Tension and Silly Love Songs, a glee fanfic

I typically don't do dedications or anything of the sort, but this is for a follower of mine on another site as she sparked the idea by saying 'Someone should write this!' It's not entirely what she said should be written (it took a mind of its own by the middle), but I still love the amount of fluff!Klaine that's in this.

I will also admit that there are references to outside sources, including the bit about Makkenzie, Blaine's sister. (Makkenzie is to star in a fanfic I'm currently plotting right now.) It's a little rusty since this is my first Glee fic, but I did try!

Disclaimer: I only wish I was involved with Glee. I just sit here and write fanfiction. I also don't own the songs "Misery" by Maroon 5 and the Tufts Beezlebubs' cover of Robin Thicke's "When I Get You Alone".

"No, Dad, it's okay. I understand."

As much as he hated to admit it, Kurt Hummel did understand why he couldn't come home that weekend. His father, Burt, was on the other end of the phone call - in Lima, Kurt miserably repeated to himself - and trying to make excuses for something he couldn't control.

"You know I don't want to go, Kurt."

"You have to. As Carole's new husband, you're obligated to go."

"It's a funeral for her great aunt," Burt replied, an equal amount of misery in his voice.

Kurt sighed on the inside, pressing his fingers to his temple. His large single suite was in a state of disarray from the Warblers practice the night before. The fact that it wasn't impeccably clean was bothering Kurt but not nearly as much as the conversation at hand. If his dad kept up this excuse game, the Warblers' campus lock-in rules be damned, Kurt was going to take Blaine's car, drive to Lima, Ohio, force his dad into reasonable and decent funeral clothing, and send him to that funeral.

Surely Blaine would understand.

"Was this great aunt and Carole close?" Kurt tried. The alarm clock next to his bed told him it was nearly time for classes. He had already missed breakfast due to this somewhat annoying conversation. It had started off simple enough - pleasentries, 'How are you?'s, 'What have you been up to lately?'s - when Burt had said, "Hey, listen Kurt, we won't be home this weekend..."

An hour had passed and Kurt was growing more and more impatient. Somehow, his dad had detected the sadness in Kurt's carefully masked voice when Kurt first said he'd be fine staying on campus that weekend. Somehow, this meant that Burt needed to try and get out of the funeral in Buffalo so Kurt could come home.

Somehow, Kurt realized in the back of his mind that staying for the weekend would be fine admist the denying of his dad's excuses. He went home most weekends; the weekends he stayed were usually spent catching up on TV shows, homework, and hanging out with Blaine, who almost never went home despite having a car. Kurt knew that he was upset because he had plans with Mercedes to go to the mall in Columbus so she could refresh her wardrobe for the upcoming spring

"Yeah, they were, but-"

"How close, Dad?"

Kurt took a few cleansing breaths as he listened to Burt ask Carole. The fact that Carole promptly burst into tears on the other end was clearly evident and Kurt's mind starting whirring. He needed to wrap up this conversation now.

"Dad, I hear her. Give Carole a hug for me."

"So what are you saying?"

"Was she rich?"

Burt paused. "Carole said that she already had everything paid for in advance. Her cousin told her that the funeral could have cost, easily, fifty thousand dollars and that the casket's got real gold on it. That's with her life insurance."

Kurt nearly threw the phone in frustration. He knew there was a reason he found the cirriculum at McKinley a little too easy for the average junior.

"Dad, if she's rich and was close to Carole, then she's most likely going to give Carole money. It'd be in her will. So how would you look if you didn't go and then got all this money from what she left to Carole in her will?"

"Oh."

There was light knocking on Kurt's door, and he rushed over from where he was sitting on the bed to open it. David was on the other side giving Kurt a concerned look. Fifteen minutes to class, and he was still in his sleep clothes.

"Look, Dad, just promise me you'll find a suit that fits and is relatively black so you don't look out of place. I'm not there to make sure of this, so all I'm going to do is hope that you find something. I've got class in a few minutes and I've got to go. Love you, bye."

Kurt had ushered in David by this point and to let off some frustration that was still boiling, Kurt roughly shoved his iPhone onto the charger sticking out of his laptop.

"You do realize class is in fifteen minutes?" David asked. Kurt only gave him an incredulous look.

"I've been on the phone for an hour, trying to convince my dad that if he goes to a funeral for my stepmother's family this weekend, I'd be fine on campus." Thank Christian Dior that he had the sense to put out a uniform set before her went to sleep last night, despite being dead tired.

David opened his mouth to say something before turning away so Kurt didn't feel as embarassed. All of the Warblers held a certain sense of brotherhood amongst each other, which included partial nudity. It was something Kurt was still getting used to, but on the few occasions he did lose a shirt - in-dorm practices that had gotten wildly out of control - he was always more comfortable around the boys he knew were straight.

It was nothing against the handful of Glee Club members that weren't straight. It was all Kurt's subconscious.

"Could you carry these?" Kurt asked, thrusting two notebooks and a Chemistry textbook towards David. His friend took them, balancing Kurt's stuff on top his own.

Kurt grabbed his tie and blazer, momentarily missing the artistic freedom he had at McKinley when it came to clothes. It was a daily occurence that lead to hours planning the two whole outfits he could wear that weekend when he went home.

