On Friday, the Warblers received a mass text from Jeff, “Movie tomorrow night, our room?”

Later that evening: “9 seems to work for most everyone. Come if you want!”

On Saturday afternoon, Kurt gets a text from Blaine: “Are you going tonight? I hear they’re watching a favorite of yours!”

Kurt, home for Friday night dinner, sighs, crossing his legs on the bed and contemplating whether or not this is a good idea, given what happened on Valentine’s Day. If he knew what the movie was, he thought he might have a more definite opinion, but Jeff was keeping the whole thing tied up. Kurt hopes to a god he doesn’t believe in that the movie isn’t When Harry Met Sally. He might have to end it all if he sat through that with Blaine and at least ten other guys.

At the last possible moment, he decides to go, telling his dad and Carole that he see them next week. He’s quite pleased to find that the movie isn’t anything so life threatening, just The Sound of Music in glorious technicolor. No connotations there that he’s aware of. It seems like a normal, near stress-free evening with the Warblers. Everyone gets settled in with their snack of choice around the rather large television in Jeff and Nick’s room. Kurt ends up on Nick’s bed next to Blaine, not interested in sitting on the floor for almost three hours of the film after which he was named.

He had told Blaine of his mother’s obsession with the film, watching it so much that his father cringed at the mere mention of it. Having been fresh out of Columbia with her English degree in one hand and a positive pregnancy test in the other, she found she had no possibilities for a career that suited her degree in Lima. It seemed like a waste to be writing freelance for The Lima News, but that’s what she ended up doing. Her framed Bachelor of Arts gathered dust on the wall of the home she and Burt had two mortgages on. She ended up at home for weeks on end, waiting for work to come in, without any respite. It was far too close to “barefoot and pregnant” for her liking, as if all her mother’s warnings about being with Burt were coming true. Watching musicals took up a bulk of her time, The Sound of Music playing a heavy role in the rotation. It seemed natural to name him Kurt after all the inspiration that Julie Andrews’ rendition of “I Have Confidence” gave her.

Blaine grins when Kurt von Trapp announces that he’s incorrigible and nudges his shoulder against Kurt’s. Kurt glances over at him and rolls his eyes, but that obviously doesn’t deter Blaine. He tilts his head onto Kurt’s shoulder and stays there, still watching the movie avidly. Kurt is afraid to move, not wanting to jostle Blaine and end the exquisite torture of Blaine leaning against him. He tries to focus on the movie and let himself relax, every time Blaine breathes in, Kurt feels it against his entire side, warmth spreading like embarrassment across his torso. It’s almost a relief when Blaine moves away for a few moments, and Kurt wonders if it’s counter-productive to wish simultaneously that Blaine would and wouldn’t touch him.

He doesn’t get to wonder for very long however, for Blaine has grabbed Nick’s pillow and has placed it under his head on Kurt’s right thigh. If Kurt thought that there was pressure involved before, it’s been completely forgotten. He has no idea where to put his hands. It seems too presumptuous to rest them anywhere on Blaine, despite Blaine’s quite apparent lack of physical boundaries, but leaning back against them won’t last for long and he can’t very well hold onto the headboard either. Blaine, however, doesn’t seem to be having the same issues, nestling against the pillow without a thought. As Kurt is beginning to wonder if it might have been better to have watched When Harry Met Sally in utter awkwardness, Blaine turns his head to look at Kurt and says, “This is okay, right?”

Kurt opens his mouth and closes it again rapidly, unsure if he should complain about mixed signals or pray that Blaine doesn’t ever get up. “It’s fine,” he says, trying desperately not to wince.

Blaine smiles, turning back over and Kurt wants to scream. For once, he’s hoping a Warbler will turn around and say something to them about PDA, their acceptance a possibility he’d never even considered being a problem before. He finally settles on situating his hand on Blaine’s shoulder, but the height of it compared to where he wants his arm is too disparate, his forearm beginning to ache mere minutes after his decision. Kurt tries to nonchalantly slide his hand to Blaine’s neck, the angle much more comfortable for his muscles.

Blaine makes a pleased noise, almost a purr. “Your hands are warm,” he mumbles, smiling contentedly.

Kurt moves his hand back to Blaine’s shoulder immediately, comfort be damned. “Oh, do I need to—”

“No, I meant, I’m cold, so, that’s fine.”

