"Got you something."

They sat at the end of Blaine's bed, Kurt with his legs crossed beneath him. He raised his eyebrows at the gift, which was covered in jelly-bean wrapping paper. "What's the occasion?"

"Um... two week anniversary?"

"It was three weeks, two days ago."

"Then it's my 'I'm sorry I'm a lousy boyfriend and forgot' gift?"

"I'll take it."

Kurt smirked as he carefully peeled off the scotch tape and stuck the pieces on the side of his thumb. It helped that Blaine was clearly an expert at wrapping gifts. Kurt folded the wrapping paper along the creases to make a neat stack and set it to the side. The box was cardboard, long and slender. He popped the top off to reveal a fringed, very soft-looking, deep mahogany scarf. He gasped a little on inhale, which made Blaine smile.

"Do you like it?"

"I've never met a scarf I didn't like," he breathed. "Would you?" he asked, offering the box.

"Of course." Blaine extracted the scarf from the folds of the tissue paper and, as Kurt leaned forward, draped it around his neck.

"How do I look?" he asked, his shoulders reaching for his earlobes.

"Beautiful." He tugged lightly on the scarf to pull his boyfriend in for a kiss. Kurt smiled against his lips, still feeling that "new relationship" tingle. He couldn't believe he'd gone so long without kissing these lips. When they drew back, Kurt sighed happily and turned to lean back against his chest. Blaine wrapped his arms around him and laced their fingers. They sat still and silent for a few moments, reveling in their quiet solitude, until Kurt spoke up.

"Do you think we'll ever be able to do this in public?"

"What, wear scarves?"

He could feel Blaine smile against his cheek, but Kurt was decidedly somber. "I'm serious," he said quietly. He turned enough to look Blaine in the eyes without leaving the solace of his embrace. "When I was nine, I watched this soap opera..." He paused to let Blaine laugh at him, but he only got a smile that didn't show any sign of surprise. He continued, "I loved the forbidden love stories, but my most favorite was when the respectable police commissioner started living with a known criminal. They spent almost an entire year falling in love." Kurt peeled the tape off his thumb and folded it into a small triangle that he flicked into the corner of the room. "When they finally got together, what they wanted to do more than anything was to go out to the most popular restaurant in town and make a big show of leaning across the table, holding hands, being romantic..." Kurt drew a finger up and down Blaine's arm wistfully as he spoke. "They just wanted to rub it in everyone's faces, everyone who told them that they had no business being in love."

"I think we rubbed it in everyone's faces at Regionals," Blaine said, sounding thoughtful and even a little wounded.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, rolling his head back to rest on Blaine's shoulder, "but... whenever we go out, just the two of us... I feel like we're always hiding the fact that we're dating, like we have to pretend we're just good friends so we won't get the looks, the whispers..."

"Are you saying you want the looks and whispers?"

"I'm just saying we shouldn't care, that's all. I'm sorry, I know I'm being kind of stupid."

Blaine released his hold on Kurt to stand up from the bed. Kurt felt a small panic in the pit of his stomach when he left the room without a word. "Blaine, I'm sorry! Please come back! Ugh, and people say I'm the drama queen," he muttered to himself, falling back to sink into the massive fortress of pillows at the head of the bed. They smelled strongly of Blaine's hair gel and a little bit like Kurt's own cologne. He stared up at the freckles on the ceiling, caught in his own head with a voice screaming stupid! stupid! stupid!

But then he heard it—a G-sharp chord coming from the other room. The strumming got steadily louder as the chord changed to a D-sharp. Kurt lifted his head from the pillows to spy the neck of Blaine's guitar peeking through the door frame, fingers pressing heavily against the strings beside a capo on the first fret. The sinking feeling Kurt had felt turned floaty as more and more of the guitar came into sight, followed by Blaine himself, strumming as happily as he looked. Kurt sighed with relief.

"People are talking," Blaine began to sing, rolling smoothly back and forth between a low rumble and a higher pitch with each line, "talkin' 'bout people, I hear them whisper...YOU won't believe it!" He bobbed his head at Kurt, who practically catapulted from the pillows and landed on his knees, crawling along the head of the bed evocatively.

"They think we're lovers," he continued, an octave higher than Blaine. He pulled the sheets up to his nose and sang from behind the hem, eyes shifting theatrically, "kept undercover. I just ignore it, but they keep saying we..."

