He's been doing plenty of smiling today though, and Blaine doesn't even dare hope for a second that it's because of him. He doesn't have to, because Kurt had practically danced out to his car, parked in the Hummel-Hudson driveway, and whispered hot and heavy against the shell of Blaine's ear that�leaving New York was worth it to come home to you.
Even without�that�to cement his beliefs, though, Blaine knows that Kurt's pretty much the best boyfriend in existence, considering that he's given up a shopping trip with Tina and Mike to walk hand in hand with Blaine through a theme park in the scorching Ohio heat. Their fingers are pressed tightly together and Kurt doesn't say anything about the fact that his palms are slick with due to the weather and nervousness and his veins are thrumming against Kurt's own hand because even if they haven't said it, this is their first date since –- since the beginning of the end, or maybe the end of the beginning really, because to Blaine yesterday's�I love yous�rang loud and sharp like music; he's replayed it�at least�a hundred times in his head, since then, picking the way Kurt's lips quirked upwards, the way Kurt's eyes became suddenly unreadable because they projected too many things at once, the way Kurt's whole body shuddered into gear as he responded and marvelled at how all these little things became, somehow, bigger than�everything.
Blaine doesn't know how he's made it this far without bringing it up, in all honesty, because he still feels like he can't contain the love that came spilling out of him. But 'sorry for almost ruining your oesophagus with my bad timing' is vaguely pornographic in a way only he can make it because there's so many things he wants to say (and not say, just moan and grunt and�oh, Kurt) this summer and he'd possibly been fixating, just a little, while Kurt was in New York and only accessible in his dreams�and�it's a truly awkward conversational starter to boot.
They're an hour early to the park because Kurt refuses to subscribe to Rachel Berry's notion that a true star is fashionably late and because Blaine had�really�wanted to give Kurt a tour, first. Should he get the job, he figures Kurt's going to be spending at least a little bit of time here, and last time he'd performed he hadn't exactly been looking for spots secluded enough to do a little pre-performance making out. Just, you know, for good luck or whatever (even if Kurt would kill him for saying anything other than�break a leg). It's busy already, but it had been easy enough for Blaine to slip his hand into Kurt's and make their way through the crowds gathering around the food stands and at the base of every ride. He likes the hustle and bustle of the people, the roaring sound of the roller coasters as they shoot up and around over his head, the reminder that Ohio, for all its faults, is made up of people who can still enjoy at leastsomeof the same things as him.
He's�got�to find that guy who makes balloon animals by the end of the day, even if he's not entirely sure that Kurt will appreciate a bright purple giraffe as a present.
"This place is�amazing,"�Blaine gushes, as they pass the teacup ride, winding their way through the throngs of beaming parents. "It's –- really run-down, actually, and I'd probably get paid more busking at the Lima Bean or singing at Johnny Rockets, but I'm kind of a masochist when it comes to nostalgia, you know."
"I would get�way�too much grease in my pores to visit you at Johnny Rockets, Blaine. At least I managed to score myself some new sunscreen to wear here, based on the fact that it's SPF 30 and I promised Carole that I'd make Finn wear it whenever he goes swimming with the guys. She even paid for my Chapstick, although I think she may have been a little distracted by the sheer force of her own giddiness after I accidentally let it slip that Rachel's at some musical theatre camp in Chicago for the first three weeks after school lets out." Kurt rolls his eyes fondly and Blaine grins, wondering, just for a second, what it would take to convince Finn to invite him and Kurt swimming, too.
"Besides, it's not really considered nostalgia until you've long grown out of it, Blaine. You jump on furniture not because it's a childhood fantasy you're relieving from your childhood but because you've got the energy of an over-excited golden retriever and I had to wear a scarf to work in the garage for a�week�last time you decided to try and release some of it by kissing me."
"You enjoyed that, don't deny it. I even brought you a new scarf to make up for it." Blaine says, nodding half-heartedly, still distracted by the thought of Kurt in –- very little clothing, actually, although he does also quite like the reminder of all the kissing they've been doing.
Kurt just smirks at him as though he knows what Blaine's thinking, even as the full intensity of it is lost on Blaine when his boyfriend whips around just as quickly to glare at someone who trod on his beloved Doc Martens, muttering about�boat shoes and socks, seriously?�"And as much as you try to convince me otherwise, the fact that you invited me out to Dalton to help you with your new song and instead, we ended up watching�Tangled�with Nick and Jeff suggests either childlike wonder at the world or you projecting your need to be Prince Charming onto Flynn Rider."
