"Blaine?�Where are you?"�Kurt whispered into his phone.

He had on hideous aviator sunglasses that he'd stolen from�Finn and a trench coat that did absolutely nothing�for his figure, but that was kind of the point. Going incognito didn't exactly allow for fashionable clothing and accessory choices. He'd been slinking through the halls all day and had skipped four of his six classes (the ones that had other members of New Directions in them, of course) by going to the nurse and even making up some only semi-fictional sibling issues with Finn to get a pass to Miss Pillsbury's office. He and Blaine had agreed to meet in the boy's locker room before rehearsal so they could regroup and enter the room as a united front.

"I'm on my way. Settle down,"�Blaine said, sounding incredibly grumpy. Kurt rolled his eyes and leaned against the garish red lockers.

"We have to be in class in four minutes, so hurry up,"�Kurt bit back, letting his head drop against the metal surface and ending the call.

He wasn't upset with Blaine, even though Blaine was the reason why he'd been creeping around the school all day like a ninja in one of those stupid movies Finn loved so much. Blaine really did cause all of Kurt's problems, didn't he?�It was a good thing he was so adorable. And sexy.

And sexy.

Wait, had he already mentioned that?

Blaine slunk in a moment later, looking over his shoulder before committing completely to entering. He practically threw himself into Kurt's arms and buried his face against Kurt's neck.

"How are we going to make it through rehearsal?" Blaine asked, "Puck was in my gym class earlier and he kept trying to talk to me. I ran faster around the track than I ever have in my entire life just to get away from him. I think I�pulled a muscle." Blaine bent down to rub at his calf through his jeans and Kurt soothingly smoothed a hand over his back.

"I practically knocked Jacob Ben Israel over trying to hide from Santana when she left the cafeteria after lunch, which I didn't even eat by the way because Mercedes has been texting me ever since Saturday morning and I can't even face her right now,"�Kurt said, raking his hands through his hair, sending it every which way and not caring for pretty much the first time ever outside of the bedroom.

"I can't believe we forgot to lock the door,"�Blaine groaned as they headed for the hall, "Three people in Glee have now seen us having sex. How is that even possible?"

"Maybe we should stop having sex,"�Kurt said with a shrug, getting all the way to the hallway before turning to roll his eyes. Blaine was standing frozen with his mouth dropped open in horror. "I'm kidding, oh my god."

"Don't even say things like that to me,"�Blaine said, exhaling loudly in relief and clutching at his chest as he finally joined Kurt at the door. Kurt reached over to take Blaine's hand in his, and they walked toward the choir room with their fingers intertwined and their hearts pounding.

Santana and Brittany busting in on them having sex had killed the mood to say the least. Then, they'd locked the door and spent the rest of the night holed in up Rachel's dads' room just waiting until they were sober enough to escape, which they'd done around five in the morning. Kurt had pretended to be sick all weekend, which was also the reason he'd given for coming home so early from his 'sleepover,' and since Blaine had picked him up for school that morning, he'd managed to avoid Finn, too. They'd been sneaky so far, but the distance they'd created was about to collapse. Glee rehearsal would put them face to face not only with Brittany and Santana, but everyone else who had undoubtedly heard all of the details precisely two and a half seconds after the girls had gone back downstairs.

“So, how bad do you think this is going to be?” Blaine asked, tugging at the collar of his polo shirt with the hand that wasn’t death-gripping Kurt’s.

“Well, Santana and Brittany walked in on us having sex. And then they tried to come in and close the door and I had to chase them out of the room. Naked. How do you think it’s going to go?” Kurt asked, already imagining the looks the girls would be giving them all throughout rehearsal and trying really hard to forget all about the fact that Santana had almost managed to wrap a hand around his dick before he’d pushed her out into the hallway. What was wrong with her?

