“Ready for a field trip?”

Kurt looked up from his trig textbook as David slid into a seat at their lunch table. Blaine glanced up briefly, but then returned to his book.

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked.

David grinned, taking the plastic wrap off of his turkey sandwich. “The Warblers are singing at a festival this weekend.”

Now Blaine looked interested. “A festival? That’s new.”

David nodded as he chewed his sandwich. “Yep. After you guys gave that ‘we’re too prissy, we need to perform in public more’ spiel, the board started looking into doing more gigs, and here we go.”

The three of them were quiet for a moment. “Where is the festival?” Kurt asked.

“In Findlay,” David said.

Blaine simply went back to his salad and his copy of The Great Gatsby. Kurt, however, was a bit more excited, peppering David with more questions about it until the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.  Kurt walked to his dreaded math class with a light step and a grin.

“Everyone on the buses, please! Boys, we need to leave!”

Mr. Rinaldi’s insubstantial voice was not doing much in the way of controlling the Warblers, who were mingling in the parking lot, laughing, talking, and roughhousing. Some latecomers were arriving with duffel bags hoisted over their shoulders. They came up to the bus and shoved them into the bus’s storage compartment, smiled and nodded at Mr. Rinaldi, and then went to join their peers, pretending not to hear his exasperated pleas.

After about ten minutes of this, Wes glanced at his watch. “Shoot!” he exclaimed. “We’re supposed to be gone.”

He looked around at the consorting teenage boys, took a deep breath, and bellowed, “Hey! Everybody, get on the bus!”

The singers quieted, looked around, and then headed towards the bus door. Everyone filed on, Wes going in last. “Come on, Mr. Rinaldi,” he said. “We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.”

The teacher sighed.

The field trip couldn’t be made unchaperoned, and since the Warblers had no staff overseer, the headmaster assigned a teacher to them. You can imagine their delight when they discovered that their chaperon was Mr. Rinaldi, the sophomore and junior English teacher who was a bit of a pushover. The Warblers could take care of themselves, and they were glad they didn’t have a teacher that would get in the way of that.

It had been decided that, since the Warblers weren’t performing until the evening, they’d have to stay the night in Findlay. This worried Kurt at first, figuring he’d have to get the money for the hotel from his dad and stepmom(he tried not to ask any monetary requests from them, what with their sacrifice for his tuition), but David and Wes had rolled their eyes when Kurt brought it up, and they told him the school would cover it. This also meant that, after their performance, the boys would be allowed to spend the evening at the festival, which boasted carnival-style attractions. This, of course, excited them very much.

The bus ride up to Findlay was quite tiring for Mr. Rinaldi, who simply wanted to read from his Nook and ponder the literature. His teenage charges, however, were more interested in loudly singing, arguing, playing roadtrip games, and ninja rolling down the bus aisle. The stout teacher could hardly get through a paragraph without having to turn around and yell a warning at the boys. These warnings were generally ignored, but you have to give Mr. Rinaldi some points for effort.

After about two hours of this, the bus turned into a parking lot and opened the door.

The boys stampeded out, and took a look around them. They grinned when they saw the expanse of land in front of them, covered in booths, stands, and best of all: rides.

Mr. Rinaldi came down the bus stairs and said, “Well boys, it’s four o’clock. You perform in a half-hour, so let’s get going! You’re supposed to be backstage and ready in fifteen minutes.”

The boys continued to ooh and ahh at the various attractions they saw in the distance, some of them pulling out sunglasses or cell phones. Mr. Rinaldi sighed. “Wesley, please. Could you tell these boys to get going?”

Wes grinned. “Sure thing, Mr. Rinaldi. Hey, guys, come on!”

The Warblers immediately followed Wes and David around the edge of the festival, towards the main stage. Mr. Rinaldi pursed his lips, pushed up his rectangular glasses, and then hurried after them.

They eventually found their way to the main stage, and a tall, thin man wearing a suit jacket and jeans standing to the left of it grinned at the group of uniformed boys. He stuck his hand out, and David leaped ahead of the other boys to shake it. “I’m Jones Gall. I’m organizing all the stage acts. A co-ed dance group is just starting up, and they’ll finish by four twenty-five. Then it’s your turn.”

The boys craned their necks to see the stage, where a heavy-beated techno song was playing. “Co-ed, huh?” One of the boys said. “Can anyone see any cute girls up there?”

Mr. Gall’s brow furrowed, but he continued on. “You can all go back here,” he opened a door that lead to a dark room, “And do any preparations, final rehearsals, you need. I’ll holler when you’re up.”

The boys nodded and began to file in. Mr. Rinaldi came up then, a bit red faced, breathing heavily. “So sorry,” he said to Mr. Gall. “I was…they…the boys are so quick…”

Mr. Gall looked down at the man, puzzled. “Well, the choir boys, they’re getting ready in here.”

