Author's Note: This has been on the back-burner for quite a while, now. I had it all planned out before I had even finished ALSWLR, but had promised myself I'd only get serious about it when I'd written ALL the sequels to that first one.
That'll teach me.
And I desperately wanted to write a silly little Rom-Com-esque piece, but PLOT, you know. Kinda got in the way. Still, Pretty Woman.

Blaine is wonderful.

He is attentive (if a little misguided), affectionate (if not the most spontaneous), charming (if a little too polyamorous) and perfect, and wonderful.

They are the perfect couple. They must be; after all, they have perfect synchrony of taste and opinions; they have been known to finish each other's sentences and show up at a date already color coordinated, without previous planning.

Kurt is immensely lucky.

He must be.

He doesn't feel so lucky now, though. Blaine is still wonderful, and still pulling away from him fast enough to give Kurt a complex. Kurt has never felt less wonderful, less lucky, less perfect as when he is sitting on Blaine's bed, clad in the less restrictive outfit he could put together. He is absurdly conscious of his overpriced and overly tight choice of underwear.

"But –"

"Kurt, we've talked about this. You need to be comfortable."

"But –"

"There's no need to rush. We have all the time in the world."
"But –"

"Besides, I have to be up insanely early tomorrow." He shakes one finger at Kurt. "You usually have better timing than this."

Kurt gnaws on his lower lip, drawing his knees up to his chest.

"I thought –"

"I thought you were only here to help me pack." He gives Kurt a lopsided smile, numbing the sting of rejection slightly.

"I wanted to give you a proper… send-off." Encouraged by Blaine's playful expression, Kurt inches over to the edge of the bed. He licks his lips, trying to roll his shoulders seductively. Blaine looks at him strangely.

"Does your back hurt?"

Kurt plops down on the bed face first, groaning. Blaine scrunches his brow and turns back to the closet, shaking his head slowly all the while. Kurt lifts his head just high enough to peer at Blaine's bustling shape through his fingers. He sighs into the comforter and shakes himself. So what if he bought new underwear? He does it all the time. Granted he doesn't spend two hours browsing through online catalogs, looking for something that will effectively turn Blaine on and not away, but still. Blaine is a gentleman, and Kurt loves him for it. He tells himself sternly that this isn't Blaine not wanting him; this is his boyfriend loving him too much to ruin things by rushing into anything they might not be ready for.

It does irk Kurt a little that Blaine will automatically assume that Kurt's opinion on the matter matches his own point for point, but that's just who Blaine is. He just wants the best for everyone, and it's perfectly normal to consider what you think it's best to be the ultimate solution. Similarly, Kurt really thinks that the solution to this standstill would be Blaine dropping that hideous spotted bowtie and coming over to push Kurt down on the bed to just ravish him. Properly.

Kurt isn't quite sure what ravishing will entail, but he knows that Blaine's room is always abnormally hot, and his underwear is ridiculously tight and Blaine keeps bending over his suitcase in nothing but an undershirt and his worn grey sweatpants. All these factors combined make Kurt very aware that he, at least, is very much ready for whatever Blaine might want to dish out.

Blaine puts away the bowtie with loving care and his eyes flash to the bed for a second as his hand wavers over one of his drawers. Kurt furrows his brow in confusion; then Blaine pulls it open and he can feel himself flushing red all over. He has to blink and press his lips together in order to keep himself from looking away.

It is no wonder Blaine keeps treating him as if he's been crafted out of delicate china; he can't even glance at his boyfriend's underwear drawer without it setting off his spontaneous combustion triggers.

Maybe he's just that hopeless. The pathetic paragon of eternal virginity.

"Kurt?"

The drawer is closed now, and every item out of sight. Kurt lowers his eyes, playing with his shirtsleeve; he feels the mattress dipping but keeps his eyes stubbornly fixed on the bedspread.

"Kurt. Hey."

"What?" he snaps, instantly regretting his tone when Blaine blinks rapidly and draws his hand back from where it had been hovering over Kurt's shoulder.

