A/N- thanks for the great response! I forgot to mention that this story also talks about Finn's passing, though it has already happened when this story takes place. As in canon, I make no assumptions of how he died, rather talk about how he lived.


"So...how was he?" Rachel Berry asks excitedly, digging her best friend Kurt in the ribs.

"Rachel!" Kurt says under his breath. Looking around the cramped airplane he checks to see if anyone seems to be listening in, but they all seem too distracted and he leans closer to his friend to whisper. "He was... Incredibly sweet."

He thinks back to the events of the previous night- what precious little he can remember. The stranger had been persistent, yet not so determined as to be off putting. He had simply wanted to be in Kurt's company and not in his pants- as the lack of action that night had proved. The very thought- that it was Kurt's personality he found appealing rather than the possibility of a lay- thrilled Kurt more than he ever thought possible, and he had found himself enjoying a raucous, fun and exhilarating night in the young mans company. He knew that much. It had been a good time. He can remember laughing a lot, dancing and drinking. There's a vague recollection of a limo ride along the strip, and he knows they went back to his room together, but that's as far as it goes. Still, he's pretty sure he would have remembered if things had turned sour, so why had he woken up alone? That's the part he can't fathom, and if he's honest, that's the part that stings. No note, no number, no evidence that that guy had been there at all, except for the memory of his deep amber eyes and perfect smile. The sweet blush staining his cheeks when he had kissed the back of Kurt's hand, and how his heart had lurched in pleasure and surprise when they made and held eye contact. The feel of his body pressed close to Kurt's as they danced- wildly erotic and much more outlandish than Kurt would ever dream of being back home- makes desire flare in the pit of his stomach causing him to squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

"But how was he at...y'know?" Rachel asks, embarrassed, yet wanting to know.

"We didn't...do anything," Kurt whispers back.

"Really?" Rachel asks in surprise. "Seriously? Nothing?"

Kurt blushes, fiddling with his coke can and casting his eyes downwards. "No. At least...there was no...ahem, evidence," he says, now positively glowing with embarrassment. "I was fully clothed when I woke, and the sheets were clean. I couldn't see any..."

"Yes, I know," Rachel says primly.

"In the trash and nothing hurt so...yeah. I don't think we did anything."

"You don't think!" Rachel hisses. "Honestly Kurt, how drunk were you? Oh my god! What if you were roofied?"

"Oh please," he scoffs. "I wasn't roofied. I may not know the guy, but I do know he wasn't the type to do that. I told you, he was sweet. A real gentleman."

"So what now?"

"Nothing," Kurt shrugs. "I don't know his name, his number, where he lives...nothing about him at all. When I woke up this morning he'd bailed."

"Aw, Kurt," Rachel says, patting his hand sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he sighs with a tight smile. "It really sucks."

"So uh...yeah...I just really need this annulled," Blaine tells the attorney. "Preferably before my parents find out. Or anyone, really."

"That shouldn't be a problem," she smiles across the desk at him. "You were both under the influence, you say you haven't consummated the marriage," she smirks, clearly not believing him, "and you hadn't met before. I'll draw the documents up for you both to sign."

"Uh..." Blaine starts nervously, fiddling with his bow tie. "Is it possible that...uh...I could sign the documents for both of us?"

"No," she laughs. "Your...friend...will need to sign for himself."

Blaine sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. "Oh crap."

"Care to explain?"

"I don't know anything about him," he whispers, bright red with shame. "We didn't exchange numbers or anything, I only know his name from the marriage certificate. I don't know where he lives or...or even if he's gay."

"Well his sexuality is irrelevant, but we can track him down. You gave addresses to the chapel clerk, yes?"

"I don't know," Blaine cries in desperation. "Did we? Oh god," he moans. "I can't believe this is happening. I'm a nice person, I'm not a rebel. I don't do things like this."

"You don't need me to point out that you already did," she says, feeling sorry for the young man in front of her who looks completely terrified. "But really, don't worry. Here," She types something and waits for her screen to bring up the relevant page. "I've already contacted the venue where you married and asked them to provide the info. It'll be with me by now- Vegas chapels are well used to such requests. Then all we have to do is mail him the papers and he can sign and return them- job done."

"Thank goodness," Blaine sighs in relief. "I was so worried. I thought I'd be..."