His tie was messily knotted and he knew that he would most likely get points docked for his house if a teacher caught him like that. At that point, he was also running down the halls with David right next to him, so he really didn't care.

He was grateful that he and David shared Chemistry first thing in the morning. It wasn't a great first class, but Blaine was also in it so Kurt wasn't going to complain.

Kurt slid into his seat at the two person lab space moments before the teacher walked in and called for the class to come to order. Blaine, who seemed to have some kind of authority over the school and thus had his old Chemistry lab partner switched with Kurt, raised an eyebrow at Kurt's askew appearance. The taller boy shook his head, fixed his tie, and then thumbed his textbook open to page 394 like the teacher had asked for.

"Later," he mumbled.

"Now, can anyone tell me who succeeded Henry I's position after he died?"

Kurt was convinced World History was one of the most tedious classes he'd ever taken. He didn't know why he'd have to use this knowledge later in life - who cared that the teacher was wrong, that Henry I really held two positions of power? - but all he did know he had to pass the class if he wanted to use his history period as a free one next year as a senior.

"As the Duke of Burgundy, he was succeeded by Robert I. As the King of France, by Philip I."

"Correct, Mr. Anderson. Now, if you did your reading like you were supposed to, who can tell me Philip I's successor?"

Kurt was trying very hard not to glare at the love of his life.

He was having a generally terrible day. He'd forgotten his homework for two of his classes, realized he grabbed his design notebook instead of the notebook he used for his afternoon classes, nearly tripped and sent his lunch flying everywhere, and accidentally called his French teacher fat and ugly instead of beautiful and itelligent like they were assigned to say. Today was one of those days where Kurt was really, really glad there was a no-bullying policy that was strictly enforced. The last thing he needed was to be thrown into a Dumpster or a set of lockers.

Finally, finally, it was 3:50 and Kurt was free to lock himself in his room and wait out the rest of this horrid Thursday that he'd rather forget. He was nearly out of the room when Blaine grabbed his elbow and started steering him towards the choir room the Warblers used for rehearsals.

Warblers practice. Great.

"You're not having a good day," Blaine noted with concern.

Kurt could only raise an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"

Blaine sighed. "You can skip today's rehearsal. If you want. I can tell the Council you're not feeling well. And don't glare at me, you do look a little pale."

"I haven't eaten anything substantial today," Kurt muttered. They were nearing the rehearsal room and Blaine still hadn't removed his hand, though his grip wasn't as tight and demanding. "No, no, I'll go. I need to distract myself with something." At McKinley, I would hide out in the choir room if things weren't going so great. There's nothing like the feeling of pouring your heart out in a song, your fingers nothing but a conduit between your feelings and the piano.

He really needed to stop comparing Dalton to McKinley. Two months in and he was still having issues trying to fit completely into the scene at his new school.

Blaine's grin was contagious. "Great. Because I think you'll like what we've got planned today."

As it turned out, Blaine was right up until the very end of practice. Even though it was the beginning of February and preparations for Regionals were well underway, a new Senior Council needed to be voted upon and created. Normally, the boys of Dalton were collected and perfectly poised during the hours of daylight, especially in the academics building. (The dorm at night was a completely different story.)

Kurt had never seen anything like what the Warblers were up to that rehearsal. The juniors were herded off to a separate area of the room. The remaining seniors and lowerclassmen then got to throw out suggestions for what each junior had to perform.

Every election, there was a theme. This year, it was Silly Love Songs, and each junior had to perform one cheesy love song from the 20th century the other Warblers suggested. Every performance was cheesier than the next, with lots of fake declarations of love to the members of the Senior Council in loud, dramatic voices.

Despite the hysterics and generally uplifting feeling of the practice space, Kurt couldn't help himself from checking his phone - he'd gone back to his room to get it at lunch after the tripping debacle - and replying to Mercedes' upset texts. He knew Blaine was watching him and he tried to focus, but his mind was elsewhere, on the upcoming weekend and the plans he'd have to reschedule, and it was clear Blaine realized when he went up to sing his own audition piece.

"Do you mind if I pick something for me from this century? Not that there's anything wrong with last century," Blaine said and with the mood of the room, several others giggled at his mocking tone.

"Is the Council okay with Blaine doing this?" Trevon asked Wes and David, a small smile on his face. Kurt knew he batted for the same team as Blaine and him and just before, Flint had pretended that Trevon was the object of his affections. Sadly, he knew he could never listen to that Madonna song the same way ever again.

"Council approves," Wes declared.

They were allowed to use the piano (Kurt was happy about that as he was the last to go for Council auditions), and when Blaine sat himself down on the bench, boys straightened up. It was common knowledge that ever since Kurt had done a crappy job of spying on them before Sectionals, any song Blaine chose himself had some message to Kurt in it. There always was.

"Wonder what song he's going to pick," one of the freshmen whispered quietly to his friend as Blaine lightly played a few scales to get used to the piano's pitch and tone.

"I just wish they'd get together already," the other freshman whispered back. Kurt noticed from the corner of his eye that the two younger boys were glancing between Blaine and himself. He kept his eyes locked on the phone, wishing Mercedes could reply faster.