"You know I only want the best for you. For us," Blaine is quick to add when Kurt opens his mouth to retort. "Do you really want our first time to be all rush and fumbling because I'm stressing over the flight?"

Kurt's eyebrows meet in a furrowed line. Of course, no one in their right mind would want that. But he had thought of tonight as a last chance before an entire ocean was to surge between them for two unbearably long months.

"It's just… you've been so busy with the Warblers' mini-tour, and then there was that two-week internship at your father's firm –"

"I thought we'd agreed it would look good on my college applications," says Blaine defensively.

"Of course, I know it will, but… I thought we would have the weekends, at least, but then you started volunteering at that nursing home –"

"So now you don't believe in giving back? The staff at Eternal Sunshine are really hard working, for such small wages. I thought you'd be proud."

Kurt makes a face at the reproachful tone but schools his features in order to appear properly abashed.

"I am. I love how invested you always are."

Blaine gives him a small, encouraging smile.

"But?"

But I wish you could be this invested with me.

Kurt shrugs as if shaking off the whole issue. Blaine smiles again, brightly; there's that tug to Kurt's insides, the tug he has labeled with "Actual Butterflies" a long time ago.

He holds on to that feeling when the four packs of condoms (and he had been so terrified over picking them out, mind reeling with the possibility of them being wrong in ways Kurt could not fathom) spilled out of his bag onto the floor by Blaine's doorway.

He brings back those timid flutters when Blaine laughs suddenly and too loud in the empty hallway.

Kurt pulls and pulls at the feeling when Blaine shakes his head and calls him "just too adorable"; he refuses to look around for a rabbit hole when his boyfriend finally stifles his chuckles and sends him off with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a condescending "You really went all out, didn't you?"

He throws the too bright, too colorful packs away when he takes out the garbage.

He texts Blaine good night as soon as he gets into bed; then he turns off his phone and rolls into an humiliated ball under his covers.

Butterflies are fragile little beings and there's only so much pinning they can withstand, after all.

"Sexual education."

He repressed a smirk when David choked on his drink. It served him right for not asking for Diet.

"In the most literal sense of the phrase," he continued. "I'm in need of education."

Dave kept gaping at him, alarmingly fish-like.

"You mean like, condoms and stuff, right? Want to throw Blah an old-fashioned Welcum Home party by the end of the summer?"

Kurt showed his disproval at both Dave's misuse of Blaine's name and the lackluster pun by snagging his glass and drinking the contents in one gulp.

"Hey!" The other boy smirked. "Think of what that will do to your complexion, Kurt."

Kurt slammed the glass down, sitting up straighter with a manic gleam in his eye. Dave gulped.

"You can be taught. Excellent!"

"… why?"

"Well, that means you can teach."

"Teach what?"

"Sexual relations."

Dave choked again, this time with a painfully dry sound.

"What in the actual fuck."

Kurt clasped his hands together, grinning delightedly.

"Fabulous! Thank you, David, thank you so much, I'll owe you a life debt after this." He tilted his head. "Well, not life per se, I'll need it for sexual purposes. Blaine and I never discussed it in depth, but I don't believe he would be all that on board with necrophilia."

Dave stared at him for a long moment; then, all too suddenly for the well-being of Kurt's heart, he let out an explosive kind of laugh that had the table shaking and Kurt mildly wary for the health of his eardrums. The volume eventually died down, but Dave was still shaking with fits of chuckles, finally burrowing his head in his arms. Kurt could not suppress a giggle at that; he patted the jock's back gingerly with only three fingers, his lips curving amusedly whenever Dave would hiccup into his hands.

"It was hardly worth the display, but it's flattering, very flattering," he said finally, causing the other boy to peer up at him with an unabashed smile.

Kurt eyed him wonderingly, suddenly very aware of the sixth bullet point on his "Mentoring Dave Karofsky" list: "Get him a boyfriend ASAP". The former bully had been working persistently on his anger issues, and not only that. The sound volume of his admissions to his own sexual orientation were increasing from low whispers over the phone to an actual screaming match with Kurt in the soundproof basement; it had eventually ended with both of them red faced and lost in hysterics. The aversion to Diet Coke had to be worked on, of course, but that smile and the ease with which he let himself be ordered around by Kurt was auspicious.

