Geometry homework due tomorrow, red shoulder bag thrown across his torso, Warbler rehearsal after school, sleek chestnut hair, French test results today, Politics next, and passing notes with... pursed lips, lips, lips. Blushing cheeks, fingertips. His hand, just there... oh.

Blaine was sure he was going insane. For him, it was yet another busy whirlwind of school events at Dalton Academy and Blaine, ever the model student, had planned to stay on top of things.

What he hadn't planned for, however, was his mind going entirely out of control; losing track of upcoming tests and crucial rehearsals, sleeping through his alarms and almost missing classes, all but floundering his way through these important events in place of filling his mind with the wonder that was someone's bright, blue eyes.

What-? But why? It made no sense to Blaine. Kurt was his friend. Kurt was someone who had come to him for help, for protection, for courage. Kurt trusted him, and he wasn't about to completely destroy their relationship, whatever the hell it was... or was evolving to be.

But lately, sitting together in Politics with his best friend was beginning to feel more like a date. A date. The phrase sparked something in Blaine's mind.

Suddenly he could see the two of them sitting at Breadsticks, oodles of spaghetti between them, laughing with Kurt about the atrocities of the world around them. Blaine could see a flickering candle reflected in Kurt's eyes and himself fighting the urge - and eventually giving in - to lean across the table and...

Perhaps it wasn't such a preposterous idea, after all, thought Blaine, as his teacher handed him his test result slip. The paper revealed a B+, which would usually have Blaine ecstatic over the great mark, but today had opened Blaine's eyes to boundless new possibilities, and how could he concentrate when he had things to do, people to pursue?

And so this was the state in which Blaine found himself sitting next to Kurt in the cafeteria. The sight of Kurt absent-mindedly moving his food around his plate, lost in the pages of his latest copy of Vogue, had - for want of a better and less ironic phrase - Blaine's heart racing in his skin-tight jeans. Well, school pants. And they weren't skin-tight, exactly.

Oh, what this boy does to me!

"Did you get your test back?" Kurt's eyes flitted up to briefly meet Blaine's before looking down again to read.

"Um," Blaine let out a surprisingly shaky breath. "Yep, B+." I was happier about you, though, Blaine added mentally. "Could be better, but it's okay."

He saw Kurt offer him a friendly smile, and go back to reading.

Now, do it now! thought Blaine. Now, before he starts reading again! "Kurt, I'm happy."

Kurt's eyes met his again. "That's great, Blaine. I'm proud of you."

"No, Kurt." He'd misunderstood. "I mean, I'm happy."

"Err, yes." Blaine was beginning to feel a tinge of frustration coming from Kurt, whose sacrilegious Vogue-reading time was being disrupted. The feeling of being a nuisance to Kurt was somewhat misplaced, however, because this was the first time ever that Blaine had been the recipient. "Okay, that's nice, Blaine."

Despite the fire beginning in Kurt's expression, Blaine continued. "I'm happier than I've ever been," The sudden stuttering in Blaine's tone easily smothered Kurt's building frustration, so he looked up and finally met Blaine's trembling gaze. "And I think it's because of you."

Kurt's eyes widened slightly. "Blaine..."

And then everything to do with Kurt that had passed through Blaine's head for the past few days came tumbling out and he couldn't stop it, and for most of the part, Blaine had no clue what he was saying, but he knew that every word he spoke to Kurt's amazed face was the truth. And he himself could feel the love dripping from every syllable and he hoped Kurt could feel it, too. He was rambling, he knew, but Kurt needed the truth and everything beyond that because that was what Kurt deserved.

Then Kurt finally spoke, "Blaine, what are you saying to me?"

The older boy now smiled, and with an air of conviction, he asked, "Will you be my boyfriend, Kurt?"


Later...

Blaine had booked a table at Breadsticks for seven o'clock, and he couldn't breathe. Blaine was looking at his collection of ties nestled in his closet, and he still couldn't breathe. Blaine even tried playing guitar to soothe himself, strumming a little before giving up entirely because, yes, he still wasn't breathing properly.

He was panicking for no reason, he knew, but he had every reason to be nervous. This was a first date - which was crucial in every relationship (relationship, Blaine paused on the word) - and he wanted there to be so many other dates to follow, and so tonight had to be perfect. Better than perfect. Just like Kurt was.

And despite his very best attempts to calm himself, his heart continued to pound away without any sign of stopping.

He skipped his way down the stairs and headed into the kitchen. Maybe one day he would invite Kurt over to bake or something, and maybe they'd end up just throwing flour and beaten eggs at each other until the sun set. Maybe after they'd cleaned themselves, they'd cuddle in front of the TV and watch The Devil Wears Prada or whatever other movie Kurt would want to want because, damn it, Kurt could watch whatever the hell he liked because Blaine would do anything to make him happy.