"What do you mean?"

"You can smell the sexual tension just rolling off of them. It's almost comical."

"I heard they were just friends."

"They are." The words were simple enough, but the tone implied a whole host of meanings.

Forcing them out of his hearing, Kurt focused back in on Blaine, who was playing the opening bars to "Misery" by Maroon 5. He was pretty sure he loved Blaine - he'd told Mr. Schue as much back in December - but he kept a strictly friends-only barrier up when it came towards how he acted towards Blaine. He may have undapper thoughts, but it didn't mean that he would act on those daydreams. No. Never. Not going to happen so long as Kurt and Blaine were friends.

Besides, Blaine didn't feel the same way, right?

Oh yeah

Kurt was jolted out of his thoughts by Blaine's voice. He immeadiately focused his attention on the boy's loosening curls. He must not have used as much gel that morning.

So scared of breaking it
That you won't let it bend
And I wrote two hundred letters
I will never send
Sometimes these cuts are so much
Deeper then they seem
You'd rather cover up
I'd rather let them be
So let me be
And I'll set you free

The two freshman boys looked at each other and grinned. Blaine kept playing, blissfully unaware of his surroundings.

I am in misery
There ain't nobody
Who can comfort me
Why won't you answer me?
The silence is slowly killing me
Boy you really got me bad
You really got me bad
I'm gonna get you back
Gonna get you back

One of Blaine's curls broke free of the tight-hold gel and Kurt vainly attempted to squash all thoughts of his fingers playing with it.

Your salty skin and how
It mixes in with mine
The way it feels to be
Completely intertwined
It's not that I didn't care
It's that I didn't know
It's not what I didn't feel,
It's what I didn't show
So let me be
And I'll set you free

I am in misery
There ain't nobody
Who can comfort me
Why won't you answer me?
Your silence is slowly killing me
Girl you really got me bad
You really got me bad
I'm gonna get you back
Gonna get you back

Wes and David were openly watching Kurt's deepening blush and Blaine's intense singing. Kurt could feel them wishing the two boys together with just their eyes alone. Why oh why did Blaine have to choose this song?

You say your faith is shaken
You may be mistaken
You keep me wide awake and
Waiting for the sun
I'm desperate and confused
So far away from you
I'm getting there
Don't care where I have to go

Why do you do what you do to me, yeah
Why won't you answer me, answer me, yeah
Why do you do what you do to me, yeah
Why won't you answer me, answer me, yeah

Boy you really got me bad
You really got me bad
I'm gonna get you back
Gonna get you back

The response was enthusiastic, to say the least. Kurt clapped politely with the other juniors while other classmen clapped him on the back and congratulated him. Blaine took his seat next to Kurt, who shoved his phone in his pocket as Wes stood up.

"Before the final audition, the Council would like to remind everyone of the bimonthly Campus Clear Weekend starting tomorrow after your three o'clock class ends. I believe this weekend the administration is sponsoring a weekend in Dayton." He looked at Trevon and Wes, who both nodded. "Nothing glamorous, but a chance for you all to stretch your legs and not have to go home to do so."

There was a positive response, to which David smiled. "All announcements out of the way, if someone could give Kurt a song?"

"'Kiss the Girl'!" Someone shouted.

"But make it 'Kiss the Boy' because those are the rules," someone else declared loudly.

Kurt watched Blaine glare at the Council as they approved this.

Maybe this wasn't as awesome a rehearsal as Blaine had first told him.

"Is there a bus solely dedicated to people's stuff?" Kurt asked in disbelief.

Blaine's lips were in a tight line. "Yeah. Some guys here are worse than those heiresses prancing around Hollywood."

Kurt wrapped his coat tighter around himself to fight off the windiness. Conversation between the two boys had been stiff and awkward ever since the Council auditions the day before. If he was honest with himself, Kurt was a little disgusted with himself at just how well he belted out the modified version of "Kiss the Girl" without screwing up. Blaine hadn't even bothered with one of his unnecessary but frequent touches.

Glancing at Blaine's pained expression, Kurt decided he needed to rethink his theory on Blaine's feelings.

There were a half dozen charter buses parked in a line in the parking lot of Dalton Academy. Kurt and Blaine were standing in a line to get on one of the busses, the icy air whipping around their faces. The only thing they were waiting on was a set of announcements from the headmaster.

"Hey, guys, since we're the first bus and the farthest away from Headmaster Bentley, he just told me to tell you guys that your stuff is being taken to a hotel in Dayton and we're going to follow it there." Wes grinned at the Warblers, who had all managed to get on the same bus together. "So we're set to leave."

"What strings did you pull for that?" Blaine hissed to Wes as Kurt followed the two up the bus stairs.

Wes' grin just grew. "Stop asking questions, Anderson. You'll find out all sorts of things you don't want to know."

Blaine stared Wes down before leading Kurt to a set of seats somewhere near the back. Kurt noticed the boy's mood growing darker as he carefully sat down in the cushioned seat.

"You alright?" Kurt asked the bus pulled away from the parking lot. At least their friends hadn't given them a giant radius of privacy. Kurt didn't know how he would have coped with that given the situation.