Kurt tentatively rests his fingers along the side of his throat. With the way Kurt is carefully avoiding his Adam’s apple, the tip of his middle finger is resting against Blaine’s pulse point. The throb of Blaine’s blood against the nerve endings sends tingles up through Kurt’s hand, making it easier for Kurt to feel his own pulse beating against his fingers. The sensation causes him to wonder if Blaine’s heart is syncing with his own. He abandons the sentimental notion almost immediately after it forms, not willing to allow himself to get pulled into another swirling eddy of false hopes.

When Kurt begins to feel comfortable with the positioning of his body parts, Blaine begins to squirm slightly, like a four-year-old in need of a reluctant potty break.

“Do you need me to move?” Kurt asks, trying to decide if he’s more reluctant or soothed about the possibility of Blaine leaving his lap.

“No, I just—” He squirms again. “My back itches.” There’s a long pause in which Kurt questions his life and what he did to deserve this and then Blaine says, “Would you mind?”

“I—no, that’s fine,” Kurt replies, stomach in knots at all the ways this could go wrong. He drags his nails lightly down Blaine’s back, making the younger boy shiver. “You’ll have to direct me,” Kurt murmurs, starting in the middle of Blaine’s back and working his way up. Blaine quietly directs Kurt to the soft valley between his shoulder blades, groaning in relief when Kurt bears down on the spot. Kurt smiles at Blaine despite himself, amused by his puppy-like nature.

“Thank you,” Blaine says, which Kurt takes as a signal to return to his regular programming and put his hand back on Blaine’s neck.

Inadvertently, Kurt imagines Blaine going gray at his temples and squirming in exactly the same way while they watch When Harry Met Sally and laugh about what stupid teenagers they were. Blaine would grin, turning slightly and kissing Kurt’s knee, and say, “I loved you, even then.”

He’s so lost in the fantasy, he doesn’t realize until he hears the opening notes of “Edelweiss” that he’s been stroking the nape of Blaine’s neck with his thumb. He immediately begins to panic. What if Blaine is uncomfortable with such an obvious sign of affection? Blaine could even see Kurt’s motions as blatantly disregarding his wish to remain platonic. It could be the end of the best friendship he’d ever had. What will he do at Dalton without Blaine? But when his eyes dart down to Blaine, his eyelids are drooping, almost asleep in Kurt’s lap. By the time Maria and the von Trapp children are performing “The Lonely Goatherd,” Blaine is fully under, snuffling into the pillow.

Kurt always hated the Baroness when he was younger, seeing her stealing the Captain from Maria and despising her on principle. Now, he sees the Baroness and feels for her, for her utter inability to be the person Captain von Trapp loves. Their situations aren’t parallels in any sense of the word, but he can’t help but sympathize with her hopelessness in the situation. He looks down at Blaine sleeping and knows he’d give up any chance at their relationship for him to be happy.

Blaine turns over reflexively during a cheery moment in the movie, hiding from the noise and light. As the Captain and Maria croon to one another in the gazebo, Blaine curls into Kurt’s body, forehead pressing against Kurt’s stomach. Kurt strokes over his head, wishing Blaine’s hair were looser so that he could run his fingers through it.

The first gunshot on screen shocks Blaine into waking, jerking into Kurt’s body with wide eyes. Kurt pulls his hand away from Blaine as if his skin had warmed up beyond measure. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Blaine says, rolling back over as if to face the movie when he realizes what woke him up. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A long time.”

“Sorry,” Blaine says again, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“It’s fine,” Kurt says, wondering how many times someone can say that word before it loses all meaning. He tells people he’s “fine” all the time, but does he ever mean it?

Blaine looks at the screen for a minute, sees Rolf passively saving the von Trapps, and turns back to Kurt. “I’m glad you came.”

Kurt chuckles, feeling less like laughing as Blaine sits up and moves the pillow away. “I’m sure you are. You got a human pillow out of the deal.”

Blaine grins. “I’m a little...touchy-feely. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for being you, Blaine. Everyone else can get used to it.”

Blaine’s smile softens as he looks over Kurt’s face, as if looking for the joke in his features. “Thanks for being my pillow.”

From the seriousness in his eyes, he thinks that maybe Blaine is thanking him for more than just supporting him in the most literal sense. He restrains himself from speaking the truthful my pleasure, instead saying “Don’t mention it.”