He usually tuned out Dave's whining about how he wasn't ready yet, and how he didn't even know what he would do with a guy, and that Santana had never been that much trouble. Kurt had become increasingly aware of Dave's body issues – which almost rivaled his own – and a little flirting and casual dating would do him no harm. However, Dave would usually shut him up by reminding him of how Kurt had to drive all the way to Westerville to get his own man.

Kurt was pulled out of his musings by the sound of Dave's throat clearing.

"You mean like with cucumbers and bananas and shit? That kind of Sex Ed?"

"Not really. I know the basic outline, I have… pamphlets," he said, pressing his lips together with the remembrance of embarrassment. "I have the theory, but no practice."

Dave went a little red at the mention of practice, but soldiered on. He always did, was always pushing through his own barriers, fumbling and skidding all the way, and had been making Kurt so proud of him.

"Fuck, Kurt. I just –" He swallowed. "I don't get why you'd come to me for this. I don't even get what is it that you want."

"I told you. I'm in dire need of practical education."

"About gay sex."

"Abut sex, David," Kurt said with a hint of reproach. He always wondered at how forthright he could be whenever he put on his metaphorical mentoring robe. "Sex between two gay men, yes. You wouldn't label sex between a heterosexual couple as 'het sex', would you?"

"Actually yes, I kinda would," David snapped, and Kurt took the hit gracefully. Dave hated it when he got preachy, even though he was pretty sure Dave wouldn't, actually.

"Fine. But will you help me?"

"I don't know the first thing about gay sex," he said dejectedly, but he was smirking around the words, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You watch porn."

Dave started stuttering a denial but Kurt held up his hand.

"I've been through your laptop, Dave, honestly. You'd think someone as paranoid and far down in the closet as you have been would remember to clean their history."

"My parents don't believe in prying," Dave said, shooting Kurt a dry look. "Besides, it's password protected. You said you just needed to check your Facebook wall."

Kurt shrugged, looking up innocently and biting off a grin.

"I got curious. Besides," he continued in his most obnoxiously wise guru voice, making Dave groan and look up in annoyance, "you should keep no secrets from me, David."

"That how you justify snooping around in my room?"

"You should feel flattered; I wouldn't dare investigate Finn's computer. I've heard retinas take longer than eyebrows to grow back."

Dave grumbled something Kurt chose not to understand.

"Will you?"

"What?"

"Teach me."

"Because I watch porn."

"Exactly."

"And you think porn is a reliable source of information."

"Isn't it?"

"Hum. Let's just say that, based on locker room insight alone, I had thought I had no reason to feel inadequate until the first time I watched me some."

Kurt stared at him in deep confusion until the meaning struck home. He could feel the blood rushing up his neck to paint his cheeks and ears a violent red; Dave snorted and looked away.

At times he couldn't for his life figure out why did he put up with the likes of Dave Karofsky.

From still shaking head to toe whenever there was a letterman jacket in sight, he had found himself inviting David into his house – and, all the more shockingly, when there was no one else there, too.

Everyone liked Dave well enough at Casa Hudson-Hummel. Carole smiled whenever he hurried to help her with the groceries; Finn kept borrowing him to butcher zombies, or aliens, or whatever poor unknown species they got a kick out of beating into a green pulp; even his dad had become inordinately fond of him – his dad who had seemed pretty incensed when Kurt first brought up his self-appointed mentoring session. Ever since the beginning of summer vacations Kurt had, more often than not, dropped by the garage only to find Dave's sneakered feet peeking from underneath a car, and his father leaning casually against the side of it, droning out instructions patiently.

It was a little unnerving, to be honest. Nevertheless, whenever Finn would clap Dave's back amicably in one of those primal male gestures of friendship that Kurt had not managed to grasp yet, Kurt's heart would clench at the shocked look on Dave's face.