"No, I'm not," Blaine sighed. "Just...I have a lot on my mind."

His lovestruck side won out. "Care to share?"

Blaine's dark eyes swung from the window to look at Kurt longer than he typically allowed himself to. "Not at the present moment."

"Oh," Kurt said softly, ending the conversation. He focused on his phone, where he was anxiously waiting for Mercedes' reply. Dayton's mall wasn't like Columbus' mall - the former's had a Gap of all stores - but shopping was shopping and clothes were clothes, even if they weren't designer.

The only way I'm getting to Dayton is getting a ride from Rachel. Can you say unbearable? -M

It's Dayton or not seeing me in person for a week. -K

It was a few minutes before Kurt saw a "fine -M" show up on his iPhone screen.

He was still going to get to see Mercedes this weekend and he didn't have to give up time with Blaine to do so, regardless of the awkwardness between the two of them.

Of course they were given a room together. Looking at it from the teachers' perspective, this is what they saw:

The shy, quiet new kid and one of the more popular, confident boys in school.

They were both Warblers.

They had befriended each other.

Given what had happened, Kurt was silently cursing the ancient Greek gods for putting him in this place. He didn't do it often - curse the ancient Greek gods, that is - but when situations called for it...

Regardless of how they felt, by the time they had been given key cards and their bags and found the room on the third floor of the Hilton, both boys had managed to pull out their cool facades. The ones that said that nothing fazed them and they could do whatever they wanted and didn't care about what you had to say.

Kurt couldn't help but sigh with relief when they opened the door to find two separate beds. They wouldn't give them a room with one bed, but after the test Kurt's calculus teacher had administered the previous week, he wouldn't put it past the faculty of Dalton to give the two gay boys with obvious sexual frustration one bed.

The bed closer to the window was promptly taken by a silent Blaine who turned to Kurt from the other side of it with an uneasy smile.

"They're doing a free dinner in the restaurant downstairs for us later."

Kurt felt his face scrunch up in what was most likely an unattractive questioning look.

"The Dalton students, I mean," Blaine clarified, his cheeks reddening slightly at his mistake.

The soprano could only nod, hefting his suitcase up onto the bed. He ducked into the bathroom to calm down. Specifically, splash water on his face repeatedly until he woke up from this moment.

This was not happening.

And yet it was. More cold water dripped from Kurt's face and he tiredly stared at his face in the large mirror.

True, he was tired of everything. Of keeping up pretenses that he didn't feel anything; of having to ignore the little touches and flirty comments; of having to dress in that damned uniform five days a week; of having to act like he didn't feel anything.

His eyes told him as much. Only so much mosturizing and skin care and "proper sleep" could attempt to heal the bruises under his eyes. He wasn't getting his usual nine-and-half hours of sleep every night like he did at McKinley - he was lucky for seven a night with all the homework they had - and the spark in his eyes he was used to seeing wasn't as bright. If he had Blaine, maybe things would be a bit easier.

Kurt reached for a towel.

But Blaine didn't feel like that. Or so he kept telling himself. In truth, Kurt knew he was just telling himself that so he didn't experience daily rejection on Blaine's behalf, just telling himself that so he could live with Blaine not wanting to be with him. Being gay and in a relationship meant that if he and whatever boyfriend he had took their relationship public, they'd encounted prejudice and hate. What had Burt told him?

One day you'll find some as brave as you are? Kurt couldn't recall the exact memory, but it was something along those lines.

So just when would this bubble burst? It was exhausting to keep prodding at it but never popping it and-

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut as rather unclean thoughts of Blaine filled his head. They did have their own hotel room and-

No, no, just stop right there Hummel. Just stop. It's not going to happen, just shut up and go back out there. You brought books and homework just in case you were up late with nothing to do.

He heaved a sigh, watching his chest puff up and deflate in the mirror. He could feel his entire body throb like a livewire, a steady hum of adrenaline flowing through his veins. Suddenly, more than ever, he wanted it to be Saturday so he could focus on Mercedes and temporarily forget his troubled love life.

Why did it have to be so hard to just be yourself?

Kurt folded the towel up to match the others with scary precision and hung it on the rack. His face was its usual pale, creamy tone and he tried on a smile for size. The smile was painfully obvious in the "trying too hard" department and it instantly dropped.

He was exiting the bathroom when he saw Blaine on the bed he'd claimed, his long peacoat open and framing his body. His eyes were closed, so Kurt didn't mind just staring at the other boy.

Blaine's family, whoever they were, quite obviously had money. The stitching of the scarlet and purple seater vest over the crisp, black shirt made it look like it was easily designer. Kurt wasn't entirely sure, but if he had to put a name on it, it'd be Gucci.

No doubt about that.

Even his jeans, professionally distressed and ripped in variou splaces, looked designer. On average, Kurt only wore one designer pieces an outfit. His dad made a lot - he did run the only garage in Lima and for a few surrounding towns that people liked and trusted - but not enough for entire ensembles of designers, both American and international.

