Kurt Hummel was seriously starting to question his own sanity. Seriously, if you had ever asked him before, he'd have bet on his most precious Vogue-inspired outfit that he'd never become that type of love-struck guy who'd helplessly drool and wait for his boyfriend to show up at his door…And yet here he was, sitting cross-legged on his comforter, his cell phone in front of him, pretending to be writing an English essay on a still blank page of his laptop, which was conveniently placed on the bed so that it didn't cover the sight of the phone. He was waiting. He had had the whole kiss scene and the feeling of Blaine's lips on rewind in his head for the whole week and he could swear he still tasted Blaine if he licked his lips. No. No. Concentration was needed, because even though the volume of his ringtone was so high he could probably hear it from a different country, Blaine-related fantasies could still make him completely unaware of his surroundings…And that was no good. But why hadn't he called yet? He said he'd have! Did Kurt do something wrong? That is, apart from sending something like two or three text messages to ask him what he was up to this weekend (so much for being subtle)? Long-distance relationships sucked, and they did even more when it was Friday afternoon and you still hadn't any plans for the weekend.

Text me, call me, text me , he started reciting in his mind like a mantra, or you could always do both, you know, text me to know if I am free and then call me but damn, he should really get a grip. And stop obsessing too much. And he really, really had to write that essay.

He shifted his gaze with difficulty to his desktop, and started typing something Shakespeare related, hoping that the 20% of his brain that wasn't currently obsessing with Blaine would come up with something at least readable. A quick glance to the right confirmed that the laughing photo of Blaine, the screen saver of his phone, was still there, no signs of missed calls or texts. He unwillingly returned to stare at the open document on his desktop, until he allowed himself to read the few words he had written. And then he snorted. Sure, like he could start the assignment by saying that "…Shakespeare in this sonnet had clearly meant to call or text him…". Yeah, so much for trusting the Blaine-non-obsessed cells of his brain.

But then a shrill sound reached his ears and it was pure, absolute joy in his head until, after fumbling with bed covers and the laptop, he found his cell phone completely silent. What the hell? He quickly returned to his senses and realized that what he heard was actually the doorbell ringing.And since the afternoon could only progress from bad to worse, he also realized he actually had to go downstairs and see who the heck it was, since he was at home alone. Figures, he thought while debating whether it could be worth leaving his phone unobserved for the strictly necessary amount of time he needed to open the door and get rid of the annoyance. His brain intervened in his inner debate to make him notice that his cell phone could be conveniently put in his pocket and be carried downstairs, and suddenly he was aware of the benefits of technology and cell phones and he was so going to make the most of this discovery.

Whoever was standing at the door rang the doorbell once again and Kurt leapt to his feet, pocketed his phone and jogged downstairs, more annoyed at each step. And granted, his appearance was not the greatest, but his yoga pants and wrinkled t-shirt would have to do this once, because being in love and waiting for your boyfriend to call was a damn stressful activity and one could not afford to be picky in these extreme situations, thankyouverymuch.

He opened the door in a rush, lips parted to say the first thing that came to his mind to get rid of whomever was outside, when his brain experienced a blackout, because Blaine was at less than two meters from him and looked so, so edible and…actually scratch that, he was absolutely yummy, he was smiling his dazzling smile, head slightly cocked on one side, just a hint of blush because he probably didn't know whether his being there without any notice would be appreciated and…yes, Kurt's face was probably showing his inner struggle for sanity, because Blaine's grin widened and he simply said:

-Surprise! May…may I come in?

Kurt, only slightly aware that his jaw was somewhere near the floor, blurted:

-Blaine! I…you…I was…I mean, I was not expecting…Just…obviously you can come inside, I…Uhm…I just…didn't expect, though I did missed you so much and you see, I'm wearing the most disgraceful outfit you'd ever see me in, because I…I…well…

Luckily, Blaine just chuckled and came closer, planting his lips on Kurt's lips in the sweetest of kisses, making the other boy melt in his arms, thoughts swirling, his head spinning and his veins humming with electricity.

-Missed you too…-he murmured when the kiss was over, his forehead still on Kurt's one, his breath uneven.

-…and I still think you're adorable, even when your t-shirt is wrinkled and you are so taken aback that you stutter and blush and… I love you. By the way, you were inviting me in, weren't you?

Kurt watched as Blaine's smile widened and shook his head, both for clarity and because he couldn't believe his ears and eyes. My god, was he in love…He could feel it bubbling right inside of him. He told Blaine he loved him right away, almost breathlessly, and Blaine just brushed his cheek with the back of his hand, softly murmuring "I know.." before smiling once again.

Kurt stepped back slightly dazed to let him in and closed the door. There was no way in hell he'd ever wear yoga pants and wrinkled t-shirts while being at home again. No damn way.