Uncomfortable, Wes sipped his caramel macchiato, wishing he had ordered something a little less gay. It was bad enough he was sitting in The Lima Bean across from Blaine—who seemed to be even more jittery than Wes felt. Calm, dashing, together Blaine, who usually exuded confidence that oozed over everything like a contagion—a healthy and talented addition to the Warblers—was fidgeting fretfully in his seat. Wes had never seen him in such a state. His fingers were tap-tap-tapping out a hamster's heartbeat on his cup, both legs bounced up and down as if readying for escape, his shoulders were hunched over his coffee, his curls a wild, unkempt mess at the top of his head, and his mahogany brown eyes were shining up at Wes like a pleading cow. He was, in short, a nervous wreck.
If Wes were to put a word to Blaine's behavior, he would probably choose "disconcerting." He was not okay with seeing his number one Warbler fall to pieces before his eyes. They still had Gaps to perform at.
The coffee in his hand did nothing to quell Wes's anxieties. He had heard that coffee dates were the height of romantic language in Blaine's mind, and found the situation before him somewhat unsettling. Was he wrong when he assumed that the drenched-in-charm way Blaine acted around him was just how he was? Had he been flirting all this time? But no, thought Wes. I've seen him around others; he's like that with everyone. Especially Kurt, he noted That dazzling smile of his seemed to be getting a lot more use since the counter-tenor showed up. And his smile never wavered, even when they had lost at Regionals, the week prior. In fact, he and Kurt had been becoming closer and closer since then.
Maybe this isn't about me at all! realized Wes, excited, trying his hardest to keep his jubilance out of his facial expression. The last thing he wanted was a heartsick Warbler—their star Warbler—after his love.
Still nervous, Wes approached the subject with caution, with the most mundane and vague question he could think up: "Umm, Blaine, are you okay?"
"No!" confessed Blaine, sinking even deeper into his seat. "I—I just, um, I haven't lately, gotten the courage to tell you, but"—panic rose thick in Wes's throat; were his first assumptions not as ridiculous as he had denounced them? Perhaps the two boys closeness of late was simply kinship? Was it rude of him to assume that just because Kurt and Blaine were both gay and friends that meant there was something more between them? ...Was he, Wes Warbler, gaycist? Oh God, he had assumed too much—"I kissed Kurt."
Relief washed over Wes in a crashing wave. All those times he had seen them eye-screwing and flirting and Wes thought that Blaine was into him? Of all the stupid ideas. Now that he thought about it, this was a long time coming. This had been going on since they had met and it had taken them this long to act out on those feelings? Before Wes could restrain himself, he blurted, "Well, it's about time!"
Blaine was taken aback, shrinking further into his chair.
Wes, relieved he was not the cause of Blaine's fidgeting, was intrigued. He leaned in closer, resting his elbows on the table. "So, how did it go?" Wes seriously doubted Blaine had good reason for his demeanor—Kurt was obviously over the moon for the guy.
"Well," began Blaine, hiding his face in his hands, his words slightly muffled. "He...he kissed back, and it was amazing—this was before Regionals, actually—"
"Before Regionals and you didn't tell me? That's cold, man." Wes was truly offended to be left out of the loop.
"Yeah, yeah," dismissed Blaine, waving away his concerns. "But, I mean, we are, dating, and I—it...it's really good, but..."
Wes smiled knowingly. Had he been this—for lack of a better word—adorable when he and his girlfriend had started dating? But what did this guy have to worry about?
Smirking, Wes went back to nursing his macchiato, choking at Blaine's next, wide-eyed question (apparently addressed to no one in particular), "Who's going to top?"
After clearing his throat and lungs of coffee, Wes sank his face to his hand. "Why did I have to hear that?" Wes liked to think Blaine and him were good friends, very good friends, but the intimate details of his sex life were not things Wes wanted to hear. He looked up at
Blaine, who now resembled a puppy with its tail between its legs rather a lovestruck boy. "Why can't your good friend Google figure this out for you—"
"No, I did Google it!" Wes threw his hands up in exasperation, attracting the unwanted attention of their fellow customers, who eyed them suspiciously. "But, I mean, I guess he's smaller than me—"
"I'm pretty sure you could wrap your arms around his waist twice. Wait, didn't Jeff already try—"
"—but I'm shorter, so...And I guess he's more effeminate—"
"You guess?"