"You have much nicer hair than Rapunzel, especially since we'd waste all our making out time fixing it up if yours was anything like hers," Blaine replies, smiling fondly and resisting the urge to just reach out and�touch.�Kurt's not even the one auditioning today and he'd spent longer picking an outfit that was appropriate for the ninety degree heat and yet still didn't give into it, all at the same time. He's still not sure how the shop girls at the mall deal with Kurt or, in all honesty, how he deals with�them.
"And you enjoyed it even more than you would liked listening to me sing The Rolling Stones on repeat," he adds, even though he suspects that much of Kurt's enjoyment came from the fact that they spent half the movie cuddling on Jeff's bed, Blaine's head in Kurt's lap with Kurt's fingers carding through his hair, and that neither Nick nor Jeff said a single thing. He doesn't mention it because he knows that Kurt gets defensive about these things, and because it feels like there's an arrow pressing deep inside his chest, jammed tightly against his ribcage every time he thinks about their future together and how it means so much more simply because they've got just�that,�a future too many people think they shouldn't have. The only thing that stops him wanting that future with every fibre of his being is when these moments with Kurt leave him wishing he could find a way to anchor himself to the present.
Blaine's breath still hitches somewhere between his chest and his throat every time he even�thinks�about kissing Kurt, because they've got so much more to look forward to, but the prejudice that brought them together could have also meant that they had much, much less. With the back of his arm, he wipes away the sheen of perspiration that settles across him at the thought of losing�this,�or having never found it in the first place.
"That I did," Kurt says. "It's much better than the time Nick coerced me into a�Top Gear�marathon in exchange for help getting used to the calculus curriculum. And I actually like�Top Gear,so –-"
"It was the bit where he talks through the entire thing and ignores the fact that you're torn between drooling over the cars themselves and Richard Hammond, isn't it?"
"It's like Dalton reprogrammed its students to never shut up unless you were singing. And even�then�some of them couldn't resist staring at you like you were Angelina Jolie in the metaphorical desert," Kurt smirks in response. "But yes, you know me too well."
"Only because you let me," Blaine replies, with a cheesy wink. It ruins any pretence of romanticism he'd ever considered, but he feels Kurt's hand clench tighter in his in response, their hips bumping together as they press a little closer than necessary to squeeze through the crowd of teenagers wanting corn-dogs. There's a rolling tension in his shoulders that he doesn't notice anymore because it doesn't really ever go away, but Kurt's hand is still firm in his, the very thing that makes them a threat making him stronger, too. No one seems to have anything to say about how�obvious�they are, and it's just another reason for Blaine to love roller coasters and other theme park distractions.
Blaine glances at his watch as they emerge from a group of pre-teens wailing about height restrictions. He can almost sense Kurt straining with the effort not to make a joke; he'd accept with poise anyway, because they've gotten to a point where he just stretches up on his toes, letting Kurt gather his face and turn it upwards as he presses into the kiss until it's not a joke but still makes his stomach bubble that's a little like laughter but�hotter,�he supposes. "We've still got fifteen minutes, and the auditions are in that building just there. Maybe we should go inside? I need to practice."
It's funny that a theme park Kurt hasn't been to since he was eight and Blaine hasn't performed at since he was fourteen and hovering on the precipice of actually being�gay�instead of just not wanting to make out with Sophie Winkler at Todd's birthday party that spring makes him�less�nostalgic than a memory from a choir room, not quite three months ago.
They settle themselves on two hard-backed, plastic chairs inside, letting the cool air sink into their skin. Blaine fumbles around his backpack for his sheet music, laughing at Kurt's scathing –- but dead accurate, that girl's dress makes him think that Barney had a love child with Big Bird, or something – commentary. After staring at each other for what felt simultaneously like forever and no time at all, they'd left the Lima Bean with an entirely unsubtle wink in Mercedes direction and decided that Blaine should sing�Kiss the Girl.
It's an odd choice, but Six Flags seems to like playing up the kitsch and nostalgia factors in its performances (forced renditions of the Beach Boys aside, and that awkward time he'd had to sing�Summer Nights�with a girl who'd cottoned onto the fact that he'd mainly watched�Grease�for Kenickie), and Disney might just be the perfect fit.
