Obviously, Kurt was keeping something from Blaine.

It started off innocently enough: the weird phone calls from his "Aunt Dolores" and the occasional text. But soon Kurt was coming back to Dalton late and ducking out of their dates, mumbling some excuse about "dentist appointments" and "sale at Nordstrom".

Blaine knew for a fact that there was no Nordstrom at Westerville Mall.

So, faced with a dilemma that Blaine had never experienced as a boyfriend (mainly because he'd never been a boyfriend before) he did the only thing he could think of—find Wes and David.

"So," Wes said slowly, as if to clarify. "You want us to spy on Kurt for you."

"Yes! Wait, no," Blaine corrected, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. "No, don't spy on him, he'll think I don't trust him."

"Yeah, 'cuz you coming to us and asking us if we think he's cheating on you is totally trusting," David snorted, grinning at him. Blaine made a faint noise of protest in the back of his throat and slid down further into Wes' bed, shaking his head.

"I don't think he's cheating on me," Blaine argued, resting his head mopily in his hands. "He's just never around and is never free after school and is never in his dorm anymore."

"Well, obviously he's just off picking flowers and serenading the elderly," Wes mocked, pitching his voice high and grinning dopily at the other two. Blaine glared.

"Relax, he's kidding," David consoled him, not sure whether to laugh at or cuddle the curly-haired sophomore. "Kurt would never cheat on you. He looks at you the same way you look at Red Vines!"

Blaine wailed. "Oh, great, so he's going to stick with me for now because I'm exotic and delicious, but as soon as I reach my expiration date he's going to throw me away with the rest of his moldy banana peels and last-season scarves!"

"What David means," Wes interrupted, shooting a heated eye-roll at David. "Is that you and Kurt are totally made for eachother, and you shouldn't let David's horrible metaphors get you down."

"Besides, Kurt's probably just visiting home or something," David added, patting Blaine's shoulder gingerly.

Blaine shot up.

"Oh my god! What if something's wrong at home?" Blaine cried out, pulling on his shoes and racing for Wes' door. "What if his dad is sick again or something, and I've just been sitting here while Kurt is struggling to deal with it? What if he totally hates me because I haven't noticed earlier?"

The door slammed shut behind his short form, and Wes and David looked at eachother and winced. They could still hear Blaine's rants from down the hall.

"I think," Wes started heavily. "That we should maybe spy on Kurt."

David pulled out his phone. "Way ahead of you."

LINE BREAK THING STOPPED WORKING, SO I WILL USE THESE WORDS INSTEAD.

"Kurt," Blaine called tentatively, knocking on the door to Kurt's dorm. He could hear a frantic scrabbling noise, and then Kurt was in the doorway, his face flushed and his clothes wrinkled.

Blaine tried not to think too hard about the subtle implications.

"You okay?" he asked slowly, noticing that Kurt's shirt was buttoned up wrong. "You look… flustered."

"Sorry," Kurt blushed harder, showing Blaine into his room. "I was just changing. Needed to try on some stuff I bought at the mall, but Prada is so not doing it for me this year."

Blaine looked carefully around Kurt's room. Having transferred in the middle of the year, Kurt had been lucky enough to score a single dorm, which meant he had no roommate to monitor his coming and going.

Plus, he had a single bathroom, which would be the perfect place to hide any incriminating evidence like hospital bills or overdrawn credit cards or a secret lover—

No. Not going there.

"So, is everything okay… at home?" Blaine asked carefully, cautious not to set Kurt off. If his dad really was sick, then he would most likely be fragile and shaken up.

"What?" Kurt looked affronted. "Yeah, everything's great. I mean, I still have to go and help out at the garage on weekends, but everything's fine."

Blaine remembered the last time he'd gone with Kurt to Lima over the weekend. Kurt had been fixing up a client's car when Blaine had finally had enough of Kurt taunting him in those overalls and had made out with him in the backseat of said client's car until Burt had found them.

