I feel like I made this way too cute.

"Getting started without me?"

"I can't wait around for you forever, Anderson," Kurt said, looking away from the lock he was picking for a second to shoot Blaine an unimpressed look. "These jockstraps aren't gonna fill themselves with itching powder, you know."

"Well excuse me for trying to be stealthy as I finished part one of our mission," Blaine said, coming up next to Kurt to wrap a leather-clad arm around his waist and smack a quick kiss to his cheek. "It's hard determining which Cheerios' shampoo bottles I'm supposed to spike and which ones we're leaving alone when they don't think to put name tags on all of their products."

"I told you, Britt uses L'Oreal Kids and Santana's products have Spanish labels," Kurt said, finally jimmying open the stubborn locker he was working on. "How was that hard to figure out?"

"Because Sue got them all special Cheerios-logo bottles, so I had to go through the rest of their stuff to figure out whose locker was whose. Did you know Britt has an entire family of hamsters living on the top shelf of her gym locker?"

Kurt just stopped and stared at his boyfriend incredulously.

"Don't give me that look, Hummel, you know you're not all that surprised," Blaine said, grabbing the shaker bottle of itching powder from Kurt's hands. He gingerly removed the jockstrap from the locker Kurt had just broken into and started applying it liberally.

"Blaine! Gross," Kurt squealed. "You're not wearing any gloves!"

"I'm being careful."

"I know you won't get that shit on yourself, but just think of where that jockstrap's been!" Kurt said, shuddering away. "You're going to get some kind of fungus now, probably."

"I thought Coach Beiste made it a rule that everyone had to wash their stuff at least once a week, though?" Blaine said, looking vaguely afraid nonetheless.

"Still. Some of these boys barely know how to brush their teeth, much less utilize proper hygiene," Kurt sniffed.

"Ugh, God, you're right. Hand me some gloves?" Blaine asked, smiling winningly at Kurt.

"You're such a pain in the ass," Kurt said under his breath, handing Blaine one of the two pairs of disposable gloves he'd brought anyways.

Blaine chucked the jockstrap back in the locker and went to wash his hands in the nearby sink quickly before putting his gloves on. "Ready, Dr. Hummel?" he teased, holding his hands up like a surgeon.

"Whenever you are, Nurse Anderson," Kurt fired back, unable to keep the dopey smile off his face. Blaine may have an eyebrow piercing and a perpetual smell of smoke despite the fact that he'd never actually held a cigarette before, but somehow he was also genuinely cute in his mannerisms. If Kurt wasn't dating him, he'd probably be tempted to harass him constantly.

"Here's to you, asshole jocks and Cheerios," Blaine said, closing the first locker as Kurt got to work breaking open the second. "Maybe next time you'll think twice about filling our gas tanks with slushies and writing homophobic messages on our bumpers with your atrocious lipstick."

"You're awarding them far too much brain power, darling," Kurt said, stepping back and letting Blaine dust up the next jockstrap.

"It's the optimist in me."

The boys settled into a groove after their banter subsided, quickly going through and powdering the jockstraps of every boy on the football team (except for Finn's and the other glee boys', of course, much as they had avoided the Cheerios who were also glee clubbers) before the bell signaling the end of the day rang.

"Good work, babe," Blaine said, stripping off his gloves.

"I can't wait to see their faces tomorrow," Kurt said, ditching his own gloves and hiding both pairs back in his bag. He'd throw them out at home, where they'd look less incriminating - he used the same kind when he was re-dying his hair, so Finn and his dad would just assume he'd been touching up the pink and turquoise streaks he was currently sporting.

Blaine linked his arm with Kurt's as they walked toward their respective vehicles, and Kurt couldn't help but shiver in the chilly late-October breeze.

"You're gonna have to give up the fishnet shirts soon, babe," Blaine said, smirking as Kurt huddled closer to his warmth.

"I'm tougher than an Ohio autumn, Blaine," Kurt said.

His words would have been more compelling had he not nearly buried his face in Blaine's neck afterwards when a particularly strong gust of wind hit them.

"Here," Blaine said, prying Kurt off so he could take off his jacket and hand it over. "Purple only looks good as a hair color on you."

Kurt wrapped himself in Blaine's jacket gratefully, smiling in contentment when he caught a lingering whiff of Blaine's cologne. "You're going soft on me, Anderson."

"The goofy smile on your face makes me think you love it, Hummel," Blaine fired back, though he was smiling just as brightly as Kurt.

"God, we can never let anyone know how sappy we are when we're alone," Kurt said, thankful that no one else liked to park in the back lot at McKinley. "Imagine what Santana would do."

"Hey, just remember - only a year and a half left here, and then we can reinvent ourselves however we want in New York," Blaine said, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Kurt's waist. Kurt hooked his own arms over Blaine's shoulders as he continued, "We could be the sappiest, preppiest couple of gays in the whole city. I could wear bow ties and cardigans, and you could add scarves to every outfit."

Kurt was silent for a minute as he pictured that image. Then both boys burst into hysterical laughter.

"Oh my God, we'd be ridiculous," Kurt said, wiping away tears.

"We can probably skip that look," Blaine agreed, still snorting lightly.

They were still giggling as they got into their cars (or, well, as Kurt hopped in his Navigator and Blaine got on his motorcycle) and headed home.

The next day, Kurt kept fidgeting through his morning classes as he waited for lunchtime. Normally he and Blaine would head out under the bleachers for a little stress relief, but they shared a lunch period with all of the football jocks, and the itching powder should be kicking in right about the time the bell rang. They'd already seen Cheerios sporting hats and shoddily bleached haircuts that morning, much to their delight.

"Hey, babe!" Blaine called as Kurt walked into the cafeteria, waving an arm from his table in the back corner. Kurt happily made his way over to Blaine, kissing him softly before digging into the food Blaine had gotten for both of them.

"Are you just as excited as I am?" Kurt asked once he'd swallowed, curling into the arm Blaine had wrapped around his shoulder. "I hope Azimio thinks it's some kind of rare disease."

"We can probably convince him it's ball cancer," Blaine said, snatching a fry. He wouldn't look away from the doors, making Kurt pout playfully.

"Hey. Pay attention to me," he said, pulling Blaine in for another kiss. "We won't miss those knuckledraggers. I'm positive they'll make a scene as they enter."

"Bossy," Blaine teased, pulling Kurt into his lap.

"You love it when I'm the boss," Kurt said, fisting his hands in Blaine's hair and putting their foreheads together.

"It's a two-way street, Hummel," Blaine said before leaning into Kurt's neck and doing that thing with his mouth that made Kurt want to collapse into a puddle of hair product and eyeliner, which he simply couldn't allow.

They got so caught up in their battle for dominance that they would have missed the jocks' entrance entirely were it not for Azimio and three of the other players all simultaneously dropping their trays and howling when the powder kicked in as they were midway through the lunch line. Kurt and Blaine spent the rest of the period alternating between hysterical laughter and filming it all for posterity.