"Ah." The attorney chews her lip for a second, eyes flicking to Blaine. "We might have a problem."

"What?" Blaine shrieks. "What kind of a problem?"

"It seems that Mr. Hummel listed his address as your address, here in New York."

"My address?" he asks quietly. "How did he know my address?"

"I'm guessing you filled the form in for him?" she tries. "Whatever happened, you two are listed as sharing the same address, and it's yours."

Blaine sits in stunned silence for a moment, his mind desperately working overtime as he tries to figure out what the fuck he's supposed to do now. "Oh!" he says, suddenly brightening. "If he's given a false address, we can get it annulled on grounds of dishonesty, yes?"

"Yes," the attorney says slowly. "But you still need him to sign the forms."

"Fucking...fuck!" Blaine shouts loudly. "I'm sorry," he says hastily. "I didn't mean to curse like that. I'm a little stressed."

"I would be too, if I'd messed up like you have."

"Thanks." Blaine slides down low in his chair and looks to the ceiling as if hoping for some kind of divine intervention. "So what are my options?"

"Well... The state of Nevada can issue an annulment without the other party being present..." She holds her hand up to stop Blaine from interrupting. "But you have to be a resident there for at least six weeks before you can even apply."

"Fuck. I think my absence from class might be noticed. And my dad would definitely start to question my life choices."

"Other than that, there's not much left. Hire a private detective to try and locate him, or search about online. He might have a twitter or Facebook account and you can contact him that way?"

"I'll try that," he says, offering a weak smile. "Otherwise..."

"Otherwise you'll stay married to someone you'll never see again, until he tries to marry someone else and finds out he's unwittingly a bigamist...and then I'd say it's a pretty safe bet that he'd come looking for you."

Not knowing what else to do, Blaine retreats into a world of silence. He attends class but barely participates, he goes to his job in the music store two blocks away but opts to stay out the back wherever possible, and he resolutely, steadfastly avoids his roommate at all costs. She notices, of course, and takes to standing outside the shop until his shift finishes and he's forced to walk home with her, or she creeps into his room in the early hours, scaring the life out of him when he wakes.

"Just tell me what it is," Santana says desperately.

It has been four weeks since their return from Vegas, and Blaine is still no closer to figuring out what on earth he should do. He's trawled the internet for hours, having thought that the name Kurt Hummel must be fairly unique- but apparently not. Facebook had thrown up hundreds of answers- mainly all European based apart from one guy in the US whose profile picture was of a man with the biggest, busiest beard that Blaine had ever seen. Twitter had suggested various porn stars, and he had ended up wasting hours on tumblr looking at cats, but still didn't find his mystery husband.

"Will you quit?" he snaps at his friend, rolling over and burying his head under the pillow. "It's five thirty."

"Yeah, and I can't sleep because your attitude is bugging the shit out of me," she says, climbing under the covers much to his annoyance. "You've not been right since we returned from Vegas."

"I've been fine," comes the muffled response.

"No, you haven't. Now just tell me. You're not still feeling bad about your mystery man, are you?"

Blaine hesitates under the pillow, biting his lip to keep from blurting it all out. There is the potential, of course, that Santana could help him with this. That she could throw up ideas or possibilities that Blaine hasn't thought of so far...

But there's also the possibility that she will laugh for hours, tell her girlfriend and everyone they've ever known, post it on every social media site known to man and then torture him about it until the end of time.

Blaine thinks it would be the latter.

And if his parents found out... Well. That possibility doesn't quite bear thinking about. He likes the dynamic of their relationship now. He has a credit card and a monthly allowance and in return he keeps himself to himself and stays in New York- out of sight. The source of eternal disappointment, he really doesn't want to bring yet more shame on the family by admitting he accidentally got married and now seems unable to locate his husband.

So Blaine emerges from the pillow, forcing a smile on his face and making his voice sound perfectly cheerful when he tells her "No, I don't feel bad. It is what it is. Que Sera Sera and all that. Now please leave me to sleep. I don't have work until eleven."

"Fine," she huffs, marching toward the door. "But don't forget tonight."

"Tonight? What's tonight?"

"Dani's birthday, remember? We're going out."

Blaine groans, staring up at the ceiling. "Santana, I really don't want to."

"Tough shit. We're meeting at Carlos at eight."