It's also not actually what he's going to be singing, but he's not ready to share that with Kurt. He hums the opening few bars anyway, tapping his fingers against his thigh to try and find the perfect beat. After a second Kurt, who's been spluttering in indignation about the fact that Blaine's going to be spending two days a week this summer in polyester-blend and�do not expect me to have dinner with you after the shows if you're going to be wearing that in this weather,�curls his hand over Blaine's, searching for the rhythm with him.
They've been holding hands all day, and Blaine likes that it's so much more intimate now that Kurt's gotten all he ever wanted in a relationship and more; now that they've got a future and they're able to go back to the beginning, all over again. After wandering around the park all morning and remembering performing here, three summers ago before things got so�serious,�Blaine wonders if there's a point in your life where nostalgia ends, and you can just look forward.
There's got to be; he thinks he and Kurt have�almost�reached it. New York is a big transition for them, in more ways than just the obvious. And, after years of being slammed headfirst against the pavement and into the present, he kind of likes this feeling of teetering on the edge of something�beautiful.
Fuck; he's turned into –- he's not sure if there's a name for it, not really, but he doesn't regret it. He's happy to spend his entire life thinking in flowery, Mills and Boons type metaphors if it comes with the added bonuses of feeling like his heart's too big for his chest and seeing Kurt smile.
"Is it wrong that I don't want to talk about yesterday?" Kurt asks finally, lightly resting his hand on Blaine's thigh as their fingers separate. "I mean, I know we�should,�because metaphorically, it was a�really�big step and all, but literally –-"
"It just felt natural?"
"No –- well,�yes,�but I just don't want to ruin the moment by talking, I think." Kurt picks at a thread on his jeans that Blaine knows probably doesn't exist, really. "I know that actually talking about stuff has kind of become a�thing�in our relationship, as most of New Directions tend to point out only when their own relationships are failing, but –-"
Blaine raises an eyebrow. "So you're telling me that they recognise the strength of our relationship, and yet they fail to take your advice on board, because they'd rather substitute it for their own?" He shifts, trying to make himself comfortable in the ridiculous chairs and sighs, a little loud. A girl a few rows over glances balefully at him just as they call number twenty-seven through the doors, and he picks his sheet music up from the chair beside him, absentmindedly flipping through the pages. Kurt will be able to watch from the side doors of the audition room; he'd been forced to confirm this with Jesse St James, of all things (apparently show choir consultancy isn't the�only�career not working out for him, these days), and his stomach flips slightly at the thought of doing this.
It's enough to make the notes blur in front of his eyes for a few seconds, until he realises Kurt is saying something to him. It's funny really, that he's got more stage fright now than all those times before, when he hadn't known that Kurt loved him, that he'd have a support system in his boyfriend –- then friend turned duet partner turned most amazing thing in Blaine's existence in a single day –- if he just so happened to fuck it up.
"To be fair, Mike and Tina�have�been dating since Asian Camp this time last year. A camp that Wes is apparently a counsellor at, and they assure me that he's just as much a robot as he is at Dalton, as long as you don't let him within three feet of the s'mores." Kurt snorts disdainfully. "As for the rest of them, though…"
" I suppose I can kind of understand where Finn was coming from, given how hard I had to fight the urge to kiss you during�Candles," Blaine replies, whistling low and sharp until Kurt elbows him, laughing. "It would have made our break-up song a little less emotionally poignant, but all the Warblers knew it for the fa�ade it was, anyway."
"Raise Your Glass," Kurt says quietly, after a moment's contemplation, and Blaine blinks confusedly at him. "I think it was the bit where you made that face when you were singing about being a 'dirty little freak' and all I could think was that I had to introduce you to my dad as Blaine Anderson, the boy who does Lady Gaga about as well as Thai flea markets do Gucci and who now happens to be my boyfriend. I sort of got fixated on the boyfriend bit, and –-"
"As much as I would have enjoyed it, Wes' reaction to you single-handedly destroying the entire Warblers formation to get to me would probably be scarier than anything your glee club could dream up after coming twelfth at a competition we didn't even make it to. And that's without even dealing with how obviously terrified Sam and Mercedes were to reveal their relationship yesterday to the point where they're hiding it from you." Blaine wants to smack his head into the chair in front of him the minute he says it, wishing he could backtrack because he�knows�it must sting for Kurt.