His teeth caught his lower lip as he realized just how tight Blaine's jeans hugged his thighs. They didn't flare out in a manner that would make someone immeadiately pinpoint him as gay, but having Kurt's knowledge, it was easy to see that only a gay guy could pull off those jeans.

Kurt may have been a little biased on that assessment.

Blaine's chest rose and sank as he took deep, even breaths; Kurt knew that Blaine wasn't asleep, but it was still nice to be able to look at him longer than two seconds before Blaine made some cheeky comment to divert his attention.

Sinking onto his bed, Kurt stared at the wall in hopes of getting rid of this burning feeling he'd never felt around another boy. "Blaine?"

"Hmm?" Kurt didn't watch as Blaine lazily opened one eye and roll his head.

Damn him. The burning feeling only grew at hearing the sleepy voice.

"What time's dinner?"

"Six, I think." Ten minutes. They would have to go in a few minutes.

He felt a little foolish staring at the wall, but Kurt didn't trust himself to look at Blaine. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the time he already knew.

"We should go down then."

Kurt also didn't see the raised eyebrow.

"To dinner. Down to dinner."

"Right. Yeah. Give me a minute."

Kurt could only hope that this tension didn't last. He'd just found his first gay friend; despite his feelings, he desperately wanted to keep him around.

"Kurt!"

He turned from his spot near the line of Warblers at the Auntie Anne's stand to see Mercedes and Rachel making their way over to the group of boys. His face lit up at seeing his sassy old friend and, well, the lead vocalist of New Directions.

"Mercedes!" he replied, his voice much quieter than the girl's. "Rachel," he added, giving her a complimentary hug as well.

"You look like yourself," Rachel said with a smile, looking up and down his outfit.

Still feeling outdone by Blaine's designerfuck of an ensemble, Kurt looked down at his favorite Alexander McQueen sweater. He remembered the first day he wore it - it was the same day he hit the necessary high F for "Defying Gravity". He'd blocked out the memory of Burt's reaction to the momentous occasion along with telling Kurt about the phone call he'd recieved that morning. All that he cared about was the fact that he'd hit a high F with perfect accuracy for the first time in his life.

"Thanks. And you don't look like four-year-old grandmother," he replied with a tiny bit of cheek. Rachel playfully swatted at his arm, laughing. Kurt felt a little bit of his old bravado surge back up within him and it was a relief.

"So, Kurt, where are we gonna get our shop on?" Mercedes asked, bumping her hip into Kurt's.

He clapped his hands together. "I was thinking-"

"Hey, Kurt, Blaine's skipping out on the horror movie. You in or out?" Trevon asked over the ruckus of hormonal, teenage boys.

"Out! Horror films are most definitely not my thing," Kurt called back. Trevon shrugged as if to say "Whatever floats your boat" and turned back to his conversation with Flint.

"They're not a particular favorite of mine," Blaine added, joining the little group.

"Oh my gosh!" Rachel gushed out of nowhere. "You're Makkenzie Anderson's brother!"

Mercedes and Kurt just stared at her in confusion as Blaine ducked his head, digging the toe of his Oxfords into the bland carpet of the mall.

"Can I just say I'm excited to see the Broadway revival of Avenue Q? I didn't think they'd do it so soon after closing it in 2009, but my dads said that if I saved up for the cost of the tickets, they'd take me to go see it. Of course, given the play and Kurt's sadness when it closed because neither of us got to see it on Broadway like we'd planned, I'm actually planning on taking him. We're supposed to go this summer."

Ah, how Kurt didn't miss Rachel's habit of talking as though her mouth were on fire.

"It's just so amazing that someone so young got a part. I mean, she only does a few movies in Hollywood and on a whim goes to New York to audition for Kate Monster and gets it-"

"Hold on a second, um..." Blaine looked to Kurt for a name.

"Rachel Berry, future Broadway show stealer and singer extraordinaire," Kurt supplied.

Rachel beamed at the compliments.

"Right. Rachel. You said 'your dads'?" Blaine asked, the only sign of emotion on his face in his creased, triangular eyebrows.

"Yes I did. They got married in the early nineties and-"

"I'm sure he doesn't want to hear it, Rache," Mercedes cut in.

Blaine's eyebrows relaxed and Kurt's unease on the inside grew. Oh my God, he's thinking about commitment if that's what he decides to pick out of her monologue...

"Anyway, I simply drove Mercees here for you, Kurt, but since I'm here, I do need a present for my twin cousins' upcoming birthday." She looked around at the stores there. "Mercedes, I'll meet you here at five."

The girl looked down at her watch. "But that's only four hours."

"During which time I'm sure you'll find plenty of clothes or whatever it is that you need Kurt for. Mercedes, boys," Rachel finished, squeezing her way past Blaine and Kurt in direction of the Children's Place that was several stores down.

"She obviously has not shopped with us," Mercedes commented as the remaning three fell into step, Kurt in between his two friends like a metaphorical bridge. She looked behind the taller boy at Blaine.

Blaine caught her eye. "I don't think we've met. Blaine Anderson."

"Mercedes Jones," the girl said, and the two shared and awkward hand shake behind Kurt's back.