Mr. Rinaldi nodded, smiled thinly, and went into the door. Mr. Gall watched him, then shrugged and turned away. 

The Warblers went on stage at four thirty and spent twenty minutes singing a medley of eighty’s pop songs, then various Top 40 hits, much to the crowd’s enjoyment. They left to stage to loud cheering and applause. Backstage they high-fived eachother and chattered for about five minutes before they finally quieted enough for Mr. Rinaldi to say, “Now, boys. We must all meet back at the bus by eight o’clock. Until then, you may stay at the festival. Do not leave the grounds for anything, and be at the bus at eight o’clock sharp.”

The small man’s last words were swallowed by the whoops and cheers of the Warblers, who then stampeded out of the room and into the festival.

It was, of course, a sort of hyper-teenage-boy nirvana. Sugary foods, carnival games, vomit-inducing rides, and plenty of girls. The singers split up into various groups. Kurt ended up with Blaine, Wes, David, Travis(a spiky-haired boy in several of Kurt’s classes) and Steven(a redheaded senior Warbler). They decided to hit the food area first, and then go on rides(which seemed like they were asking for upset stomachs, according to Kurt).

They found an empty picnic table, put their stuff down and dispersed to various food stands, leaving Kurt to watch their possessions. He sat there watching people walk around, laughing, looking at the light-blue schedule booklets for the festival. Blaine was the first to return, with a bag of kettle corn. He sat down next to Kurt and offered him some from the bag.

“Oh, no thank you.” Kurt said. “I like my teeth nice and cavity-free.”

Blaine grinned and took a handful of the sugary stuff. “Suit yourself,” he told Kurt as Travis walked up with a chili dog.

The boys sat at their picnic table for a while, eating and making plans. When they’d all finished they made their way to the ride area. Travis and Wes unfolded the already-creased map of the festival, their fingers tracing the paths to each attraction. First they headed for the Gravitron, then the Orbital, then the Fireball…the ridiculous names went in Kurt’s ear and out the other. Needless to say, he was not a ride person. He did not spend approximately twenty minutes styling his hair every morning just to have it all shot to hell and feel sick to his stomach to boot. Instead he ended up standing outside the ride, holding his classmates’ things while they went on.

“I can stay out here with you,” Blaine offered at the third or fourth ride-something with ‘Dragon’ in its name. 

Kurt looked at him for a moment. “Don’t do it for my benefit,” he told Blaine with a roll of his eyes. “You want to go on.”

Blaine glanced at the huge metal contraption, and then back at Kurt. “Well, yeah, I do, but…”

“Go.”

Blaine grinned and patted Kurt on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.”

Kurt sighed.

Despite his friends’ assurances that they would do something Kurt wanted, they ended up bouncing from ride to ride until after dark. It was about seven-thirty when they approached the gigantic Ferris wheel, the one ride Kurt agreed to partake in. The line was long, but they eventually reached the front. The bored-looking man waved them forward, towards a gondola. They started piling in, and just as Blaine was about to step in, the carnie stuck his arm out.

“Four’s the limit,” he said. “You two hafta wait.”

Blaine turned around and shared a confused look with Kurt, who was behind him. “We can’t sit with our friends?” He asked the man.

“Nope,” he replied, and then turned to the group of preteen girls behind the two singers, ending the conversation.

“We can’t sit with you guys!” Blaine called to the Warblers in the gondola.

“We’re not deaf,” Steven said. “We heard him tell you.”

“Just get in the next one,” Wes told Blaine and Kurt. “We’ll meet you at the exit.”

So Kurt and Blaine waited for the Ferris wheel to shift to the next gondola, and were let in by the carnie. With a metallic whir, the machine started to turn, whisking the boys towards the top.

“Well.” Kurt said, looking over the rail. “This is nice.”

Blaine, who sat across the gondola from Kurt, raised his eyebrow. “Is it?”

Kurt turned back to face Blaine. As they reached the top of the wheel, he stood out against a backdrop of colored lights. “Yeah. I…well, I love Ferris wheels.” He paused. “I remember my mom taking me on one.”

Blaine’s face softened, and he scooted a bit closer to Kurt. “To tell the truth…I’ve always liked them too,” he told Kurt. “The fast rides are fun, but the Ferris wheel is always the perfect way to end a day. Slow, and nostalgic, and you get to see all the lights, and the landscape…” 

Kurt nodded, and Blaine noticed that his cheeks were pinker than usual, affected by getting more sun than usual. “It is nice and quiet up here,” he said. “Peaceful. No sugar-high children underfoot, or people yelling in my ear that there’s a winner every time.”

Blaine smirked, and reached up to brush back his hair, which was mussed from all the rides. “Exactly. You can see everything from here. It’s a nice place to just sit and talk to someone.”