"—but I don't know if that really means much in the bedroom—"
"I can't believe I am hearing this."
Blaine stayed silent, uncharacteristically chewing his bottom lip. Wes responded to the puppy dog eyes with a blank stare, mouth slightly open in disbelief. "Uhh. Have you talked to Kurt about this?"
"What! No!" He ran his fingers through his hair, usually so stiff but now freed from its gel confines. He rested his forehead on the table in distress. "That'd be so uncomfortable."
"Oh, and this isn't?" Blaine looked up from the table. "Look, you've got to talk to him about it. See what his preferences are and figure out yours—I don't want to hear what they are!" (For Blaine had opened his mouth to try for a response.) "I thought you guys were all about total honesty. In order to keep your relationship healthy, you've got to discuss these kinds of things."
The corners of Blaine's lips twitched a bit, as if trying for a smile. "You know what? You're absolutely right. I should never have fretted over this. I'll talk to him myself. Thanks, Wes."
Wes rolled his eyes, but was secretly pleased with himself. He should give couple advice more often. "Drink up, your coffee's getting cold."
Sitting on the couch in the commons he and Blaine had sung their first duet, Kurt sighed. Technically, this would be the couple's first official "date." Coffee and "hanging out" at each other's houses didn't really count. Despite his attempt at calming himself, his hands twitched at his knees.
Dear God, was he really fidgeting? This was Blaine. If there was anyone Kurt was completely, one hundred percent comfortable around, it was Blaine. Kurt loved him. He smiled at that. He really loved him. And for the first time in his life, the boy he loved returned his affection. It was a brand new, breathtaking feeling when Blaine kissed him. When he kissed Blaine.
He could kiss Blaine.
Kurt had to suppress a giggle at that thought.
And it wasn't a secret, not really. Blaine was late in telling Wes, but most of the Warblers had found out when they saw the goodbye, for-luck kisses they'd taken to stealing before classes.
And nobody cared. If they did, it was only enough to give a pat on the back and an enthusiastic "good for you guys" or an exasperated "finally."
Why couldn't the whole world be like Dalton? pondered Kurt, his eyes turning sad as he looked to the sooty fireplace. Despite these thoughts, he truly believed there was a place for him and Blaine.
But now wasn't the time for such thoughts. Kurt put on his bravest, most handsome smile to greet his boyfriend with.
Since having coffee with Wes the week previous, Blaine had returned to his normal, confident self—on the outside, at least. Inside, he was still over-thinking scenarios with Kurt. Sexual scenarios. Not that this was anything new, of course. It was normal to think of your boyfriend in…that kind of way, but it was getting out of hand. He had grown accustomed to studying Kurt. The way he moved. The small swivel in his hips when he walked. How long his legs seemed crossed at the knee when he'd sit beside him in geometry. The awkward but cute way he held his hands at his sides when he wanted to show him something. The arc of his back when he yawned. The way he licked his lips when he was contemplating a question or remark.
Somehow, all of these pertained to whether Kurt was pitcher or catcher. Blaine just didn't know how. He never was good at baseball to begin with...He knew the Japanese called it seme and uke, but didn't know which was which so it was pointless to think in those terms.
It seemed pointless to think in any terms, really. Especially with the fantasies. Oh, the fantasies.
Regardless of his surroundings, they'd come to him without warning. He liked the Blaine in the fantasies far more than the real one. This Blaine was unafraid, confident, and sensual. He satisfied Kurt's desires—no matter what they were—as well as his own. And it wasn't just daydreaming, or one session each. He would wake up in the morning, his head in his hands, wondering if all that had really happened in one dream. It didn't seem to matter to Dream Blaine and Dream Kurt who was on top or bottom.
Maybe Blaine should have followed their example. However, he didn't.
Instead, he had a test ready.