Really, Blaine doesn't mind going out, he supposes as he walks to work in the bright sunshine of early summer. He doesn't have many close friends- in fact it's pretty much limited to Santana- but he does have a small group of people he enjoys spending time with. There's the guys from work, for a start- Paul, Alex and Sam. He gets along well with them and they all enjoy working in the quirky music store which sells old vinyl records and rare albums along with sheet music to just about every song ever written. Then there's a few people from college, with whom he has a lot of shared interests and has spent many afternoons with, sitting in coffee shops and putting the world to rights. Santana's friends too; they seem to like him and invite him along whenever they head to a bar like they're doing tonight.

No, he's not lonely. He's just...not socially forthcoming. He thinks that's the best way to describe it. Painfully shy since childhood, his attachment to Santana came because she would happily answer for him and make decisions on his behalf. They were separated in second grade- the principal of Elmhurst Elementary said that their relationship was detrimental to Blaine's confidence, and that he must learn to voice his own opinions and make friends by himself. After six weeks of screaming tantrums every morning, feigning of illness and even running away once, his parents gave in and went to the school, asking for him to be moved back into Santana's class.

As they both got older he had improved slightly, mainly thanks to his friend. Always smart, she had learned early on that if you didn't ask Blaine direct questions in a conversation, he would simply sit on the sidelines. So she targeted him, asking him his opinion on a subject when others were present, knowing full well he was far too polite not to answer with everyone looking on, and gradually he began to make friends.

They stayed best friends even when they both went to different high schools- of course there really was no way she could join him at Dalton All Boys Academy. He thought he would sink, and he knew everyone was standing by, waiting for the inevitable failure and his begging to be allowed home. But to everyone's surprise- not least his own- he had thrived. Initially he had only boarded during the week, but when he entered into his sophomore year he had asked if he could stay weekends too. His parents had readily agreed, and bought him a car so he could still get home whenever he wanted. He didn't really use it for that though, he used it to drive to the less salubrious area of Lima, Ohio every weekend to spend time with Santana instead as they both struggled to come to terms with their sexuality and being gay in a less than accepting society.

He was safe at Dalton though. He joined their show choir- The Warblers- and found that singing and dancing were one of his favorite ways to while away the time. Santana had been astounded, and teased him endlessly, telling him he couldn't be more of a stereotypical gay, but eventually she had reassured him that she actually thought him really rather brave and was incredibly proud. Shortly after, she joined the show choir at her own school- Brookside High- and finally found her own happiness with her first girlfriend.

That part never happened for Blaine. He had crushes, sure. He was also pretty sure a guy named Sebastian liked him during their senior year. But he certainly didn't like him back, and even if he had, he would have been far too shy to do anything about it. He moved to New York almost immediately after graduation; found a tiny two bedroom apartment and waited for the inevitable knock which came two weeks later. Santana had arrived, and simply announced she now lived there too. That was that. He had paid her rent for a while, working two jobs until college started and he gladly quit the supermarket and stayed with the music store. Santana found a job at the spotlight diner as a singing waitress, which still allowed her the opportunity to sing and dance and be in the limelight as well as leading her to Dani, a sweet girl who made Santana smile like Blaine had never seen.

And Blaine found himself happy with his life, settled. But even so, he would never be so bold as to call any of his friends up and ask if they fancied going to the movies, or to get pizza. They could say no, for a start, and then he'd be embarrassed. Or worse, they could accept and then spend the evening being bored by his company, and then he'd lose all his friends once they realized how dull he actually was. So he just waited until either Santana dragged him out- like tonight- or someone had a birthday and he was included in a group invite. The rest of the time he spent at home, reading, playing their old beat up piano, or- more recently- trying to track down the elusive Kurt Hummel.

He resolves not to dwell on the fact that he is- technically- a married man, and to focus on his work and the impending night out instead and to his surprise, it's actually quite easy to do. He forces himself to work the register that day, meaning he's busy trying to make small talk with customers- an act which he finds excruciating but infinitely more preferable to wallowing. He walks home with Alex and Paul after his shift, and rushes upstairs to take a quick shower and change before heading back out the door, eating a bagel on his way.