Needless to say, that had been the last time Blaine had been allowed inside the garage.

"Why do you ask?" Kurt interrupted his thoughts, gazing at him intently. Blaine smiled and allowed himself to be swept up by those eyes—were they more blue or green today?

"It's just," Blaine admitted, forced into telling the truth because Kurt was staring endearingly and he was so beautiful and those eyes. "I just feel like you've been really distant lately."

Kurt's face crumpled, and Blaine was immediately cursed himself for making Kurt look like that.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine's hand in his own. "I'm not cheating on you or anything. I just have to do this thing, and I'm sorry it's gotten between us but I'm not cheating, honestly."

"I believe you," Blaine choked out, reaching out and impulsively cupping Kurt's cheeks. He grinned when he felt Kurt lean into his touch. "I didn't think you were cheating on me. I just was worried about you."

"No, everything's fine, I promise," Kurt smiled, gripping Blaine's hand harder. "Besides, if something was wrong, you'd be the first to know. And hey, I think I'm free this Wednesday night, so how about we go to a restaurant?"

Blaine would have hugged him or something, but then Kurt's mouth was covering his and his hands had better things to do.

LINE BREAKS STILL DON'T WORK, BUT HEY, THEY KLISSED SO I DON'T REALLY CARE.

"—and so he's not cheating on me!" Blaine said happily, grinning widely at Wes and David. "And we're going on a date tonight, which is why I called you guys because I can't pick out an outfit."

"Pfft, as if he would ever cheat," David scoffed. "He's Kurt."

"I know, I was just worried for a moment there, but—hold on, I got a text." Blaine fished around in his pocket and finally pulled out his phone, sliding it open and immediately clicking on 'Messages'.

hey Blaine, im really sorry, but something urgent came up and I have to cancel tonight. can I please make it up to you later? :( —Kurt xoxoxo

"Kurt… just canceled on me." Blaine said, realizing that his voice sounded painfully strangled.

Its okay, kurt. Im sure it must be really important. Ill see u tonight, k?—Blaine 3

"Dude, I'm sure it's nothing." Wes soothed, immediately recognizing the hurt look on Blaine's face. It was the one he had worn right after the disastrous Gap Attack, and right after Kurt had told him that Karofsky had kissed him.

"I know, I know," Blaine muttered. "It just hurts, you know?"

David and Wes usually weren't much for hugs, but there were exceptions for everything.

MR. LINE BREAK HERE SAYS HI AND HE IS SINGLE AND THAT HE IS NOT A DOLPHIN.

"Guys!" Wes panted, rushing over to where Blaine and David were sitting at the Warblers' usual lunch table. "Is Kurt here?"

"No, he had to stay late and tutor a new kid in French," Blaine said steadily, training his eyes on his plate as he prodded at his limp spaghetti with his fork.

"Good," Wes started, clapping David on the back heartily. Nearby, Thad and Trent gave him a strange look, so he waved at them sheepishly before turning back to Blaine and David, lowering his voice.

"I think I found out where Kurt's been going."

Blaine nearly choked on his meatball.

"What?" David asked excitedly, whopping Blaine on the back in an effort to get him to stop coughing. Blaine painfully swallowed his food and kicked David's shins. "Ow! I mean, how did you find out?"

"Can't say," Wes smirked. "But it's nothing bad, trust me. Just meet me at Del Pietro's at seven on Friday."

"Del Pietro's?" Blaine asked in confusion, echoing David's thoughts. "That stuffy Italian place? What does that have to do with finding Kurt?"

"Oh, we'll start from there," Wes smirked devilishly, and for a moment Blaine remembered why everybody drew horns on his yearbook photo. "And I promise we'll find Kurt."

IF THERE ARE ANY SINGLE, INTERESTED, FEMALE LINE BREAKS, PLEASE LET HIM KNOW.

Blaine had never been more nervous in his life.