He smiled weakly to himself as he crossed the courtyard to the common room where Kurt was waiting, the boom-box he had brought with him when they had sung Baby, It's Cold Outside. It was no longer cold though, spring blooming all around him. Surely, he thought pseudo-confidently, this will determine it.
Reaching the door, he took a deep breath, fingers dancing nervously at the knob before pulling to open it.
There he was, his back to him. His brown hair was a stark contrast to the white skin of his nape. Blaine was dazzled. Kurt didn't seem to notice his entrance, not even pricking an ear. Blaine smiled as he tiptoed his way across the room. Setting down the boombox, he pressed play. The old, scratchy tape his mom used to play to him as a baby filled the room with quiet, cool jazz. No reaction was prompted from Kurt.
Is he asleep? pondered Blaine incredulously.
Yes, he was, Blaine found, craning his neck over the couch back and watching Kurt's chest rise and fall gently, his eyelashes thick and long resting over his cheeks.
Blaine chortled softly—was he really that late? He bent over the couch, eventually kneeling behind it.
Slowly, with the lightest pressure, he trailed a finger from Kurt's hairline down his nape. The boy shivered beneath his touch, but did not wake. A lazy smile widened on Blaine's face as he trailed over the edges of Kurt's blazer.
He sat up straighter, leaving all weight on his knees, shifting until he was directly behind Kurt. Quiet as it was, their breathing filled the small room. Blaine leaned the bridge of his nose at the back of Kurt's neck, breathing in Kurt's scent 'til he was dizzy. Gently, his lips touched Kurt's nape, rustling the feathery hair with his exhale.
From behind... thought Blaine suddenly, eyes widening. No! he protested. Bad thought train! Brake! Brake!
Unfortunately, once the brake is in use, trains still take a while to come to a complete stop.
Against his will, his mind went on, Would I even like giving it from behind? Or receiving?
No, he realized, blushing, sinking his forehead to Kurt's shoulder. He'd like to be facing him…
Stop, stop, stop! he scolded himself—though he was secretly happy he finally figured out some preference of his own. But what if Kurt preferred doggy style—Stop!
No use worrying if he didn't have any information, he rationalized.
Kurt was stirring awake. Startled but pleased by the head resting on his shoulder, Kurt turned to Blaine.
"Hiya, stranger," greeted Kurt groggily, causing Blaine to jump out of his reverie.
Soon, he relaxed though, turning to kiss Kurt's forehead. "Did you really wait that long?"
"Long enough for a catnap, I guess. But it wasn't that bad." He smiled. "You're here now."
Oh God, thought Blaine triumphantly, though a little horrified. We are so sickeningly adorable.
Kurt recognized the soft jazz issuing from the boombox. He bit his lip, grinning. "You wanna dance?" he offered.
Blaine's eyebrows shot up. This guy...He beat me to it. "I'd love to," he answered, taking Kurt by the hand and walking around the couch. Their fingers never unlinked.
Nonchalantly, Kurt's hand was placed at Blaine's waist, and they began a small little waltz. He's leading, thought Blaine. Wait, does that mean he takes the lead...elsewhere? Wait, am I really censoring my own thoughts? But soon he was distracted again, the proximity of their bodies suddenly a very big deal.
Oh dear.
They were cheek to cheek now—mostly because Blaine didn't want Kurt to see his face contort to match his tormented feelings. Both boys could feel the other's blush, hot against their skin.
Stop. Stop thinking about that. But that seemed to spur the desire further, not quell it. Or that, he added. Or that!
"Uhm," began Kurt in a quiet, squeaky voice. "Blaine?"
"Yes?" said Blaine shakily, pulling back.
"Would you rather stay in tonight?" he asked, eyes pointedly looking to Blaine's pants.
"I, uh, Kurt, I—"
Kurt shook his head. "You don't have to worry, Blaine, I'm kinda...the same," he admitted, straining his face and raising his eyebrows as if hinting at something.
Oh, Blaine thought dimly, his eyes migrating down Kurt's body. OH!
"And," continued Kurt anxiously, his words tumbling out in a torrent, "truthfully, I didn't call in for a reservation or anything, even though we agreed it was my turn but I was just nervous, I guess, and I know you're tired of Breadstix—hell, I'm tired of Breadstix." He took a calming breath, and Blaine stepped closer. "And I mean, I'd like to just spend time with...you. So...you wanna stay here? We don't have to go anywhere."