"Hey, it's not like that," Kurt says. He keeps his face so well masked that Blaine can't quite tell if he's actually okay with it or not. But he's learning; Kurt's got a myriad of facial expressions and yesterday alone, Blaine added at least five more to the list of ones he'll do anything to see again. If it takes him a little longer to understand all of them, that's okay, because he's pretty sure they've got a lot of time for exactly that. Kurt Hummel gets exactly what he wants, and if what he wants is Blaine, Blaine is all too willing to oblige.
"She'll tell me in her own time, and to be fair –- I hid the fact that we'd decided to date for a week because I wanted the moment to be just right, not just a text in the middle of trying to write a song for Regionals or burying a dead bird."
"I think Pavarotti would have been pleased if you'd announced our relationship via Twitter in a shout out to his memory." Kurt looks confused, and Blaine adds, grinning widely, "Tweet, tweet."
He's rewarded with a thump on the back from Kurt, who rolls his eyes. Somewhere between Valentine's Day and now, Blaine's clearly learnt to read subtext, because even he knows that's Kurt code for�I don't even know what to do with you�and�it's adorable that you think you're funny.�What can he say? Nerves make him do stupid things –- even when the nerves don't come from the fact that he's about to audition for a job he really needs if he wants to make New York a reality instead of a dream and instead from the fact that they're actually�talking about this.
"But seriously," Blaine says, fighting hard to control his voice. "I get it. It's nice, you know, to think that after you had the guts to stand there on Valentines' Day and be so… open and honest with me, and that after the four really, really�long�conversations we had about my extremely overwrought sexuality crisis, we've got something that doesn't really need words, because we know it anyway."
Blaine knows he's got the best boyfriend in the world from the way Kurt's entire face shifts into a smile in a single second, and he can't help but add: "I'm crazy about you, and I love you, and something tells me that's the biggest conversation in the world. Not to mention that it's easily condensed into text message form, so I can tell you a million times a day if I want to."
The corners of Kurt's lips quirk even further upward, a feat Blaine hadn't thought possible. "Much in the same way you used to text me motivational messages I happen to�know�you ripped off Voltaire about twenty times a day before I transferred to Dalton?"
Blaine shrugs nonchalantly. "It worked, didn't it? Have you tried giving that advice to the rest of your glee club?"
"Yes, Blaine, I've encouraged them to text each other epithets that say 'courage' but really just mean 'I'm repressed and can't admit that I really want to kiss you'. Even if I'm fairly certain that only works coming from you, and the only person who needs a Blaine and the Pips style intervention is Rachel, but Finn's my stepbrother and I really don't want to imagine –-" Kurt sighs suddenly, his shoulders rolling sharply upwards, and Blaine wraps an arm around his boyfriend's waist, clutching at the back of Kurt's cardigan and ignoring the furrowed brow of a passerby, who is probably competition more than prejudiced, given the way her eyes are drawn to the sheet music which he's laid back down on top of his backpack.
Right. He's here for an audition; looking around at the board outside the door, Blaine notices they've already called number twenty-eight, meaning he's next. He shifts away from Kurt, standing up to straighten out his button down -– an outfit approved by Kurt during a Skype conversation that had segued into Blaine trying on half his wardrobe in front of the camera. Normally, Blaine would have found an activity that involved him spending that much time shirtless a little suspicious, but Kurt seemed content just to make pointed comments between musing about scenes for his musical and ignore the way that Blaine's breath kept hitching in his throat every time he remembered that, not quite six hours ago, he'd bared his entire soul.
Blaine wonders now if his boyfriend hadn't been distracted, trying to find a way to bring up all�this.
"I'd better get ready," he says, finally. "We get to bring friends and family in for support, so you're allowed to come in and watch, if you'd like."
"You say that I like I wasn't already thinking of ways I could climb into the auditorium roof to watch you. This will wreak much less havoc on my new jeans and give me a view of somethingother�than the top of your head."
Blaine smirks just as they call his name and number and he turns towards the door near the stage, motioning for Kurt to follow him. He does, and Blaine takes a few deep breaths and prepares to turn on his most charming smile. It doesn't take much effort, these days; he sounds like –- he's not even sure if Jeff's got enough adjectives for how head over heels in love he is, these days, but just thinking of everything he's gained in the last few months makes him grin.
"Blaine?"