He should have eaten more, he realizes when the bar starts spinning that night after only two beers. Despite his excesses in Vegas, he's only a very moderate drinker at best. The occasional bottle of wine shared with Santana and Dani maybe, or a couple of beers after work with the guys, but that's about it. He still finds it miraculous that the Vegas trip didn't hospitalize him. He ended up with a husband instead though, and he's not sure which one is worse.

"No bow tie?" Santana asks him, taking in his tight polo shirt and jeans.

"Not today," he says shyly. "I'm not really in the mood."

"We're going to Pyramid!" Dani calls across the table to him. He smiles and nods tightly, turning to Santana.

"I don't really..."

"Don't!" she screeches loudly. "You're coming whether you like it or not. They've got a seventies night on. Your kind of music."

"But it's a gay club," he moans.

"You're gay!" Santana laughs.

"I know, but I..." he trails off, aware of Dani's eyes on him as well as the entire table of her work friends. "Okay," he says quietly. "Sure."

If there is one thing Blaine hates, it's nightclubs. Especially gay ones. The music is loud, there's no conversation, just endless dancing which he never feels quite comfortable doing without a partner unless it's a well practised choreographed routine, and if it's a gay club he feels as if all eyes are on him- the eighteen year old, never been kissed virgin who sticks out like a sore thumb. He heads for the bar right away, figuring the best option will be to down a couple more beers before he's dragged to the dance floor by a drunken Dani and Santana.

"Beer please," Blaine calls, then forgets all about his order completely.

"Vegas boy!"

"Aaaahhhhh!"

Blaine is not usually a screamer, but scream he does, in sheer terror at finally coming face to face with his...well, he can't quite bring himself to think any further than that when Kurt raises an eyebrow at him and calmly sets his empty glass down on the bar.

"Well. Not quite the greeting I'm used to, but we'll go with it," he says, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "You owe me an explanation."

"I do," Blaine nods, tugging at his shirt collar which suddenly seems unbearably tight. "Uh..."

"Is that it?" Kurt asks. "You ran out on me."

"I know, um...sorry about that," Blaine says, bright red and staring at the floor. "I didn't know what else to do."

"I was looking forward to getting to know you a little better, if you know what I mean," Kurt says seductively, sliding from his stool and stepping closer, which makes Blaine immediately step on the toes of the lady behind him.

"Sorry, sorry," he says to each of them in turn. "I didn't know what else to do," he implores.

"You've said that."

"Oh. Well. I didn't," he says weakly. "I've never been in that situation before and...I wasn't really sure of the etiquette."

"You've never been in what situation?" Kurt asks slowly.

"I've never...ahem...slept with someone...in the same bed, I mean." He is blushing furiously, he knows, and is far too intimidated to even make eye contact.

"Oh."

"Have you?"

"Yeah," Kurt laughs, "lots of times."

"Oh." Blaine stares and stares at the floor.

"But never with another guy."

"Oh?" Blaine looks up sharply and wishes he hadn't because holy shit, he is suddenly face to face with beauty personified. He simply cannot stop staring, though he's pretty sure Kurt will be expecting him to talk again at some point, but...but...but he's all angular. Sharp features which are softened by twinkling blue eyes and a small beguiling smile on perfectly red lips which Blaine desperately wants to feel on his own. Kurt is dressed entirely in black- jeans, boots and shirt, with a white and gray scarf that seems to set everything off perfectly.

And then a sudden moment of complete lunacy invades Blaine's head where he mentally congratulates himself for marrying that.

Fuck.

"You're not gay?"

"I'm gay," Kurt says evenly. "But the only person who's ever shared my bed has been my roommate, Rachel. We've had quite a lot of sleepovers."

"I see."

"So... Vegas."

"Hmm?" Blaine hopes he sounds nonchalant, but he's pretty sure he just comes over as a frightened mouse.

"Quite the night, huh?"

"I'm not sure," Blaine says, willing himself to speak up. "I don't remember much but..."

"Neither do I," Kurt admits with a laugh. "I know we danced, and I have some vague recollection of a limo?"

"Me too!" Blaine laughs. "But I don't know what we were doing. All I know is that when we woke up..."

"You regretted everything," Kurt finishes for him.

"No! Not at all. I only regret running out on you like that. I've been trying to find you..."

"You have?" Kurt smiles broadly, and Blaine can feel his heart start to race with a longing to kiss this striking young man in front of him.