Okay, that was lie. There was that time when he performed at Six Flags in a banana suit and that time he had once blurted out to his French teacher that he was attractive and that time when he had failed his math test and fully expected his father to disown him.

But this was pretty close.

Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he turned and looked at Wes, who was humming happily as he skimmed the menu.

"Why are we here again?" he hissed, sharing a puzzled look with David, who obviously knew as little as Blaine did.

"Can't look for Kurt on an empty stomach," Wes pointed out. "And they have great risotto here."

Which was true. Del Pietro's had a reputation for being the best Italian food outside of Sicily—well, at least in Ohio. Normally, a bowl of soup cost well over thirty dollars, but Wes had assured both of them that he would be taking care of all expenses, so naturally, Blaine and David splurged.

And then their waiter arrived.

"Welcome to Del Pietro's," he said in a semi-bored tone, as if he was trying to force himself to stay positive. He fumbled around in his pocket for a pen. "I'm your waiter for this evening. Can I interest you in our minestrone—oh, God."

Blaine's head had snapped up immediately at the sound of that voice.

It was Kurt.

It was Kurt who was standing there, holding a pad of paper and a pen, with rapidly flushing cheeks and wide doe-eyes and oh holy sweet mother of Katy Perry, was he wearing an apron?

He was. A white, silky looking apron that started at his waist and contrasted beautifully with the black dress shirt and Kurt's milky skin.

"How did you find me?" Kurt managed to whisper, sliding into the empty seat by Blaine and laying his head on the tabletop. Blaine's arms curled around him automatically, pressing Kurt into his side comfortingly.

"Why didn't you tell us you had a job here?" Blaine asked, nuzzling into Kurt's neck.

"Getting a job as a waiter isn't exactly something to boast about," Kurt pointed out, sighing slightly. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Wes stalked you," David said bluntly, holding up his hands in the traditional "I surrender" gesture. "We wanted to know where you've been disappearing to."

"Tuition at Dalton is pretty steep," Kurt mumbled, echoing something Blaine once told him. "And since I can't be at home and help at the garage every night, I had to get a job closer to Dalton so I could still board."

"You could've told us," Wes said, pointing an accusing finger at Kurt even as his voice was soft. "Blaine nearly had an aneurism thinking you were cheating on him."

Kurt blushed. "Not unless you count the ravioli. But I'm really sorry, Blaine… Blaine?" Kurt repeated, shaking his boyfriend's shoulder gently.

Blaine looked up from where he had been ogling Kurt's waist. It wasn't his fault; that apron just fit him so well and it made Kurt's body look slim and hot and—

"Uh, sorry," Blaine said sheepishly. "I have—uh, have to use the restroom. Kurt, can you show me where it is?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow, but pointed towards a small hallway in the back of the restaurant. "Second door on the left."

"I mean," Blaine struggled not to pant as his eyes roamed over Kurt. "Can you show me?"

"Can I—oh. Oh." Kurt suddenly grinned, leaping to his feet and grabbing Blaine by the hand the way Blaine had done when they first met.

Wes and David hid their smirks as the two boys rushed off together, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other guests.

As soon as they were alone, Blaine pushed Kurt roughly against the wall, immediately attacking Kurt's neck and jaw with his lips.

"B-Blaine," Kurt breathed, trying to keep his knees from buckling underneath him.

"Can't—help—it," Blaine ground out, punctuating each word with a sloppy kiss to Kurt's jugular. "So damn hot right now."

"Blaine," Kurt hissed again, grabbing Blaine's hair—he had picked the right night to leave it curly—and dragging his face up, immediately attaching his lips to Blaine's. "Mmm, don't stop, but, why now?"

Blaine growled in want, hands roaming all over Kurt's torso before finally settling on his hips, pulling the taller boy even closer to his own body. He went back to ravishing Kurt's neck, taking pleasure in all the breathy, whimpering noises that Kurt was making.

"It's the apron."