“You know them better than I do. Excuse me for asking!” Blaine said, dropping Kurt’s hand and speeding up his pace a bit. Kurt sighed, suddenly flooded with a wash of guilt so severe it made him kind of want to die on the spot, and chased after him.

“Blaine, come on,” he said, rounding him and finally pulling the hideous sunglasses off so he could really look into Blaine’s eyes. They were beautiful and scared and Kurt put a hand on either of his cheeks. He ducked his head until their foreheads were pressed together, and could feel Blaine’s stubbly jaw relax under his touch. He hadn’t shaved in days, and Kurt couldn’t help but be a little distracted, thinking back on the few times when they'd made out when Blaine was like this—the scratch of hair against his neck and chin unbelievably sexy. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine didn’t say anything, just cupped a hand over one of Kurt’s and gave it a squeeze. He didn’t let go of that hand, just brought it down from his cheek and used it to pull Kurt beside him down the hall. When they reached the choir room, they paused just outside the door, shared a determined look, and then walked in. Only half of the Glee club was there on time, and Santana and Brittany were thankfully two of the tardy ones along with Finn, Rachel, Puck, and Lauren.

Every voice that had been ringing out in laughter and excited conversation when they’d entered fell silent as soon as they were spotted. Kurt swallowed hard as they headed for their typical spot in the back row. He was never drinking again. Ever.

Okay, he was totally going to drink again. But he would definitely lock the door next time he decided to have sex with his boyfriend at a party. Yes, he would almost certainly be able to remember to do that.

“Where have you been?” Mercedes asked in an accusatory and hushed voice, spinning around to look at Kurt. She looked hurt and he felt terrible. She hadn’t been the one to walk in on them, but he knew his gossipy friend well enough to know that she would have wanted details. Explicit ones. And he just hadn’t been ready to talk about it yet. If ever.

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to play it cool as he slipped off the trench coat.

“I’ve been texting you since Saturday morning, you won’t answer my e-mails, you didn’t come to lunch today,” she listed off.

Kurt looked around to find that everyone was looking at them now. Blaine was practically shrinking in on himself in the seat beside him, clearly wishing that the chair would eat him alive or that a meteor would crash into the school or that he would spontaneously combust or something equally life-ending and dramatic.

“I’ve been busy,” Kurt said, but it came out as more of a question.

She fixed him with her best judgmental look and got up to come sit next to him. Kurt looked around the room. Everyone was still watching. Didn’t they have anything better to do? Why had the Quinn/Rachel/Finn love triangle and all its ridiculousness dissipated at the end of the last school year? Why hadn’t anyone else gotten knocked up? Why in the hell was his sex life the sole source of current Glee club drama?

“Kurt,” Mercedes whispered, “I know you’re embarrassed about what happened on Friday night, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop talking to everyone.”

“All I wanted was a few days to let things blow over. Is that really so much to ask?”

“No, it isn’t,” she sighed, “I’ve just been really worried about you. Both of you.”

“We’re fine,” Kurt said, “But I really don’t want to talk about it. I’m sure you already know all of the details anyway.” Mercedes blushed.

“They were a little excited when they came back down,” she said. Kurt closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.

“Dude! What the hell!” he heard Finn call out.

Fuck.

Loud footsteps stormed up to the third riser and he felt Mercedes get up and another body flop down in her place in a way that only Finn could.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Finn asked. Kurt finally dared to open his eyes and found his step-brother scowling at him. “It’s not like I’m the one who walked in on you two having sex.”

“Not this time,” Kurt sassed. Had Finn’s stupid eyes always been so beady?

“None of us knew where you’d gone. I had no idea what to say to Mom when I came home on Saturday. I almost got both of us in trouble and blew our cover asking if she’d seen you. I�had to make up a story about how Rachel had texted me saying that you left.”

�“Well forgive us for not exactly wanting to go out to get breakfast with all of you the next morning,” Kurt spat.

�“All I’m saying is that, you know, a note or something would have been nice.”