"Yeah?" Blaine spins slightly on his heel, turning to face Kurt. He's really got to get going, but -
Kurt chews on his bottom lip, for just a second, and�don't get distracted, Blaine.�"Feel free to call me out for it if you like, but I'm enjoying being smug and superior for a little bit. It's a look that matches my haute couture�much�better than all those times that I was disappointed because even though I knew their merry-go round of relationships was pretty much the most childish thing ever, I still wanted to be a part of it." Kurt stops still and picks at the corner of a perfectly manicured fingernail, suddenly looking pensive. They�always�pick the worst times for this. Blaine kind of loves it about them; there's a nice kind of irony in knowing that, for all the world will make this difficult for them, it still gives them the opportunity to fuck it all up on their own.
It's that, more than anything, that lets him know that they�won't.
"I'm still not a part of it really, even if Puck�has�stopped making heteronormative assumptions about me ever since Finn told half of glee club about that time he walked in on us and I had to tell him to look up fratricide in the dictionary, but… I've got something better than that now. And I want them to find something even a little like what we've got, one day, but I want to walk into Tina's party next week grinning so hard that they beg me to tell them that my boyfriend said 'I love you', first."
Okay, so Blaine knows that Kurt�is�the best boyfriend in existence now, all prefixes excluded. Blaine also�knows�that if he stops and looks at Kurt for too long, his heart's going to burst. Because this is what Kurt does; his gaze alone tugs at Blaine's heartstrings, unvravelling the fumbled knots that keep him together, some too tight, some too loose, all of them hastily tied like shoelaces in preparation to run. He thinks of his ribcage, cracked first by prejudice and steel-capped boots, and then again by a boy who'd experienced too much of the former and was lucky enough to think of the latter as nothing more than a fashion tragedy. It scares him that Kurt knows all these things, knows that Blaine can be kind of an idiot sometimes and that he actually�hates�Lady Gaga's music and that prom was the first time he'd run towards something he'd wanted, not away from it, and still loves him anyway. But it makes him feel�affirmed�in some way, like he hadn't been running away from anything anyway, but like life had been pushing him towards Kurt.
He knows that's not true, and that Kurt would disagree vehemently if he ever voiced it. But love makes him feel firmer in his convictions now that he knows it's more than just a heady sort of press against the back of his skin, a whisper rolling along the tight seams of his veins, and Blaine's filled with a sudden sense of purpose. Like what he had�really�given to Kurt was the same sense of hope that Blaine himself had spent so long seeking. Kurt had needed the courage, certainly, but what he'd really clung to was the belief that somewhere cared. That someone loved him, no matter how pseudo-platonic it had been at the time.
Blaine forces himself to nod, the column of his throat straining with the effort to contain his heart as it hitches somewhere between his mouth and his chest. He steps up on the stage, watching as Kurt settles himself in a chair near the doorway, and turns to face the judges. One of them nods almost imperceptibly at him, and he straightens himself, letting Kurt's watchful smile draw the nerves out of him, little by little.
"Blaine Anderson?" the judge asks, clasping and unclasping his hands over the top of his paperwork. It's so reminiscent of his Warblers audition that Blaine just laughs; this man is�no�Wes and he's totally�got�this. He hasn't spent the better part of three years trying to convince the Warblers that just because certain songs were technically defined as pop, it didn't make thempopular�for nothing. "According to your resume, you're a member of the Dalton Academy Warblers, am I right?"
"I was their lead soloist for most of this year. We placed second in the regional show choir competition, and we performed at several nursing homes and at the local hospital throughout the year. I also performed at the Kings Island Christmas shows, and I performed here, three years ago."
"You weren't the one who giggled their way through�Livin La Vida Loca, were you?"
Blaine doesn't think it's wise to mention that he wasn't, but only because he actually kind of likes that song.
"No." He can see Kurt perched against the wall, just to the left of the stage, his broad grin ruining any chance he had of looking anything other than overly invested. It takes all of Blaine's self-control not to wink as he adds, "I'm generally more Top 40, myself."
Kurt's still smiling now, eyes and mouth splayed wide open in a way that should be comical but just draws Blaine's attention to the contours of his face, the sharp lines of his jaw and the dusty-pink blush that spreads high on his collarbones at a memory, a memory that led to Blaine being able to suck warm kisses into that spot just behind his ear, mottling Kurt's skin dark and eggplant purple, and he grins in response.