"I have," he nods, and swallows hard. "Uh...Kurt..."

"You remembered my name?" Kurt positively beams at this, and reaches out to touch him lightly on the arm, his features softening.

Blaine wants to say no, that he's only learned it through staring at their marriage certificate at least twenty seven times a day...but he doesn't quite know how. Instead, all he can come up with is "Can I buy you a drink?"

"No," Kurt says firmly, backing up hastily when Blaine's face falls. "I mean...you can...yes. I'd like that. But...maybe coffee? There's an all night diner a block over."

"Yeah," Blaine breathes with a smile, figuring they can talk everything over in quieter surroundings. "Yeah, that'd be good. Let's go."

"I'm really sorry, but I don't even remember your name," Kurt says as they walk along.

"Oh. Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

"So, Blaine Anderson," Kurt says, flirting as best he can and really, really liking the way his name sounds. "Do you live in the city?"

"Yeah. Uh...I'm in college. Freshman."

"Really? Me too," Kurt smiles. "College that is. Second year. So...you're eighteen?"

Blaine nods.

"I see. I'm nineteen."

"Right," Blaine says politely, wondering why all his conversation skills have deserted him, then remembering he didn't have any to start with.

Married.

He must tell Kurt they're married.

"You have really pretty eyes," Kurt says, smiling as the neon sign from the diner flashes above their heads, highlighting him in alternate shades of blue and pink. "Um..."

"Thank you," Blaine says sincerely, saving the poor man any blushes as he holds open the door for him to step inside. He has time to asses the situation while they look over the menu- or pretend to, anyway- as Blaine can tell Kurt is studying him too. If Kurt had been a jerk, Blaine could have quite easily told him about the accidental wedding and demanded he signs the papers. Well...it wouldn't have been all that easy, but it would have been easier than the situation he now finds himself in. Kurt is wonderful, and Blaine can see exactly why he was attracted to him instantly in his drunken state a month ago. Not only is he incredibly striking and beautiful- which instantly reduces Blaine's capacity to think straight by at least fifty per cent- he is sweet with it. Funny, warm and shy...and though Blaine knows there's no way he's as inexperienced as he is, Kurt is wonderfully perfect and Blaine is crushing heavily...on his own husband.

The biggest problem his clouded judgement is trying to deal with right now, is whether to be entirely selfish and see where this night takes them- resolving to tell Kurt tomorrow- or whether to come clean immediately and say goodbye to his first chance of ever getting a real kiss, much less anything else.

"Can I just say," Blaine says, voice squeaking slightly with nerves. "You're incredibly beautiful."

He chooses the first option.

Snapping his menu shut, a pink glow high on his cheeks, Kurt shakes his head and looks down. "Wow."

"Sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have..."

"You should have," Kurt says, looking up at him. "Yeah. Um..."

"Maybe it's not the done thing, to tell a guy he's beautiful," Blaine worries.

"No, it's not," Kurt tells him honestly. "Which is why it's quite simply the best compliment I've ever received."

"Oh," he smiles shyly, pleasure bubbling up inside at finally having done something right. He's made Kurt happy and oh, what a wonderful feeling that is.

"Would you like to...maybe...get coffee at my place instead?" Kurt asks, and Blaine is pretty sure he can see him trying to swallow his nerves, and his thoughts are only confounded when Kurt makes to bite at his nails before sitting sharply on his hands.

"Yeah," Blaine breathes, now completely captured and entranced by the striking young man and unable to believe his luck. "Yeah, I'd really...that'd be good. Yeah. Thank you."

"Welcome," Kurt smiles shyly, sliding back out of the booth and waiting for Blaine to join him. "It's uh...it's not far," he says, as they step outside. "Um...I should probably apologize for disrupting your evenings plans," he smiles, but Blaine is quick to reassure.

"Really, it's a welcome disruption. Honestly. I was out for a friend's birthday, but I doubt I'll be missed," he says, thinking of Dani and Santana who are probably too busy dancing to notice his absence. "Clubs and bars aren't really my scene," he adds with a shy laugh. "Which is crazy since we've only met twice and twice it's been in some kind of establishment serving alcohol...but...yeah. Not really my thing at all."

"Nor mine," Kurt smiles back, and then his eyes widen as he remembers. "Oh shit! Rachel!"