"Can you people catch up? I've only got four hours with you, Mercedes. Certainly not enough time at all, which means we'll have to continue this next weekend." Kurt's assessing gaze passed over Blaine. "I don't need to redo Blaine's stylistic choices, which makes my job a whole lot easier."

"And what do you mean by that?" Blaine asked.

Kurt flushed. "You can pull off style. Obviously designer and put together. Thank you."

They'd been to every clothing store and it was already four-thirty. They were walking in the direction of the Gap store whenever Kurt stopped.

"No. We are not going there," he declared once had realized where this was all headed.

"Um, Kurt, did you get that one jacket from there?" Mercedes asked.

"The one I wore once and then burned in your backyard because it didn't coordinate with anything I owned?" Kurt's mildly sardonic gaze passed over Mercedes. "Your point?"

"You burned a jacket?" Blaine asked, his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Oh, honey, you've never met quite a fashionista like Kurt Hummel, have you?" Mercedes asked sadly. "Just give it a try. For me?"

Kurt broke down on the inside at Mercedes' request. Obviously he was only getting so much time with her this weekend, so why shouldn't he spend every possible moment with her? He didn't plan on having Blaine tag along, but he was normal enough that it was alright.

"Fine."

Mercedes gave an uncharacteristcally squeal and hugged Kurt.

"But I challenge you to find me something that I like," Kurt added, setting down his own bags and wrapping his arms around his much shorter friend.

"Challenge accepted," Mercedes said with a nod. "Let's go!"

Mercedes was first into the store when Blaine stopped Kurt, telling his friend's friend that they'd be in momentarily. She gave a knowing wink before flouncing into the store.

"Yes Blaine?"

The baritone lead his friend to the railing across from the store.

"Is this what you were likeat McKinley?"

Kurt's euphoric feeling sobered up a little as he set down his bags for the second time in two minutes. "Well, I didn't talk about fashion completely, but talking with Mercedes about boys and school and Glee Club and things in general...yeah, I guess you could say that this is what I was like."

"Listen, Kurt-"

"If you're going to apologize for convincing me to come to Dalton where I obviously feel the pains of missing my friends and old Glee Club, think again my friend. There's no need to apologize." He gave a small, cheeky smile. "I obviously know how you feel on that topic."

Blaine nodded as though scanning through whatever he had planned. In retrospect, Kurt realized that Blaine had been particularly quiet that day, just watching and absorbing everything.

"Well, um, I want to apologize if I've been distant lately, it's just that there's a lot on my mind."

Kurt cocked an eyebrow skyward. "Care to share?"

"Deja vu," Blaine muttered, taking a unconscious step closer to Kurt who didn't seem to mind. "This time, yes."

The eyebrow on Kurt's forehead stayed perfectly poised in position. The dark-haired boy took a deep breath as if to calm himself before speaking slowly, picking the right words to say off the top of his head.

"I don't know how to describe this and I don't know what to call it, but I've been thinking. A lot. About myself, about you, our friendship, and I've realized that I've been foo-"

"Kurt!" Mercedes' voice cut through the moment - the moment Kurt knew would have been filled with Blaine admitting that he was fooling himself, that he wanted to be more thanjust Kurt's friend - and Kurt turned his head to see his friend holding up a plaid sweater that somehow worked with a shirt Kurt had in his suitcase in the hotel room. "How about this?"

"It-it-it works," Kurt rushed out, his own voice not properly working. "I like that actually."

"Good," Mercedes said slyly, as if she were plotting Kurt's fashion demise. "Come here. There's this leather jacket I found, but I need your eye to make sure it does work with my body type."

Kurt glanced at Blaine. "Go ahead. I'll just tell you later." Kurt moved to follow his friend into the depths of the Gap store. "When I get you alone."

His tone sent shivers up Kurt's spine, and they weren't the scary kind you get watching a thriller movie. As Kurt entered the store with Blaine a little ways behind him, he could'e sworn he heard Wes and David's groans.

It was like Mercedes knew exactly what was going on and had decided to torture the living hell out of Kurt. This funk he and Blaine were in was about to be lifted; she had to come along and interupt it. Every time Kurt swore up and down on his vocal range that he saw Blaine, she'd pull him to a different rack that completely obscured his view of the boy he was pretty he loved.

Another time, he truly thought his ears were playing tricks on him when he heard Mercedes humming a Maroon 5 song. Mercedes didn't listen to Maroon 5.

Or was the voice humming it strangely low for Mercedes? Was it?

He felt like he was in some kind of mind maze. He tried focusing on the task at hand, but even the hideous pink pants Mercedes tried on couldn't keep the anxiety out of Kurt's sytem. He was growing impatient, his feet and fingers needing to keep in motion. His eyes took in everything, they were darting around so wildly. As he waited for Mercedes to come out for the millionth time, he leaned his forehead on the wall opposite the dressing rooms. His fists were clenched and tense; even deep breathing wasn't helping.

Suddenly, a strong and familiar arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him into an empty dressing room. His back found the wall, the arm still snugly fit around his waist as though it was made to rest there. He could feel a familiar forehead lean against his own.

"I've tried waiting until we got back to the hotel room, but with Mercedes as nice a girl as she is and then watching you and your natural ability that you obviously love so much, I couldn't take it anymore."

