Kurt sees him take off his face mask, placing it on the top of his helmet and talking to the umpire. It's quick and ends with a smile on both of their faces.

The home plate umpire calls time and it only takes a few seconds of conferring with the other umpires to announce that the game's going into a rain delay. Kurt darts off the field, feet skipping over the chalk white foul lines, and into the dugout. Blaine's close behind him, making his way into the dugout and removing his soaked gear, chest protecter falling heavily to the ground.

"Do you think they'll call it?" Kurt asks, sitting on the bench and watching as the rain turns the infield dirt into mud. Blaine's next to him, bent down and unclipping the shin protectors strapped to his legs.

"If it doesn't stop soon," Blaine answers. He grabs a thin white towel that's hanging behind them and throws it over Kurt's shoulders, rubbing the towel high on Kurt's arms. It's useless, Kurt's soaked through, but Blaine's hands are warm and relaxing, almost massaging Kurt's shoulders.

Kurt's eyes are on the field, watching as the rain forms puddles in the outfield grass. It's eerily silent. All of the fans have left the metal bleachers in search of somewhere dry, hiding in their cars or in the small snack stand. There's no cheering, no children shouting, no one calling out 'good eye' or 'nice play'. Even his teammates are quiet, lost in their own thoughts as the rain falls against the wooden roof of the dugout. But, that's the thing about rain. It puts everything into a haze. Nothing moves and it's like the park stops dead in its tracks, as if someone pushed a pause button.

Blaine throws his gear into a bag and sits down next to Kurt. He kicks their feet together, the spikes on their cleats getting caught. Kurt wants to lean over and kiss him, taste the water that's stuck to Blaine's lower lip. Blaine catches him staring and smiles, bumps their shoulders together and whispers in Kurt's ear, "later".

Before Kurt has time to blush, one of the umpires sticks his head in the dugout and tells them, "go home, boys. Game's canceled."

"Let me drive!" Blaine calls out as they run through the rain drops falling in the parking lot, the spikes on the bottom of their shoes digging into the mud and kicking it up behind them. Kurt throws open the passenger door and slides in, his uniform sticking to the fake leather seats. He tosses his keys to Blaine who catches them one handed and starts the car. Blaine turns the windshield wipers on quickly but they're junk, just like the rest of the car, smudging the water on the glass instead of clearing it off.

The rain starts to come down heavier as they leave the field and Blaine leans closer to the
windshield to see. When he misses the turn to their house Kurt assumes it's on accident.

"I can't really see, but I think that was our road," Kurt says, eyes squinting and looking out of the window to try and gauge where there are. He recognizes the small gas station and the pharmacy. They drive a little further, past the elementary school where Kurt's summer job is, teaching the young boys and girls of Cotuit the basics of baseball. They keep driving, Blaine giving Kurt no hints as to where they're going. It doesn't take long before they drive down a narrow street and Kurt immediately recognizes the sand dunes lining the road.

"Why are we at the beach?" Kurt asks and quirks an unimpressed eyebrow at Blaine. He wants to go home, get out of his wet uniform and take a warm shower.

"Just follow me," Blaine says and then he's out of the car quickly, running across the parking lot and up towards the sand.

"Are you crazy?" Kurt shouts, but there's no way Blaine can hear him over the sound of the rain and the crashing waves. Kurt almost stays in the car where it's warm and dry, trying to tune in the radio while he waits for Blaine to come back. But then he sees Blaine on the beach, uniform clinging to his body and his arms stretched out wide, face looking up through the rain drops.

Before he can re-think it, Kurt is opening the door and making a mad dash to Blaine, running up the wooden boardwalk and out on to the beach. Blaine spins around to him, arms still open wide, and his smile is the most beautiful thing Kurt has ever seen.

Kurt slams into him, chests and knees pressed together. He throws his arms around Blaine and doesn't even care about the rain falling down on them. He just presses himself closer, sucks up all of Blaine's body heat.

The beach is empty, the storm clearing out any of the left over tourists. Kurt feels like a little kid, caught outside in a rainstorm and jumping in puddles. He pulls Blaine down into the sand, falling onto their knees first and then laying down on their sides. Kurt holds on to Blaine's hips and he can feel it when Blaine's whole body shakes with laughter.

"You're amazing," Blaine says, still smiling.

"And you're ridiculous. I can't believe I'm out in the rain, laying in wet sand, because of you." And Kurt will never admit it, but there's no where he'd rather be.

They kiss for what feels like forever, tangled together on the beach, wet sand sticking to every inch of exposed skin and ruining their home whites. They open their mouths wide, lips lined up and noses bumping together. Blaine kisses Kurt slowly, like they have all the time in the world. He takes his time, doesn't want to rush this perfect moment, just the two of them together, miles of sand stretching out on both sides.

Kurt doesn't know how long they lay there for. He loses track of time while they kiss, taking breaks to catch their breath and talk. They kiss until the rain stops and the clouds part, bits of the sunset filtering through. Blaine stands first and offers a hand down to Kurt, helping him up. Kurt tries to take his hand away from Blaine's, needing to brush off the sand that covers him, but Blaine holds tight. He links their fingers together and they walk in step across the beach.

When they get down to the parking lot, Blaine lets go of Kurt's hand to get into the driver's seat and Kurt catches the back of Blaine's uniform, 'Anderson' sewn in a curve across his back. Kurt smiles as he gets into the car, reaching out for Blaine's hand and finding it, and thinks that Blaine's name might as well be stitched across his heart.