Something New:

a story of Klaine 'firsts'

Don't forget to submit a 'first' for me to write!

~First night together + First night in the same room at Kurt's, prompted by MissMarauder93 and flower pot girl

When Kurt walked into his bedroom – arms filled with blankets, two bags of cookies and a pile of Vogue magazines – there were many things he wasn't expecting to see.

A rhinoceros in a hula skirt was probably at the top of the list. Dumbledore was somewhere around item number ten and, just scraping into the top one hundred, was the sight of Blaine, not pining, not even a little bit naked and definitely not looking at all like he'd been waiting anxiously for Kurt to return. In fact, the hugely unexpected sight that Kurt walked in on was his boyfriend, back turned, headphones in, eyes glued to the screen of his iPhone and huddled on the floor under Kurt's desk to minimise the glare from the lights.

"What are you doing?"

Blaine jumped at Kurt's voice, promptly knocking his head on the underside of the desk, dropping his phone and yelping when the movement pulled the headphones from his ears. As Kurt watched with an expression half-amused, half-exasperated, Blaine scrambled to grab the headphones, tangling them in his haste to replace them. His shaking hands only worsening the problem, eventually Blaine was forced to compromise, shoving one bud in his left ear and letting the other dangle uselessly above his shoulder.

Kurt watched the whole debacle from the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as Blaine settled back into his nook, hunching his shoulders and curling closer around the dancing light of his iPhone's screen.

Looking away from his boyfriend, Kurt walked slowly to his bed, depositing his armful of items there. Kurt took his time to steady his pile of magazines, getting halfway through straightening them before deciding they should be ordered by his preference instead of volume number and having to re-arrange them all. Then he opened one of the bags of cookies with painstaking care, making a supreme effort not to let one crumb of its contents to fall onto the bed. Next, he pulled the top blanket from the pile and spread it over the bed, pushing its woollen edges out so it lay flat on top of his doona, which was silk and certainly wasn't allowed to get stains of any sort on it.

A squeak came from behind him, making Kurt turn around to look at Blaine, still under the desk. From the back it was difficult to tell, but Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that his boyfriend was grinning widely, trying to suppress an outburst of emotion at whatever was happening in his phone.

"You okay there?" Kurt asked drily, rolling his eyes when his boyfriend made no sign that he'd heard.

Picking up another blanket, Kurt considered throwing it at Blaine, before deciding that that would be unproductive. Instead, he sat down on his bed, shuffling back until he was leaning against the headboard, wringing the blanket in his hands and certainly not pretending that it was the neck of whatever idiot had created the stupid show that Blaine was so insanely addicted to.

So addicted to that tonight – their first night alone, together, ever – he would rather be watching the show than, well, watching Kurt.

And yes, Kurt had known that this whole relationship thing wouldn't exactly be what he expected. And yes, he had known that, as Rachel had once pointed out, dating boys isn't exactly always so fantastic. Andyes, he had known that – quirky fashion sense and love of Vogue aside – Blaine was essentially a typical boy.

But still, he had hoped that this might be different.

He had hoped that, while some girls' boyfriends miss a date or ignore them for an evening because the 'big game' is on (Kurt had never quite worked out how on earth you're supposed to know which game is the 'big' one), his boyfriend would be different. Sure, this wasn't a game that Blaine was watching, but for all intents and purposes, it seemed like the same scenario. Apparently, Blaine was not so different from everyone else.

"Um, Blaine?" Kurt ventured, giving up his assault on the blanket after deciding that a nasty letter to the show's creator would be much more effective.

Blaine waved a hand over his shoulder in a distinctly 'just a moment, old chap, I'm busy flossing my teeth, I'll get to you once I finish admiring this Monet artwork and reading War and Peace' way.

Kurt decided that an audition tape from Sugar showcasing her rendition of Led Zepplin's 9-minute epic, Stairway to Heaven, would be a more appropriate punishment to force on the show's unsuspecting creator.

Huffing out a sigh, Kurt kicked the remaining blanket off his bed, so irritated that he didn't even feel a pang of pain when the pure alpaca wool crumpled to a heap on the carpet.

This is what Blaine Anderson had decided to do on their first night alone together? No candles, no gifts, no declarations of undying love, not even a little bit of below-the-belt action. This. Blaine had sure been right when he'd said he sucked at romance.

It's not that Kurt was ungrateful. He understood that schedules were busy, school was difficult, and what with Glee club and homework and campaigning, there wasn't usually a lot of time to keep track of TV shows. But still, he had sort of hoped that tonight would be special. Special in an italics, fireworks, roses, screaming-out-in-ecstasy way. Not that he had any inflated expectations.

Unfortunately though, it was not to be, and as Blaine stayed huddled under the desk, Kurt found himself drifting off to sleep. It had, after all, been a busy day. A very busy day. A day that seemed to go on and on forever and ever. A day so impossibly droning and dragging and lagging. An incredibly long, unimaginably hard...

