“I can't believe you roped me into watching this. Again.”

Blaine laughed. It was the weekend; they were sat on the floor of his living room, curled up on a blanket with their backs to the sofa and his laptop wired up to the television. On the screen, Imagine Me and You played out. “What's so bad about it, huh?” he asks, nuzzling a little closer to his boyfriend, and he could feel the way Kurt's arms tightened around his shoulders.

“I know exactly what's going to happen now,” the boy replied flatly, moving his gaze from the screen to look at Blaine. He couldn't help the small smile that plagued his lips. “The girl leaves the guy for the other girl and everything else is just a whole lot of self-discovery and filler.”

Blaine pouted. “But it's sweet, Kurt. It's a sweet love story,” he tried, propping his chin up on Kurt's shoulder and moving his other arm so both were looped around Kurt's middle.

“I'm not saying that. I'm only saying it's a cliché. A cliché we've already watched.”

“So is The Notebook and every other book written by Nicholas Sparks, but you still love them,” Blaine pointed out, earning himself an eye roll from Kurt. “Come on, you have to admit it makes you feel at least a little bit warm and fuzzy.”

Kurt shook his head fondly at his boyfriend, chuckling. “Maybe I'm just distracted,” he suggested.

“Distracted?” Blaine repeated, confused. Kurt nodded, the tips of his ears turning pink, and Blaine pressed on, “By what?”

“By, uh…” The boy's gaze fluttered away from his boyfriend's face, over to the TV again. The light of the screen danced in his eyes and over the blush on his cheeks. “You.”

Blaine blinked. “Me?” Kurt hummed in agreement, face growing redder, and his boyfriend's smile grew with it. “Oh?” Chuckling, he lifted his head slightly to press his lips just under Kurt's jaw. “Any better?”

Kurt's breath hitched. “No, not really,” he said on an exhale.

“No? Oh, well…” Blaine leant over Kurt a little more, the sound of the television fading into background noise. “How about-“ his mouth skimmed over the skin of Kurt's neck until it reached his pulse point and sucked at the skin, “-now?

“Oh, god.” Kurt's head tilted back against the sofa, the arm around Blaine's shoulder pulling him closer until he was almost in his lap. Blaine chuckled, settling his hands at Kurt's waist as he mouthed over the same spot. “By all means, keep distracting me.”

“Mmm, I intend to,” Blaine whispered against his skin, and didn't miss the shiver that rippled along Kurt's spine. While he kissed along to his collarbone, hands found the small of Blaine's back, fingers curling around the material of his shirt and riding it up.

And Kurt's hands was half way under it when the boy on top of him froze. “Blaine?” he questioned, but he was hushed by his boyfriend's hand. After a few, pregnant seconds of silence, his eyes went wide.

“Someone's home.” Blaine scrambled to his feet, panic beginning to fester in his chest. “That was my dad's car outside.”

“What?” Kurt hissed, standing up, too. “I thought he wasn't—“

“Back till five, yeah, me too,” Blaine replied very quickly. His eyes darted around the room, breaths baited between the pair, and the only sound breaking the silence was the sound of a car door opening outside. “Shit, Kurt, he can't see you here. He'll skin me alive.”

Kurt swallowed. “Just say I was picking something up—“

“He won't believe me.” Footstep crunched on the gravel outside. “Hide,” Blaine whispered urgently, rushing to scoop up Kurt's bag, shoes and jacket. “Behind the curtain.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please,” Blaine begged in a whisper, already dashing over and throwing the items unceremoniously behind them. Kurt swallowed thickly and all but ran over; once he had slipped into the small space there, Blaine pulled the curtain a little further shut. “I'm sorry.”

Kurt shook his head, a silent ‘It's okay', and with one final, apologetic grimace, Blaine disappeared from view.

Keys turned in the lock. Kurt sucked in a deep breath and held it, pressing himself further against the window as he heard the movie cut off, replaced by the sound of a TV channel and the soft thud of shoes on the carpet.

“Blaine?” came a deep, grizzly voice. Yep, that's his father.