"Your roommate?"

"Yeah," he sighs, stopping on the sidewalk and looking back in the direction of the club, antagonizing over whether to return. "I was supposed to be meeting her there. She wanted to dance among non-threatening gays," he explains. "She's not in a great place and she didn't want to be hit on, just wanted to lose herself in music for a while. Fuck."

"Oh." Blaine tries not to let his disappointment show as he scuffs his shoe against the sidewalk and bites his lip. "Well...we can go back."

"Yeah," Kurt mutters, then turns to look at him. "Actually, no. You know what? She'll be okay. I'll send her a text. Of course, there's the possibility she might come home once she realizes I'm a no show, but we can go to my room, right?"

"Erm..." Blaine squeaks. "Right. I guess. Yeah."

"Okay." Firing off a quick text, he then pockets his phone and looks at Blaine with a bright smile. "Let's go...get coffee."

They walk along in silence, Blaine opening his mouth several times to say something that really should start with "You know, when we were in Vegas..." but he loses his nerve each time because really, how do you approach such a subject? There's no helpful tips on Google...he's already looked. And anyway, even if there was, Kurt's company is so completely engaging he knows he'd forget entirely what it is he's trying to say and fluff his words horribly. He'll wait until the novelty of a good looking guy paying him attention has worn off a little, and then he'll tell him.

Maybe.

Kurt lets them into a small building and leads him up a narrow staircase. He unlocks the door and motions for Blaine to go ahead, speaking quietly from behind. "It's uh...it's not great, I guess. But it's home."

"It's lovely," Blaine smiles, blushes, stares at the floor then tries again. "I mean...great. Yeah."

Kurt's apartment is homey, comforting and cosy. Two large inviting couches fill the living room along with a table and chairs and a massive bookcase which is rammed full. Three doors lead off the room, bedrooms and a bathroom, Blaine supposes, and an arch leads to the small kitchen, into which Blaine follows Kurt who is now rummaging in the fridge.

"I don't know if you're hungry," he says, but he's muffled so Blaine steps closer. "I made brownies earlier, or there's leftover pie if you...Oh!" He stands and turns, coming face to face and chest to chest with Blaine who is directly on his heels.

"Sorry!" he cries, completely mortified. "Sorry. Too close. Yeah. Sorry. I just couldn't hear very well and I... Sorry," he says again, quietly, but Kurt notices he hasn't moved.

Sighing, he gently guides Blaine backward, making him jump like a startled rabbit. Closing the fridge, he sets the pie on the counter and turns back, taking Blaine's hands in his and smiling at the perfect feel of their fingers together. "Look. I'm just gonna say this to save there being any more awkwardness. I like you, Blaine. A lot."

The silence sounds deafening to both of them as Kurt worries he's seriously scared him off and Blaine tries to think of something...anything to say, but it is Kurt that beats him to it.

"Okay," he says, letting go of Blaine's hands and laughing nervously. "That actually just made things a whole lot worse. Um..."

Blaine knows it's over to him now, but he still can't find any words, so he does the only thing he can do, the only thing he wants to do. He leans in and kisses him.

It's not much- a barely there touch of the lips- but it has Kurt pulling back with wide eyes, staring at Blaine in stunned amazement before he lets his whole face light up with an enormous grin.

Blaine grins back, completely abashed yet elated and he rubs the back of his neck shyly. "I um...I..." he stammers before deciding to quieten his mouth by kissing Kurt again. There's more pressure this time, and his eyes flutter closed as he brings one shaking hand up to Kurt's waist, who backs up against the counter, breaking the kiss again to stare at him.

"So you like me too?"

Nodding, and spurred on by Kurt's obvious enjoyment, Blaine leans in again, cupping Kurt's cheek with his palm and sliding his fingers into his soft hair. And oh, suddenly Kurt is kissing back, his arms going around Blaine's waist and pulling the bottom half of his body closer as their mouths move together.

Blaine is pretty sure the whole of New York State is able to hear his hammering heart right now, but he really couldn't care less when Kurt opens his mouth a little wider and Blaine dares to run his tongue along his soft lips. It's all he can do not to cheer loudly when Kurt moans, but he settles for congratulating himself on being able to kiss another man and not fuck it up entirely.