...day.

...

"Kurt?"

Kurt's eyes flew open at the sound. He was now lying on his side, the blanket he'd been clutching spread over his body, and Blaine perched on the bed nearby, leaning over to look in his eyes. But all of that was peripheral. Because, at a much closer proximity, Kurt could sense a bit of problem occurring under the blanket.

It was Blaine's fault, really. Blaine's fault for being funny and interesting and amazingly sexy and amazing gay and amazingly in love with Kurt. And, for the past hour, amazingly inattentive. So maybe Kurt's subconscious had gotten to thinking while he was sleeping. Maybe those subconscious thoughts had become a little bit more conscious, and a little more and a little more until they were decidedly not-conscious at all and in fact very physical thoughts with very physical consequences. Such as the one Kurt was dealing with now.

"Blaine!"

Kurt quickly sat up, his voice much higher-pitched than normal, and as he giggled and coughed and blushed, making a show of embarrassment, he was really just trying to buy himself some time and figure out a way to get Blaine as far away from him as possible. Because that smell and that stubble and those freaking lips should simply not be allowed when a boy was in his kind of state.

"You okay?" Blaine asked, totally oblivious to Kurt's efforts to create some distance between them.

"Yep. Fine."

"Good."

Smiling, Blaine leaned in, and before Kurt could dodge it, his lips were pressing close and moist and pushing hard and-

Kurt groaned mortifyingly loud, but Blaine just grinned and moved closer, pushing his boyfriend down, back against the pillows. Blaine's hand reached up to hold Kurt's cheek before running down his neck, over his shoulder, along his side and settling on his waist. Rolling up into the palm settled across his stomach, Kurt forgot entirely about his little problem beneath the blanket, both arms moving to wrap around the boy hovering above him. Blaine let himself be pulled closer, wondering vaguely why on earth he had been delaying this for so long.

Sure, the TV episode was good, but this? This was sensational. Society clearly had it wrong – what with its portrayal of sports-watching, beer-drinking men. This was what two guys were meant to do when home alone.

"Kurt..."

The word was practically a groan, uttered in a moment of freedom when Kurt's lips mercifully released Blaine's for a second before hungrily reclaiming them.

"Hmm?"

Blaine pulled away a little, opening his eyes. He managed to stop for the time it took for his gaze to sweep over his boyfriend's haphazard bed-hair, wide pupils and gaping red lips before giving in to temptation and diving back down again, murmuring, "You are so- God, incredibly-" he broke off as Kurt's teeth scraped his tongue, ending the sentence with another deep, incoherent noise.

With a new confidence inspired by the encouragement, Kurt slid his hips up again, this time not so careful to avoid altering Blaine's to his, uh... situation.

Blaine gasped at the contact, twitching sideways as if tempted to roll off. A thrill shot though Kurt's body as the hand kneading his waist tightened its grip and the kisses being showered on his lips – then suddenly on his cheek, his jaw, his chin, his neck – betrayed the opposite desire.

Pushing further down to where everything was closer, hotter, harder against him, Blaine moved his hand from Kurt's waist to pull the blanket out from between them. As his hand returned to Kurt's waist, his knuckles skimmed over the drawstring of Kurt's pyjama pants, and Blaine couldn't suppress the thought that only one layer was left between them...

Plus his own pants. And probably underwear too, because Kurt wasn't the type to go commando.

But then the words 'Kurt' and 'commando' collided in his head, and Blaine was lost to the realm of mortals, giving up all pretence and uselessly rutting his own 'situation' against Kurt.

Which, in retrospect, was not the best idea. Because the moment he felt it, Kurt stiffened (oh, ha-freaking-ha – the irony) and dropped his arms from around his boyfriend's neck. The sound of them landing on the bed with a fumph broke the sudden silence between the couple.

"Oh," Kurt said, somewhat shakily.

Above him, Blaine ground to halt, choking a little with the effort it took to stop the blissful movement that he had Only. Just. Started.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Kurt could feel himself blushing. Although, he was starting to suspect that this was a turned on blush, not an embarrassed one. It wasn't as if he was the one who'd been virtually dry humping himself a couple of seconds ago! But that was a weird and totally unnecessary thought.

"No, it's okay," he managed to get out, eyes looking anywhere but at Blaine. Wasn't that a fascinating chip in the paint on the ceiling! Kurt had simply never seen anything so deeply engaging in his life!

But Blaine had noticed. And, as usual, misinterpreted his boyfriend's shifting gaze.

"No, it's not okay. God, Kurt, I'm so sorry. You were just, I don't know- you seemed keen? But we both know I don't want to push you or make this go too fast or anything. I should've just..."

Kurt's eyes fixed on Blaine's, dangerously narrowed.

"Should've what? Waited for God knows how long until I made a move. Yeah, right, 'cause that's going to happen!"

Blaine relaxed at the comment, chuckled a little, and moved off Kurt to flop onto the covers beside him, facing the ceiling.