Kurt tried not to pay heed to where his blood was suddenly headed upon hearing Blaine's thick, husky voice. He'd never head or felt this side of Blaine, even though all that was touching was their foreheads. Blaine had taken his arm back and Kurt felt a little more alone. His eyes were closed; he didn't feel like opening them under the circumstances.

Blaine's forehead left his and Kurt heard the dressing room curtain slide open and then close again. Kurt's eyes flew open and even though he hadn't invited the touch from Blaine, he wasn't scared and shocked to his core like he had been with Karofsky and that kiss.

No. Now he just felt alone.

He poked his head around the corner of the dressing room. Mercedes was still in her dressing room, humming a song she had said the Glee Club was working on. She obviously didn't need Kurt's fashion advice, so why would she mind him leaving for a few minutes?

Kurt's thoughts were jumbled at this new advance on Blaine's part, and the only way he dealt with mass confusion - especially about his lack of a real love life - was through song.

Hopefully Blaine knew Robin Thicke. (And how could he not? Kurt reasoned as he left the dressing room area.)

Baby boy, where you at?
Got no strings, got the men attached.
Can't stop this feeling for long, no.
Oh, mm

He saw Blaine and followed, still singing mostly to himself. The store was empty; no embarassment on his part was necessary.

Making them dogs wanna beg,
Breaking them off those fancy legs.
They make you feel right at home, oh oh.

Blaine's voice was right behind him. Standing in the back corner of the store, completely hidden by racks and clothes, Kurt felt Blaine come up behind him close enough to touch, but far apart enough that they weren't. Infuriating. Madenning. And Blaine had picked up the second verse and was conitnuing on in that rich voice of his.

'Cause all these illusions just take us too long
But I want you bad
Because you walk pretty
Because you talk pretty
Because you make me sick
And I'm not leaving
'Til you're leaving

Kurt had Blaine pressed up into the rack behind them, Kurt acutely aware of the rise and fall of Blaine's vainly controlled breathing. He wants this too.

Oh I swear there's something
When he's pumpin',
Askin' for a raise
Well does he want carry him home,
Well does he want me to buy him things?
On my house, on my job,
On my loot, my shoes, my shirt, my crew,
On my mind, on my father's last name?

They were still pressed together, but Kurt wrenched himself away and rounded the rack despite what his body was screaming at him to do. Blaine was about to finish up the chorus and Kurt could see he wasn't disguising his true feelings anymore.

When I get you alone,
I'll get you, you'll know it.
When I get you alone,
I'll get you alone.

Baby boy, you're the shit,
That makes you my equivalent
You can keep your toys in the drawer tonight, a'right.

Kurt smiled devilishly as he and Blaine circled the rack and never once taking their eyes off each other. His turn.

All my dogs all confess
Ain't you got some photographs?
'Cause you shook the room like a star
Now yes you did.

See all these intrusions just take us too long
But I want you so bad
Because you walk city
Because you talk city
Because you make me sick
And I'm not leaving
'Til you're leaving

Oh I pray to something
He ain't bluffing, rubbin' up on me.
Well does he want me to make a vow?
Well does he want me to make it now?
On my house, on my job,
On my loot, my shoes, my work, my crew,
My mood, my father's last name?

Blaine had caught up to Kurt and as he drew the taller boy closer to him, face-to-face this time, he joined him in the last chorus. Kurt felt as though he was going to explode from all this progress they were making.

When I get you alone,
I'll get you, you'll know it.
When I get you alone,
I'll get you alone.

The two stopped moving, save for their chests moving in rhythm. The only sound was their heavy breathing, each one still in some amount of shock over the position they were suddenly in, as well as the super-charged, sexually frustrated song they'd both knew off their heads perfectly.

Kurt felt Blaine rest his head on Kurt's chest and as he moved, Kurt realized just how aware Blaine would be of how aroused he was. The shorter boy didn't make a comment, just continued trying to control his breathing.

Neither minded that their arms were tightly holding onto the other. Kurt rested his chin on the top of Blaine's head, trying to make this wonderful position he was in a bit more comfortable. His eyes blissfully fell shut, enjoying the moment.

"Finally you two. Mm, the tension rolling off the both of you was just a little too much for a girl like me to handle," Mercedes announced loudly, clothes hanging over both arms.

Blaine sprang out of Kurt's embrace, embarassment clearly written on his face at having been caught in something he wasn't used to.

"Mercedes," Kurt sighed.

"No, I don't wanna hear it." She smiled a little to wide for Kurt's liking. "Anyway, it's five oh five and I've already got ten texts from Rachel asking me where I am. I have to go pay for these and then run, so I'll just say bye now."

Kurt's happiness dimmed a little. At least you don't have this awkwardness with Blaine anymore. You'll see her next week.

They exchanged farewells and fake tears as their usual weekend custom called for. He watched Mercedes until she left the store.

"I think we should talk," Blaine murmured, coming up next to Kurt. The latter boy was trying to desperately keep his eyes dry. Oh how he missed his old friends with a passion.

"Yeah." Kurt swallowed. "Yeah, we should. Food court?"

"Hey losers, get in, we're going shopping!"