"I'd love that," agreed Blaine, voice hoarse.
Kurt's breathing became shallow. "There's an empty classroom nearby," he hinted, eyes lingering on his boyfriend's nearing lips.
Blaine kissed him, forcing him to guide blindly in the direction of the secluded room.
Blaine could feel Kurt's prominent hip bones beneath his uniform, his thumbs running over them. Kurt's head arced back, eyes upward to the ceiling. Slowly, with purpose, Blaine's hands meandered upward, gripping the folds of Kurt's blazer. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers and thumbs as if it were fine silk. Kurt looked down, watching him closely. Through his lashes, Blaine saw Kurt's reaction as the garment was pulled back away from his shoulders.
Kurt bit his lip.
With one swift movement, and without protest, the blazer was removed.
Blaine surged forward, his mouth on Kurt's in a heartbeat. Their bodies were aligned, with Kurt's back pushed against the wall. The smile in their kiss could not be suppressed. Kurt's hands were suddenly in action, traipsing their way over Blaine's hard, stocky body. He pushed back Blaine's own blazer off his shoulders, until Blaine let go of Kurt to shimmy his way out of it. Returning, Blaine groaned against Kurt's mouth and pressed himself further into the other boy, as if wanting to melt into him. Blaine's own hands remained at Kurt's small waist, holding him firmly to himself and the wall.
Kurt moaned softly at the contact. Blaine moved his pelvis systematically, rhythmically, against Kurt, both parties acutely aware of the other's erection. Kurt's jaw dropped in shocked pleasure, leaving Blaine's tongue to take advantage of the open mouth.
Blaine's lips migrated from Kurt's soft lips, leaving kisses at his jaw, neck, collar. His hips kept rolling against Kurt's. Kurt felt dizzy with the feeling of Blaine against him. He giggled lightly as a thought popped into his head: of the day they first met—they really were living the teenage dream, weren't they? Distracted by the laughter, Blaine looked up, a hint of hurt in his eyes.
"Did—did I do something weird? I—"
"No!" stated Kurt emphatically. "No, it's just…a thought occurred to me."
A rare, naughty smile appeared at Blaine's lips. "An inappropriate one?"
"N-no," stammered Kurt. "It's just so...surreal. Like, how this is even happening. To me. And it's good."
Blaine sunk his face to Kurt's shoulder, grinning against his neck. He was so happy, words escaped him. For a moment, he had forgotten his previous nervousness over who would top. Did it really matter?
Once again, their mouths were on each other in that primeval, animalistic need. Blaine's thrusting began again, Kurt moving along with him, his head spinning.
It was almost too much. In fact, if this continued...
"B-Blaine..." Kurt tried, "if you keep doing that...I...I'll..."
A small laugh fell out of Blaine's mouth, the breath warming Kurt's features. "Sorry," he apologized. "I'm really not used to this either."
Kurt leaned back, nodding, as Blaine released him.
"But..." Kurt amended, winded, his complexion growing redder and redder. "You don't have to...stop."
Blaine didn't need to be told twice.
Kurt may have been taller, but he was much smaller than Blaine; with ease, he was lifted from his feet, and set—not-so gently—on the adjacent desk, causing Kurt to have to look up at Blaine. His legs were forced to part, as Blaine wheedled his body between them, Kurt's knees locking around his legs. The light pressure from his thighs was nearly unbearable, shocks shooting up and down Blaine's spine.
"I thought you liked being on the furniture," Kurt remarked, giggling.
"Oh, shut up," was his boyfriend's attempt at a witty retort, that came out more like a breath.
Kurt smiled cheekily. "Make me."
Blaine's grin widened. "Okay," he muttered, before his mouth covered his, fingers fumbling with the buttons of Kurt's shirt.
Once the garment was removed, Kurt's cheeks, normally a cherubic pink, were a glowing crimson. He brought his hands up, to cover his feverish face, but Blaine caught them in his own, fingers interlacing together. His eyes never left Kurt's now bare chest.