“Someone like me?” There was a slightly hopeful tone to Kurt’s voice, though he tried to suppress it.

“Yeah,” Blaine replied, smiling softly. “Someone like you.”

There was a companionable silence between them as they went around the bottom of the wheel, the chatter from the long line filling their ears. Kurt bit his lip as they started to rise again. He glanced at Blaine, who was admiring the view, and took a deep breath.

“Would it be cheesy if I said I was glad we got our own gondola?” Kurt pushed the word out quickly, before he could think twice, and once they were said he found himself breathing harder, as if he’d just run a race.

Blaine turned to face Kurt, noticing the way his pale form stood out against the night sky. He hesitated before answering. “Yes,” he said finally, “it would be cheesy. But that’s not to say I wouldn’t agree.”

The color returned to Kurt’s face, and he beamed. “And if that were to happen, what else would you do?”

“Well,” Blaine considered. “I’d probably ask if you had fun today.”

“I did,” Kurt answered, breaking out of the hypothetical. “It wasn’t a perfect day but I still enjoyed it.”

“Sorry we didn’t get to anything for you to do,” Blaine said, raising his voice as they dipped past the crowd again. “I guess we lost track of time.”

Kurt shrugged, smiling slightly. “It’s okay. Just this is enough.”

There were so many unspoken words and feeling behind that simple statement. All his unrequited feelings, the fact that for once he actually knew what he wanted, but Blaine didn’t want to “screw this up.” So day by day Kurt put on a strong front and a smile, sticking to the flirty friendship that he cherished, but he secretly longed for more. ‘Just this,’ whether referring to the Ferris wheel ride or their platonic relationship, was all Kurt was going to get. And it was, in his eyes, enough. So long as Blaine was with him.

Blaine looked at Kurt for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he said, suddenly, “I don’t know, Kurt. Sometimes I think you deserve more.”

Kurt wasn’t sure if they were talking about the Ferris wheel or not. “Oh, do you?”

Blaine nodded, and he shifted a little bit, moving closer to Kurt. “Yeah, I do. You’re amazing, Kurt. You know that, right? You’re incredible and that’s how you should be treated.”

Kurt was shocked, and about fifty responses swirled around in his head, but all he could actually get out of his mouth was, “Oh-I-is it-thanks…”

Blaine smiled, ignoring the awkwardness. “That’s why, um…”

Kurt watched as Blaine seemed to struggle with his thoughts. “What?” Kurt asked, suddenly dying to know. “That’s why what?”

Blaine looked away, staring at the bright twinkling lights below them. They were nearly at the top of the wheel, and just then it slowed and stopped, causing the gondola to swing slightly. Blaine took a deep breath and turned back to Kurt.

“That’s why it’s really, really hard to not lean over and kiss you right now.”

Kurt stared at Blaine, who, after he pushed the words out, blushed slightly and looked rather sheepish. A noise came from Kurt’s mouth, a sort of repressed squeak that was, he hated to notice, rather unattractive.

“Did you…are you serious?” Kurt finally asked in a strange voice.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Blaine replied.

They sat there in silence for a few seconds.

“Why?” Kurt asked.

“What?” Blaine’s eyebrows furrowed, confused.

“Why don’t you?”

Blaine sighed. He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, and then looked up again. “Because I’m a coward.”

Kurt shook his head. “Don’t you get it?” he asked softly, looking into Blaine’s eyes. “The hardest part is over. I’ve wanted this for ages. And now, finally, you want it too. You’ve done the confession part. That’s the part that takes courage.” Blaine smirked. Kurt went on. “So let’s do this. Let’s be together. Let’s kiss.”

Blaine looked at Kurt for a second. “Okay.” He said. And then he scooted until he was right up next to Kurt, completely screwing up the balance of the gondola and sending it rocking. He lost his balance and fell straight into Kurt, who stopped him by placing his hand on Blaine’s chest. They looked up, eyes meeting, and then Blaine leaned in and they kissed.

After a few seconds, the Ferris wheel began turning again, which started them apart. The two boys smiled at eachother, and then began laughing as they rounded the top and headed back towards the ground. As they did, they heard people yelling above them.

Looking up, they saw that their classmates were now in the gondola above them, and could see them sitting next to eachother, Kurt’s hand on the front of Blaine’s blazer and Blaine’s arms wrapped around Kurt’s waist.

“Whoo!” The boys catcalled, making several loud comments about using protection and using the word ‘finally’ a lot.

Blaine looked back down at Kurt’s face. “It’s going to be a long bus ride home.”

Kurt shrugged. “I can, you know, think of a couple ways to make the time go by faster.”

Blaine beamed, and his smile was brighter than all the colorful lights below them combined.