�“Okay, fine. The next time that Santana and Brittany walk in on Blaine and I having sex and we get mortified beyond belief, I’ll be sure to leave you a note letting you know that we’re going to be getting the hell out of there as soon as possible,” Kurt said.

�“Hello boys,” Santana’s voice said excitedly as she, Brittany, and Puck came in the room. Kurt groaned and let his head drop back until it thunked hard into the acoustic panel lined wall.

�“Did she seriously see you naked?” Finn asked.

�“My pants were still mostly on, but yes.”�

“Were you still… you know…”�

“As a rock.”

“Dude, that sucks.”

“Fucking tell me about it.”

"Do you mind if I�sit here?"�Santana asked Blaine, looking pointedly at the empty chair beside him.

"Actually-" Blaine started, but she cut him off and sat down before he had a chance to finish.

"Great!" she said, Brittany sitting down beside her and both of them angling themselves toward the guys. Kurt waited for Finn to get up to go sit by Rachel, but he didn't. He didn't know whether to be irritated or flattered by the sudden brotherly protectiveness.

"We're not talking to you,"�Kurt butted in.

"Why not?" Brittany asked.

"Oh my god,"�Blaine mumbled, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

"Because of what happened on Friday night, Britt," Santana explained, "But I don't know why they're so mad at us. It's not like we forgot to lock the door."

"No, but you were the ones who tried to come in the room. Oh, and there's the whole thing where you tried to grab me,"�Kurt said.

"It was right there and I was drunk. I'm not going to apologize for that," Santana said, "Hell, I'd do it sober. I might be a lesbian, but I can appreciate a nice-"

"I'm sending you the bill," Rachel chimed in from the front row. Kurt wanted to send her a very nice arrangement of Thank You flowers for interrupting at precisely the right moment.

"For what?" he asked.

"The emergency dry cleaning I had to get on my dads' duvet." Fuck the flowers.

"Oh my god, did you two finish after we left?"�Santana asked.

"Nothing gets us going more than being walked in on and accosted by a drunk lesbian couple."�Kurt rolled his eyes and wished that anyone else would start talking.

"Well, I have to admit that I'm surprised,"�Puck obliged, turning around in his chair to look back at them, "I�always assumed that Kurt would be on bottom."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"�Blaine whispered, dropping his head into his hands and shrugging off Santana when she tried to rub his back.

"How very naive of you," Kurt managed to respond, feeling pretty proud of himself for sounding so steady when all he really wanted to do was either laugh hysterically or throw something at him.

"Well, if one of you was going to be the girl-"

"We're two men in a relationship.�There is no girl,"�Kurt snapped.

"So true," Santana said.

"Uh, guys?" Mr. Schuester said. Oh god. How long had he been standing up there? From the beet red and thoroughly horrified look on his face, it had to have been quite awhile. "We need to talk about the assembly coming up."

"Finally," Kurt breathed, slinking back into his chair.
�
"What assembly?" Rachel asked.

"The one for,"�Mr. Schue coughed a little,�"Sex Education Week."

"Well, Kurt and Blaine are experts on that," Puck joked. And with that, Kurt reached the end of his patience.

"Shut the fuck up, Puckerman!" Kurt shouted.

"Principal's office. Now,"�Mr. Schue said. Kurt practically moaned with relief.

"Oh thank god,"�he said, half-running across the room to escape. He didn't even care if he got suspended. Hell, maybe he should just punch someone so that he definitely would. Rachel's face and the dry cleaning bill she was waving in front of it when he looked at her was pretty punchable at the moment.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Kurt heard Blaine say from the back of the room, "Can I go, too?"

"No," Schuester said firmly, "Now back to the assembly. I was thinking..."

Kurt shot a sympathetic look at Blaine from the hallway and then made his way to safety of Figgins' office. He'd have to make it up to Blaine somehow that he'd gotten out of the rehearsal and had been forced to leave Blaine behind.

He knew just the thing.