Kurt looked up from where he had been staring as his fingers - they were finally intertwined with a certain baritone's - and Blaine laughed.

"I didn't realize you were a Mean Girls fan Trevon!" Blaine jeered back to the fellow Dalton junior.

Trevon merely shrugged.

"Seriously, dude, stop flirting. We've got to hit up GameStop before the buses leave for dinner at six-thirty. It's a surprise where they're taking us," Wes said, failing at adding a note of mystery to his voice.

Blaine and Kurt looked back at each other.

"So we're good?" Blaine asked softly, squeezing Kurt's hands in reassurance.

"We're good," Kurt agreed, squeezing back before letting go.

Following the group of Warblers Kurt had been slowly warming up to, he hooked a finger through one of Blaine's. This must be what being able to hold hands with someone else in public must feel like, Kurt noted wryly as he happily ignored strangers' disgusted looks at Blaine and his blantant display of affection.

The entire group took up most of the video game store and after several boys loaded up on video games to take back to their respective game consoles in their rooms, Trevon laughed as he stared at something outside the store.

"What?" David asked, his giant bag clutched to his chest.

"Kissing booth," Kurt heard Trevon whisper to David. Wes joined the little group by the door and Kurt got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as Blaine continued to browse Wii games, unaware of the plotting going down between his three friends.

"No way. That's too convienent," Wes said, his voice low. He caught Kurt's gaze and winked at him.

They wouldn't.

"Do you think we should-"

"Trevon, really?" David grinned a bit like the Cheshire Cat. He noticed Kurt's warning glare. "What kind of stupid question is that?"

The boy in question childishly stuck his tongue out at his friend.

"We should." Wes was nodding.

"When everyone leaves," David agreed.

Blaine turned back to Kurt, grabbing his attention. "There's nothing good here. I think Flint is the last person left."

Kurt swallowed. Would it count as his first legitimate kiss? They wouldn't have to - there was a curtain after all, and the other Warblers would be none the wiser. It could still be by choice, which is all he wanted in a first kiss anyway.

"Hey, you okay?" Blaine asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Kurt said. He didn't even bother trying to smile. He knew it'd be horrible.

"C'mon. We're leaving, losers," Trevon said, grabbing both of them by their elbows. Wes and David were snickering to each other behind their games as Trevon lead the two lovestruck boys towards the kissing booth.

"Really Trevon?" Blaine asked as soon as he saw where Trevon was dragging him.

The red-haired boy smiled like a kid on Christmas. "It's Wes and David, too."

They smiled and waved before dissolving into giggles. As Trevon pushed them into the booth. Blaine cried out, "Oh hell no Trev!"

Kurt and Blaine landed awkwardly on top of each other as the curtain slid shut. Right then and there, seeing a flustered Blaine, Kurt decided that Blaine swearing was probably the sexiest thing he'd heard since he first gained a sex drive.

Blaine didn't move Kurt from his lap; he simply turned him so they were sideways to each other. Kurt could hardly keep himself from trembling, his thoughts in a flurry of emotions.

"We don't have to-" Blaine swallowed. "I mean, if you don't- If you aren't comfortable because of-" He swallowed again. "Oh God, I should just stop trying to form a coherent thought, shouldn't I?"

Kurt didn't recognize his own voice. It had reached a new high pitch he hadn't heard since before puberty. "Blaine, I-" He paused, searching Blaine's eyes in the darkness. "I want you to kiss me."

"Are you sure, because I don't want you to-"

"Just, please, shut up and kiss me before I change my mind and run out of here like a scared little boy." With his declarative statement, Kurt shut his eyes and waited for the rejection. Too soon, too soon, he's going to say that it's too soon with Karofsky and-

He didn't get to finish his thought as he felt Blaine's super-soft lips lightly press against his own.

In all honesty, he didn't feel fireworks go off. There were no stars dancing in his vision, no cloud nine feeling. All thought went out the window as Kurt realized that Blaine was kissing him and oh my God what chapstick did he use because nobody has lips that naturally soft and was he kissing him back but why was this shock even though he didn't think he would given everything and-

Dear Marc Jacobs, the boy could kiss. He quite obviously knew what he was doing; his lips just took control but after what seemed like a blissful eternity, Kurt could feel his own lips fighting for dominance.

Kurt quickly realized as he threw a hand into Blaine's curls - he had forgotten his hair gel at school and not for the first time that day, Kurt was thankful for this - that kissing a boy was a bit different than kissing a girl, even if it had been Brittany.

Kissing a girl was all softness and careful touches, though he had no doubt in his mind that things could get passionate and a little rough with a girl if he swung that way. But since he didn't, he knew that even though there was more teeth and biting and more awkward bumps and clashing noses, even though there was a fierce hunger Kurt suddenly couldn't sate that was driven by testosterone for both parties involved, Kurt liked kissing boys a whole lot more.

Somehow Kurt had ended up straddling Blaine on the small bench in the kissing booth; when they pulled away to reclaim their own breath, neither dared to move in fear of breaking the moment. Kurt could make out Blaine's oh so elated expression and for the first time since his decision to transfer, he felt as though being at Dalton would be a bit more bearable.