"Oh my..." Kurt says when they finally break. His chest is heaving, his cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling, and it thrills Blaine intensely to know that he's done that. "Um...do you want to...um...heh." It becomes Kurt's turn to rub the back of his neck as he tries to figure out what it is he's trying to ask, but eventually he looks up again. "Did you want to move this to the couch?" he asks, then thumps his forehead. "That sounded truly terrible. I'm sorry. I'm not some kind of lothario trying to get into your pants," he smiles. "I just..."

"Yes."

"Oh."

Kurt shuts up and taking Blaine's hand, leads him into the living room, turning the main light off and just leaving a small side lamp on. "You okay?" he asks, gently guiding Blaine to sit next to him, as if fearful he might break.

"I'm better than okay," he answers honestly. "I really like you too, Kurt," he says, resting one hand on his knee. "Uh..."

"You don't need to say anything else," Kurt grins, playing with Blaine's fingers. "We can just..."

"Make out?" Blaine asks hopefully, which makes Kurt laugh loudly.

"Exactly."

And this time Kurt directs the kiss. Much bolder than Blaine, he guides the startled boy back into the corner of the couch, kissing him passionately and running one hand around to the back of his neck, fingers touching a mixture of sticky gel and soft curls. Blaine releases a soft, stuttered moan at the feel of Kurt's tongue in his mouth and responds eagerly, perhaps a little too eagerly but Kurt doesn't seem to mind given the way in which he presses closer to him and...

"Ahh!" Blaine says, breaking the kiss and bringing his knee up between their bodies.

"Something the matter?" Kurt asks, pulling back to look at him, eyes dark with lust.

"Uh..." Blaine wills himself to man up. He's eighteen, for goodness sake. "That was unexpected, that's all," he says as lightly as he can.

"Oh. Well...you kind of have that effect on me," Kurt smiles. "You're really hot."

"Oh please," Blaine scoffs. "I'm not hot."

"Blaine, shut up. You're kissing me like I've never been kissed before and you're freaking beautiful. I'm telling you, it all adds up to one hot package."

"Oh," Blaine says softly, lowering his knee and in a daring move-for him- he opens his legs wider to allow him to slot between them. "Then by all means carry on pressing yourself against me," he says, making Kurt laugh. "I really quite enjoyed it."

Kurt moves close once more, mouth inches from Blaine's and his breath hot on his face. "I can tell," he whispers, and then they're kissing once again.

Blaine isn't entirely sure how he ends up lying on his back with Kurt on top of him, but all he does know is that when Kurt's lips leave his to trail down to his neck, and he then grinds his rock hard erection against him for good measure, he throws his head back and lets out a noise that he could never in his wildest dreams imagine making with anyone. Ever.

"Kuuurt," he moans, bucking up beneath him, desperate to feel the friction over his cock once more. "Oh my god, Kurt. Oh my god!"

"Hot," Kurt murmurs, head buried into the crook of Blaine's neck as he worries the flesh with his teeth. "So hot."

He keeps a steady rhythm of grinding and pushing, with Blaine desperately finding his lips again and gasping out between them. "Kurt...ahhh," but then his mouth is full of Kurt's tongue once more and to his utter shame, he feels his orgasm tearing through him like a freight train as Kurt clutches him tight and continues to rub against him until he breaks the kiss and Kurt pulls back to look at him, panting hard.

"Um..."

Blaine stares down at their torsos, pressed tightly together and flushes with embarrassment. "Kurt...I'm..."

"Are you okay? Happy?"

"Yes I'm happy," he says, laughing in disbelief.

"Good. That's all that matters," Kurt tells him, kissing his cheek before rolling away and standing. "I'm just gonna use the bathroom. Two minutes."

Blaine throws a despairing arm across his eyes the second the door is closed, groaning at the unpleasant stickiness in his underwear. "You jerk, Anderson," he says out loud, giving himself a stark reminder of middle school bullies. "You couldn't even make it last." He sits, rubbing a hand over his face as he tries to imagine what Kurt must be thinking right now. Wishing he didn't have to come out the bathroom and face him, probably, he thinks to himself. In fact, Kurt is probably in there right this second trying to work out how to politely ask him to leave. Deciding to save him the bother, Blaine slips his shoes on quietly, picks up his jacket and goes, closing the door softly behind him.