"Laugh just a little too loud," Blaine picked up, sitting on the edge of the bed. Kurt pulled up alongside him, nudging Blaine's shoulder a bit with his own.

"Stand just a little too close..."

"We stare just a little too long..." Blaine made appropriately dramatic, fluttering eyes at his boyfriend across the fretboard. "Maybe they're seeing something we don't, darling! " Kurt joined him for the chorus, improvising some harmonies. "Let's give 'em something to talk about, let's give 'em something to talk about, let's give 'em something to talk about, how about love? "

Blaine suddenly stopped strumming, but he doo-wopped in place of it for the interlude as he whipped the strap from off of his shoulders and placed the guitar down on the bed. He stood up and, grabbing one of his hands, took Kurt with him. He pulled them through the doorway (snatching his keys and wallet with his free hand and slipping them into his blazer pocket on the way out) and practically skipped into the hallway.

"I feel so foolish," he resumed, switching awkwardly from scat back to lead. Kurt supplied the obligatory back-up vocals as they ran hand-in-hand up the hallway, down the staircase, and across the green.

"Uh-huh! "

"I never noticed, you'd act so nervous..."

"Uh-huh! "

"COULD you be falling for me? "

They began drawing a lot of attention from scattered students who stopped studying or playing Frisbee long enough to spy the two Warblers frolicking through the center of campus like they were in a silly music video. Kurt blushed faintly, wondering if the attention was more for their unorthodox concert or for their hand-holding. Blaine had a positively unaffected attitude.

"It took a rumor to make me wonder. NOW I'm convinced I'm GOING under!" he bellowed, making what Kurt and the other Warblers typically referred to as "Blaine stage faces." He spun on his toes until he was facing Kurt, forcing himself to walk backwards through the front gates and down the sidewalk. He pulled Kurt along with one hand and snapped a beat with the fingers on his other. Kurt laughed, feeling like he was in the opening of West Side Story, but with an entirely different premise.

"Thinking 'bout you every day..." Blaine sang, vocals tranquil again.

"Dreaming 'bout you every night..." Kurt cut in. Blaine yanked Kurt forward and pressed his cheek to the side of his face.

"I'm hoping that you feel the same waaay," he murmured low against Kurt's ear, pressing a light kiss to the outside of it before finishing the end of the verse with gusto, "Now that we know it, LET'S really show it, darling!" Kurt joined him again for the chorus as they made their way down the street, now grabbing the attention of passing drivers and a few gawking old folks lounging on their front lawns.

"Let's give 'em something to talk about, a little mystery to figure out, let's give 'em something to talk about, how about love, love, love? "

They both doo-wopped their way through the guitar solo, which neither of them knew well enough to really get away with it successfully. Kurt was too delirious with pride and sheer joy to be bothered by it. Just before the instrumental intermission ended, Blaine pulled open the doors to some building and lead them inside. Kurt hadn't even noticed this whole time they'd been making their way to the Lima Bean until his lungs filled with the familiar smell of fresh coffee grinds. He panicked a little (this time, in an entirely good way) when Blaine pulled them right into the center of the floor and started stomping and clapping his hands to what was unmistakably the percussive rhythm of the bridge. Kurt made a mental note to later suggest that Blaine audition for STOMP.

"Let's give 'em something to talk about, babe!" Blaine looked around at his fellow Lima Bean compatriots expectantly. It took them a few measures, and some initial baffled glances to each other, to join him (if reluctantly) with the clapping. "A little mystery to figure out! Let's give 'em something to talk about, how about love?"

Kurt watched with wide, bright eyes as Blaine neared the finish ("Mm, listen up baby! A little mystery won't hurt!"). He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry or kiss Blaine square on the mouth in front of a dozen (no, there were definitely at least two dozen) highly-caffeinated witnesses. He settled for twirling the fringes of his new scarf around his index finger. A small half-circle of patrons were gathering around Blaine, mostly kids their age who had their phones out taking pictures and video. Kurt was suddenly reminded of "the GAP Attack," but this time, Blaine wasn't approaching some unappreciative shaggy-haired blonde boy to deliver the final notes of the song. He was headed straight for Kurt.

"Let's give 'em something to talk about, how about my love?"