Blaine sank his face to Kurt's collar, the bridge of his nose trailing over his heaving chest.
"Blaine—"
"You're beautiful," Blaine murmured into Kurt's soft skin.
The breath at his abdomen made Kurt shudder as he resisted the urge to reply, "You too," and focused on remaining silent, chewing his lip.
Blaine released Kurt's hands—which he promptly used to cover his face. Kissing and dragging his lips over Kurt's cream-colored skin, Blaine let his hands slide over the sides of Kurt's waist. His thumb brushed a nipple, jolting the other boy with unexpected, overwhelming pleasure. A small sound—almost like a sob—escaped past his lips. Blaine glanced up at him from under his eyebrows.
His eyes blazed with desire, exhilarating Kurt. Slowly, he rose, his thumbs working over Kurt's hardened nipples. Blaine's breathing quickened; he couldn't remain calm seeing Kurt so aroused. Both boys, normally so collected and level-headed, were losing themselves in each other.
Blaine's lips finally reached Kurt's, tentative at first. Kurt returned it, hungrily, letting primal instinct envelope him.
And when Blaine's own shirt was finally off, Kurt could only stare, eyes wide. "Well, aren't you…"—he swallowed—"defined." He couldn't decide whether to be aroused by or jealous of Blaine's "abulous," hair-covered chest. A little embarrassed, Blaine smirked, his cheeks reddening slightly.
He just kept on staring, as Blaine's eyebrows rose higher as time passed, his blush deepening. "Uhh…Kurt?" he asked, bringing him back to reality. Kurt looked back into his eyes.
"Didn't…" he began, his eyes drifting down again. He shook himself. "Didn't you once say something about 'not having time for the gym'?"
"Well, I don't," he answered, shrugging.
Kurt arched an eyebrow disbelievingly. He couldn't let it go: "What, did the ab fairies gift you with that magnificent body?"
Blaine burst out laughing, sinking his face to the taller boy's shoulder. Kurt knew he had completely killed the mood, but it was worth seeing Blaine laugh so uncontrollably.
"Mood: obliterated," sighed Kurt, hopelessly nodding.
Shoulders still shaking with laughter, Blaine showed his agreement by imitating the sound of an explosion, his fingers splaying out in demonstration.
Between embarrassed grins and stolen glances, they dressed sheepishly.
"So, uh, you still up for that date?" asked Blaine, trying to break the tension in the room and no longer worried about who would top—what did it matter? They had each other; they'd cross that bridge when they got there. He fumbled with his tie.
Already fully dressed, Kurt hopped down from the desk. Giggling and taking Blaine's necktie in his deft fingers, he folded it over in formation like a dance. "I'd love that."
But, thought Blaine, blinking down at the boy before him, I just have to ask. If anything, just knowing would quiet his mind. He struggled, but his curiosity got the better of him. "Kurt," he addressed, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, and tried again: "Kurt."
"Yes?" he answered sweetly, looking up from beneath his lashes.
"Uhh," he began, flushing. "What are your, uhm...p-preferences, I guess?"
Kurt smiled as if he were resisting desperately not to, but a small blush formed over his cheeks. "Is that what you've been so nervous about lately?"
"You noticed?" he squeaked in response, taken aback.
Kurt scrunched up his face apologetically. "Your hair's been less than tame of late. And Wes's been giving you weird, encouraging smiles and waggling his eyebrows a lot."
Blaine couldn't help a nervous chuckle. "So?" he prompted.
"Well..." began Kurt, his hands teasing Blaine as they stroked his tie, the backs of his fingers softly drifting over his chest. He blushed, but his lips upturned in a mischievous smile. "I think...I prefer top. I'm pretty flexible though. I don't really feel it matters, you know?"
Kurt bit his lip when he heard Blaine's breath catch. He let go of his grip on Blaine's tie. "Is that a problem?" his voice wavering, despite the blazing look in his eyes.
"No," Blaine realized, a weight lifting from his shoulders. It wasn't even what the answer would be that had bothered him, but the not knowing of it all. It was something they'd figure out together. He grabbed Kurt by his own tie, pulling him closer. "It definitely isn't."