Blaine poured himself a glass of apple juice, and felt his eyes flutter closed. Opening them again, he realised he was exhausted. The non-stop activity of the last few days had left him spent, what with all of the tests and studying and Warbler rehearsals and - sigh - so much time spent with Kurt.

He clambered back up the stairs, crawled to the middle of his bed and tucked himself in. A quick nap, was Blaine's last thought, and to the memory of Kurt's singing Blackbird, Blaine fell promptly asleep.


Later...

His eyes are so beautiful. I know I can't stop talking about them or looking at them, but they are. And his cheeks, they're so pink and beautiful, too. And I love his hair, it's perfect. And his fingers. I wonder what they'd look like twined with mine. And-

A loud car horn outside startled Blaine from his slumber. His room was in darkness, but there was enough light for Blaine to see that he was still dressed in his Dalton clothes. Why? Then he remembered his day, how he was in French class and how he was thinking about Kurt, and how he'd decided to ask Kurt out and how he'd bared his soul in the middle of the cafeteria...

Blaine whipped his head around and looked at the clock on his night stand. Rubbing his eyes, he saw it. Two-eleven in the morning!

No, Kurt! Please don't hate me, thought Blaine. He scrambled out of bed and started for the phone atop his dresser, evidently planning to call Kurt.

But then he paused, and without missing a beat, thoughts of Kurt's eyes and cheeks and hair and fingers fluttered back into his mind. Surely Kurt would forgive him, if he did it right, surely. He'd only just found him and won him. Blaine wasn't about to lose him. Not now, not ever.

So he hurriedly dressed in the ash-grey suit draped across the foot of his bed, plucked a light green tie from his tie rack and, securing the tie around his collar, he dashed down the the stairs, his car keys jangling loudly in his grasp. Opening the front door, Blaine smelled the rain before he saw or heard it. It was bucketing, the street a slick, glistening scene.

But despite the very real possibility of looking like a mess (of which Kurt would never approve in the first place) when he'd arrive at Kurt's house, Blaine bounded for his car and, with hair more dishevelled than usual and rain-smelling clothing soaked through, he drove straight to Kurt's house and briskly jogged up the cobblestone path to the front door.

The nerves, without Blaine's notice, had returned, but he couldn't focus on that now. He just needed to make things right again.

With the picture of Kurt's smile in his head, he knocked on the door. A moment passed, and he could see no movement from within the home. Should I have called first? thought Blaine. They're probably asleep - is this rude?

Blaine threw a glance at the street behind him, the slick road spotlighted by street-lights, the rain relentlessly pounding on the pavement. It was a perfect night to go dancing in the rain, and Blaine could serenade Kurt (though he could imagine Kurt complaining about the cold and wet, the accurate depiction of his best friend making Blaine smile) and it could very easily be one of the most romantic things he'd ever done in his entire life.

Singing in the rain, just singing in the rain, what a glorious feeling...

Blaine had been waiting for a few minutes now, and still Kurt hadn't answered the door. Maybe I should leave, thought Blaine sadly. Maybe he'd missed his chance, because surely he couldn't redeem himself after this. Kurt wouldn't have a word of it.

This can't be it, he thought, as his fingers twitched from the cold. A shiver sent itself up Blaine's spine and the very tempting warmth of his Volvo made itself known in Blaine's mind, but he wouldn't move.

Kurt was more important than being warm; Kurt was warmth. Kurt was the sun, he was happiness personified. He was pure love, through and through, and Blaine would never give up on love - he had never in the past, what with all of his struggles and setbacks, and he definitely wasn't going to start now.

And then as if on cue, the door creaked open and there Kurt suddenly stood.

"Hello, Blaine."


Author's note:

After I posted the first part last night, I had two reviews tell me that I should reveal why Blaine hadn't shown up at Kurt's house when he said he would. So here's what I perceived to be his version of events.

In order for this part to work, I had to tweak the first part so do please re-read it and let me know what you think! I also didn't want it to be overly angsty or anything, so I guess it's almost a rather poor excuse for being so late, but I wanted Blaine to have some sort of vulnerability, and so I made his excuse to be that he was so flipping nervous about his date with Kurt that he fell asleep and slept in way past what he was supposed to. That silly, adorable boy. I mean, as if you can't imagine him doing that!

(And Darren Criss fangirls, did you catch the little 'apple juice' mention? D-Crizzle does love him some apple juice, that GORGEOUS PIECE OF MAN.)

But yes, here you go! This story's well and truly finished, so please stay tuned, enjoy and review!