They had known from the first that David would never be allowed to step inside Kurt's house unless the "extenuatory clause" – as Kurt had deemed it – was made known to the whole family. They had so far managed to keep it from Rachel even though she seemed to always be there; every now and then Kurt would have to smuggle an inappropriately amused Dave into the basement, trusting Finn to distract Rachel by whatever means necessary. He had learnt to avoid showing his disapproval at their explicit PDA ever since Dave had borne it as his mission in the world to tease Kurt mercilessly about his former misguided crush on the quarterback. Never mind that Kurt actually had a boyfriend now; along with the occasional jibe at Blaine, Dave seemed to find an endless source of amusement in mocking Kurt's past infatuations.

It seemed as if just a little while ago he had been twitching all the way throughout Algebra II, simply because Santana had abruptly let him know that she had other stuff to take care of other than walking Kurt's pert little teenage gay ass all over school and that Karofsky would be taking over for the day. T

The other boy had barely said two words to him that first day – and those had been more like grunts, if Kurt was to be completely honest.

On the second day he had gotten a grumbled "Morning" and a barely audible "See ya", which he had counted as enormous progress.

It wasn't until Thursday, when Kurt had his mind full of Blaine and boutonnières and non-traditional prom outfits that Dave had peeked, no, actually burst through the wall of silence with a break down that still gave Kurt the most acute twinges of sadness.

He supposed they had bonded over those walks, especially when Dave insisted to keep up with his Bullywhip's duties even after Santana dropped the whole thing after the prom fiasco. And then Kurt had to go and dub himself Dave's mentor on the path to owning his sexual orientation.

He still wasn't sure how it had all evolved into this kind of bantering friendship, though he supposed it helped that Dave had it so easy at making him laugh.

So really, it did make sense that he would ask this of Dave. He could only do this with 1) a boy, 2) a gay boy, 3) a gay boy that he knew. Which, all things considered, narrowed his options to his boyfriend, his boyfriend's ex-crush and his apprentice.

Blaine had excluded himself by being insufferably obnoxious when it came to Kurt's virtue and by eagerly jumping at the chance of a two-month vacation travelling throughout Europe (of which Kurt was not at all jealous). Jeremiah – and just the thought of the name could still make Kurt's teeth grind together painfully – was out, for glaringly obvious reasons.

And then Dave.

Dave who kept looking at him warily as if Kurt had recently broken out of an asylum through unknown yet terrifying means.

"But will you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't know how to answer that without getting slapped."

Kurt pouted and crossed his arms.

"Figures. You give your all to help the unfortunates, but the moment you are the one in need…"

Dave leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes skyward.

"Really? You're gonna play the guilt card on this?"

Kurt glanced at him from under his eyelashes, going for childlike and pitiful.

"Da-ve…"

The jock scowled, the corners of his mouth twisting sourly. Kurt gave a little dejected sigh and then jumped out of his seat when Dave got up abruptly, almost toppling over his chair.

"Fine," he gritted out. "I'll think about it but –"

Kurt immediately dropped all pretense and threw himself into his arms; when Dave failed to respond he drew back, blushing at his own boldness. Hugging was no habit of his, specially not if it involved non-family members who were not of the boyfriend or closest-friend denomination. And now Dave was obviously uncomfortable, all after he had just agreed to the greatest favor Kurt had ever asked of anyone.

"S-sorry, I didn't –"

"Look," Dave's tone dropped immediately to a more serious register. "I'm making no promises here, okay? I'll think it through and then I'll call you. There's gotta be – you gotta have rules, I need – we need rules, and lines and –"

"Yes, yes, yes, thank you so much David, I can't tell you how much I –"

"Shut up, c'mon, I told you I'd think about it," but now he was smiling, small and tight, but a smile nonetheless.

Kurt felt like hugging him again but refrained. Maybe physical contact just wasn't the thing for this friendship.

He smiled as he waved at Dave's car driving off and couldn't help a little skip to his step as he walked back into the house.

Blaine would be so surprised.