"Are we to believe that this has influenced your audition choice today, Blaine?"
"Not at all," and�this is it.�Every moment seems to be something like�it,�lately, but this is the moment that is everything:�I meant what I said yesterday�and�I'm always going to mean it. It's almost impossible to keep his eyes away from Kurt, who's probably already forming a dozen snarky comments about Blaine's musical choices in his head.
"I know it's not exactly protocol to mention why you've chosen the song that you have, or anything, but I'm sure there's someone out there who will understand why I've chosen this song without me needing to say anything at all."
The judge raises an eyebrow at that, and the room is so silent he can almost hear Kurt draw in a breath. His throat tightens, just slightly, and he forces himself to focus on the beat of the music coming through the speakers, the opening bars of a song that's definitely not Disney but all the better for it because he wants to get nostalgic about this someday, too.
I think that possibly
Maybe I'm falling for you
Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you
Blaine realises, kind of belatedly, that Kurt might not even know this song because it's kind of not even in his repertoire, and it shouldn't have been in Blaine's either except for that Friday night he spent making playlist after playlist while Kurt was in New York and he needed something in reply to the dozen or so gifts Kurt would have undeniably brought him. He forces himself to focus on the choreography, one step, two step; he can't look at Kurt until he gets to the point in the song, even if he can almost feel his boyfriend's stare swallowing him whole with its intensity.
I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much
Blaine still kind of sucks at romance, if the whole blurting out�I love you�in the middle of the Lima Bean when he'd had grand plans involving flowers and an non-public serenade and maybe, depending on how long it took him to get over the nerves and how long that left before Burt Hummel came home from work, some kissing. But he stops and thinks about it for a second, the corners of his lips aching with the effort of smiling so hard, and imagines that, in the future, when they tell this story to their friends and family and it�almost�becomes a bigger moment than it is due to the nuances of memory, Kurt will laugh and say that the Lima Bean was their Broadway stage and�can you believe he originally wanted to sing a Beyonce song to me?�And Blaine won't even be able to regret telling Kurt that as he chimes in with�your love's still got me looking so crazy right now�and Kurt will reply with a whisper in his ear that makes him flush all over;not in front of Rachel, because I know you'll be distracted by a sing-off even though I just want to sneak away and kiss you.
Blaine knows now that he was in love with Kurt from that first day on the staircase, but this is how he knows that he's in love.
And of all the things that Blaine knows, that's the one that gives him the most courage and hope because with it, he knows they can make it in the unknown.
He smiles down at Kurt from the stage, fingers crossed behind his back, and does what he does best, following up his 'I love you' with a song. Blaine can only hope that it helps Kurt to know some things about him, because he knows that Kurt knows he's afraid of spiders and wants to go to Australia one day and that sometimes he has a propensity to be startlingly observant and obtuse all at the same time, but still loves him anyway. And, all the things that Blaine knows about his boyfriend boil down to one simple, incontrovertible truth: he loves Kurt.
(Make that two, because the way Kurt's caught, giddy and boneless on the edge of his seat as Blaine reaches the chorus, his lips mouthing something Blaine thinks might be�I can't believe I'm dating you�andhis every expression mirroring the day he first heard Blaine sing�Teenage Dream�even as his smile comes easier, his eyes shine a little brighter because this isn't disbelieving but simply�believing,�Blaine knows: Kurt loves him, too).
And of all the things that Blaine knows, that's the one that gives him the most courage and hope because with it, he knows they can make it in the unknown.
He smiles down at Kurt from the stage, fingers crossed behind his back, and does what he does best, following up his 'I love you' with a song. Blaine can only hope that it helps Kurt to know some things about him, because he knows that Kurt knows he's afraid of spiders and wants to go to Australia one day and that sometimes he has a propensity to be startlingly observant and obtuse all at the same time, but still loves him anyway. And, all the things that Blaine knows about his boyfriend boil down to one simple, incontrovertible truth: he loves Kurt.
(Make that two, because the way Kurt's caught, giddy and boneless on the edge of his seat as Blaine reaches the chorus, his lips mouthing something Blaine thinks might be�I can't believe I'm dating you�andhis every expression mirroring the day he first heard Blaine sing�Teenage Dream�even as his smile comes easier, his eyes shine a little brighter because this isn't disbelieving but simply�believing,�Blaine knows: Kurt loves him, too).