"It did happen just then. You with your- your hips."

This time, it was Kurt's turn to laugh, as he said, "Sure. Because it was my hips that had you all hot and bothered. Not something just a little further south."

Blaine lifted his hands to his face, pressing his palms into his eyes. The sound was muffled when he teased, his tone mock-serious, "Never underestimate the power of your hips, Kurt Hummel."

"I'll try not to."

"Good. They're incredible. You're incredible, actually," he added as an after-thought.

"Not adorable anymore?"

"Not nearly as adorable as before. Adorable conjures images of puppies and kittens, and I would sure not want a puppy pressing his – y'know... – up against me like you were. In fact, I've had that happen to me. Needless to say it did not result in the same reaction from me."

But Kurt had stopped listening halfway through his boyfriend's rant.

"So you didn't mind me pressing my... y'know, against you?"

Blaine, who had still been talking, broke off, turning his head to look at the side of Kurt's face.

"You think I minded?"

Kurt turned to face him, bottom lip clutched between his teeth. And maybe he was still pretty adorable, really.

"Did you?"

Laughing, Blaine sat up, reaching to tug Kurt with him so they were both sitting beside each other on the bed.

A flush flooded Blaine's cheeks as he gestured to his lap, where his jeans were doing nothing to disguise everything lurking beneath them.

"Does it seem like I minded?" he asked rhetorically, happy to take the joke at his own expense.

Kurt rolled his eyes, his own cheeks reddening as his stare lingered on Blaine's lap for a little too long. When he looked back at his boyfriend's eyes, he was grinning.

"I have a question about that actually," Kurt said, suddenly all business. As if he totally wasn't talking about the very unsubtle bulge in Blaine's pants. Even though he was.

Blaine raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

Kurt was biting his lip again, but this time it was purposely coy and edging quickly away from adorable.

"What on earth were you watching that got you like that?"

...

Burt, Carole and Finn arrived home in the early hours of the morning. Rubbing his eyes, Finn wandered off to bed with a yawned goodbye, and Carole shot Burt a tired smile before following her son upstairs.

How in God's name a family could talk for quite as long as Rachel's had Burt would never understand. As he plodded sleepily into the lounge room, he was only grateful for the fact that the singing had been kept to minimum. Finn had assured him and Carole that this, at least, was a small mercy.

It took about ten seconds of staring dumbly at the couch for Burt to finally comprehend that it was utterly bare of one Blaine Anderson. He wasn't exactly about to have a heart attack (too soon?) at the revelation, but he still grumbled out a breath before turning and heading upstairs to his son's room. If he found out that any funny business had gone on whatsoever, Kurt would be grounded until the end of the century. And that phrase had taken on a whole new meaning since the year 2000 had rolled past.

Trudging along the hallway, away from the inviting bedside lamp that Carole had turned on in their bedroom, Burt paused at Kurt's door, wondering what sort of sight he should prepare himself for. In his last year with the boys, he had walked in on some pretty serious stuff, but both Finn and Kurt were getting a lot better at hiding, and these days all Burt knew for sure was that he didn't really know what was going on.

But Kurt's door was open a crack, and he'd known that the family would be home at some stage, so as Burt took a deep breath and pushed it open, he desperately tried to reason that there was no way the sight that met him could be too scarring.

When Burt looked into his son's room, there were a lot of things he hadn't been expecting to see.

A walrus in a pirate hat was probably at the top of the list. Gandalf was somewhere around item number ten and, just scraping into the top one hundred, was the sight of Blaine – fully clothed! – curled comfortably around Kurt. Together, it was clear they had no regard for the outside world with all its judgements and rules and stupid, stupid people, happy to be just two teenagers in love, taking the time to fall asleep together. A blanket was draped over the pair, as if they couldn't quite convince themselves that it was wise to get under the covers, and their feet stuck out from its end, Blaine's sock-clad toes stretching out to tickle Kurt's ankles.

And, sure, they could've staged this whole thing, created an innocent facade to cover up the dark and dirty deeds that had truly gone down while Finn, Carole and Burt were gone, but somehow Burt doubted it. Something about the way Blaine's arm curved around Kurt's waist, his hand resting on top of the blanket where their fingers were entwined, seemed to suggest that actually these were just two boys who were very much in love, but very much not ready to get too serious too soon.

They were still kids, after all, Burt reasoned, backing out of Kurt's room and shutting the door as he left. They had the rest of their lives to get started on all this wonderful, complicated, worth-it-in-the-end adult stuff.

Besides, the socks on Blaine's feet just screamed virgin.

Now THAT is a proper chapter!

I've been hyperactive for approximately four hours now. It started with me sitting under my desk hyperventilating because the new Glee episode was out, and it ended with this. A story that started the same as mine but then went in a very different direction to reality. Unfortunately.

If you've seen The Purple Piano Project there are a few little in-jokes in this. If not, I don't think anything was particularly spoiler-ish. Too late to warn you now if it was!