“Hi, Dad,” Blaine replied curtly. Kurt closed his eyes tight as the footsteps grew closer, scared that if he breathed it would ruffle the curtains. He'd been told about Mr Anderson before; he knew enough to gauge that he wasn't the warmest of people, particularly towards Blaine's sexuality, and though he couldn't guess what would happen if he was found, all signs pointed towards it not being very good. “I was just about to put on a movie.”

There was a grunt of acknowledgement. As Mr Anderson's shadow passed by the curtain, Kurt drew his lips into his mouth and pressed his eyebrows together, focusing on anything but the tightness of his chest. “What movie?”

A pause. “The Notebook,” Blaine answered, and that was shortly followed by a scoff.

“Why on Earth would you want to watch The Notebook?”

“I…I just like it. That's all.”

“You like it? Christ, you'd think I had a daughter instead of a son.” Kurt glared from behind the curtain, biting his tongue to stop himself retorting. “Next thing you know, you'll be braiding your hair. Watch something else.”

“But it's already set up—“

“Watch something else.” The voice was firmer this time, and the boy quietened. For a while, there was silence in the room, the kind that pressed down on your ears and seemed deafening. Kurt wanted to do something; say something. He wanted to reach out for Blaine and wrap him up in his arms, but he knew that he couldn't. Mr Anderson created an air of foreboding that made the hairs on the back of Kurt's neck stand on end, and his body was stuck, stricken, against the wall.

“I'll watch The Avengers instead,” sounded the voice of his boyfriend, and the complete resignation of it made Kurt hurt for him.

“That's fine. Why is it so dark in here? It's pretty sunny outside.” Footfalls got nearer and nearer and when a hand reached out to grab the curtain, Kurt had to clamp both hands over his mouth to stop a distressed sound escaping him as his heart leapt against his ribcage.

“I- I want it to be like a cinema,” Blaine said quickly. After what felt like forever, the hand slowly retracted, and his muscles grew a little less tense. Then, he realised he was shaking. You're shaking, Kurt. The boy looked down at himself; he tried to stop his leg quivering but no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't. “You know… dark and stuff.”

“Right. Well, have fun with that. I'm going to be upstairs,” Mr Anderson replied.

“Okay. I won't be loud.”

“I know.”  The quiet returned. Kurt was pretty sure Mr Anderson had left the room, but he daren't breathe a word in fear that he was wrong. After a few more, suspended moments, though, a door clicked shut upstairs and the curtain was wrenched open.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” Blaine whispered, the sound of the television masking the sound of his voice. “He wasn't supposed to be back yet, I didn't- I didn't know-“

“Shh, shh,” Kurt cooed, scooping up his stuff from the floor. “It's fine, Blaine. I know you didn't know.”

“You're shaking.” Blaine reached out, gently covering Kurt's hands with his own, eyes wide and worried. “Are you okay?”

Kurt nodded a little. “I'm fine,” he mumbled, giving Blaine's hands a small squeeze before dropping them to put his shoes on. “Are you?”

“I'm fine,” Blaine murmured in response, sighing. “I wish you could stay.”

“I wish I could, too. But I don't want you getting in trouble.” Kurt straightened up once his shoes were on and pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheek, his hand cupping the other. “We'll Skype later. Okay?”

Blaine swallowed hard but nodded nonetheless. “Okay. I'll see you to the door–”

“Oh, no, no, no. I know you, whenever you see me to the door, you stand there talking to me for another twenty minutes. And let's not forget the umpteen goodbye kisses.”

“I- I do not- Can you blame me? Really?” Blaine spluttered in reply, but Kurt only gave him a gentle smile in response and leant in to plant his lips briefly but tenderly on Blaine's.

“See you on Skype. Alright?”

Blaine let out a long breath as his boyfriend pulled away. “Alright. I love you,” he added when Kurt was in the doorway of the living room. The boy looked back over his shoulder, affection in his eyes and his heart fluttering.

“I love you, too. Bye, sweetheart,” Kurt cooed and, with that, he disappeared from sight.

Over the hum of the television, Blaine heard the front door shut and, less than a second after, the bedroom door upstairs open.

“Blaine? Who were you talking to?”

“Nobody,” the boy replied on a sigh, sitting down on the blanket again. “Nobody to you, anyway,” he added under his breath.