“So, I was thinking,” Kurt says, pausing to take a sip of his lukewarm non-fat mocha, trying to warm himself as the ruthless city breezes whip around him, chilling him even through his multiple thick layers, “that for our next date we could go for a picnic in Central Park. Or maybe have lunch. There's this great little diner right by where I work. I would love for you to try it.”

Another breeze swirls up the arm of Kurt's coat and he shivers, pulling closer to Blaine and huddling against him, trying to chase his warmth, but the cold must have gotten to him as well since he doesn't seem to have any. Kurt admires how Blaine can brace himself against the cold night air and not appear at all affected by it.

“That sounds great,” Blaine says in a less than enthusiastic tone, “really…but I'm kind of an evening person.”

Blaine feels Kurt deflate a little at his answer.

“I know, I know,” Kurt says, bobbing his head in a slight nod against Blaine's neck. “It's just…it's getting so much colder now, and these late nights are killing me.”

Blaine smiles, leaning his head to rest on Kurt's as they approach the doorway to Kurt's loft.

“I know,” Blaine says, “and I am very sorry.” He sighs as he feels Kurt sink further against him, preparing for another no-compromise response. Blaine knows that if he doesn't give more, this relationship might end before he gets what he wants. “Look,” he says, turning into Kurt's embrace, “I'll try to find a way of rearranging things around so I can see you earlier. Maybe twilight? Sunset?” Kurt raises his eyes to look into Blaine's, more hopeful now that it seems that Blaine is trying to meet him half-way. “I care about you,” Blaine says quietly, the words hanging peculiarly heavy in the air around them, “very much. I want this to work for us.”

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt says, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me.”

Blaine holds Kurt tight and breathes him deep, all the scents of the evening mixing in that one inhale, and Blaine carefully picks out the elements he longs for – vanilla from Kurt's shampoo, the peppermint and mocha from his coffee, and the warm, sweet but also spicy signatures of Kurt's blood. Blaine's lips part as he inhales the scent through his mouth so that it can linger on his tongue. He runs his tongue over the tips of lengthening fangs, the sharp pierce against his flesh warning him to settle down, break away, come back before the lust can take hold. Their relationship is only new, after all, and Kurt is far from ready to be told the truth. Hundreds of years Blaine has watched Kurt reborn, has tracked him down over continents and wooed him, just to suffer rejection when he rushed into trying to change him too soon. But now, there will be no rejection.

Blaine is tired of waiting.

But he would have to a little longer, and then he can finally turn his beloved into an evening person, too.