Ten
"Mist"

Kurt paced the floor and chewed on his nails, two bad habits he'd never normally indulge in, but his dad and Blaine had been gone for hours. All he could think about was slick pavement and the dangerous curves on Wallen Road and the lack of proper guard rails. Carole tried to get him to calm down with a cup of tea she'd warmed up on the hot plate, but Kurt's stomach twisted too tightly. Finn had retreated to his bedroom, saying Kurt's nervousness freaked him out.

When he heard the rumbling of the truck engine in the driveway well after six o'clock, Kurt practically flew through the house and met the vehicle as his dad pulled into the garage. He launched himself at Blaine and threw his arms around his boyfriend's neck.

"You were gone forever! I was so worried about you."

Kurt pulled back and ran his hands over Blaine's heater-warmed face, noting the tenderness in his hazel eyes and his damp curls. He leaned down suddenly and pressed his lips against Blaine's in a searing kiss.

"I'm fine too," Burt commented casually, as he went into the house.

Blaine struggled against Kurt, and for a minute he thought it was because of his dad's presence, but when their lips parted briefly, Blaine sucked in a shuddering breath and laughed.

"Wouldn't you feel silly if I'd survived venturing out into a dangerous flood zone only to asphyxiate from your kisses?"

Kurt laughed along with his boyfriend and wrapped Blaine in another fierce embrace. He became aware of Blaine's soaked clothes – or actually, his soaked clothes that Blaine had borrowed. It was a testament to how much he cared about Blaine that he was more concerned for his boyfriend's health than his designer clothes.

"Come on. We need to get you warm and into dry clothes."

Kurt hauled him through the house, upstairs, and into his bedroom. He made to select clothes from his closet, but Blaine stopped him.

"I think I can manage on my own this time. Just tell me if there's anything you'd rather I not borrow."

Kurt wanted to protest, because he loved dressing Blaine, who so rarely changed out of his Dalton uniform. Honestly, separating him from the blazer almost took an act of God. His lips quirked a little because a flood was an Act of God.

"I don't think you'll go for any of the clothes I haven't worn yet, so have your pick."

He kissed his boyfriend lightly again and trotted out of his room pulling the door closed behind him. His dad had already changed and claimed his usual spot in the recliner when Kurt got downstairs. He was summarizing how Mr. Jensen had his medicine now and saying something about Blaine retiling the master bathroom.

"Dad, you can't seriously expect him to do that."

"Why not? It needs to be done, and he knows how." Burt rushed to justify himself when Kurt flashed him a dangerous glare. "Look, Kurt. How many times have you seen my buddies over here fixing something while I work on their cars? It's the same as what you do when you help the girls pick out dresses or whatever."

"But – "

"Kurt, you're really sending me mixed message here. Do you want me to pretend Blaine is a stereotype? He likes musicals all that stuff you do, but he also likes football and video games and – I'm sorry if this offends you, Kurt – guy stuff."

Kurt's cheeks heated up with fury. "Did it ever occur to you that he tries to emphasize his masculine interests because that's what he has to do at home? You've never seen him at a sing-along or talking about Vogue. Yes, he likes things that break the stereotype, but he's not that butch."

Burt sighed heavily and removed his baseball cap to run his hand over his head. "Honestly, no, that didn't occur to me. All right. I'll tell him we won't retile."

Kurt growled in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, no. You can't do that. He'll take it personally and think he did something wrong to make you change your mind. Just …. Talk about Riverdance or something while you're working."

Kurt turned his eyes to the ceiling, becoming concerned at how long Blaine had been changing. He headed for the stairs to check on his boyfriend.

"I'll make sure to compliment his shoes too," Burt called out.

Kurt ignored his dad's comment because he could take the gentle teasing from his family who he knew loved him unconditionally. He did appreciate his dad's effort to bond with Blaine, but the machismo method Blaine had suggested worried him. Football was one thing, because Kurt knew he truly enjoyed it, but who passionately loved installing home flooring?

He knocked on the bedroom door and waited for Blaine to give him permission to enter. When he opened the door, his jaw dropped.

Eight or ten votive candles flickered around the darkening room. Two flutes of clear, bubbly liquid and a box of chocolates sat on the hutch at the end of the bed. Blaine stood by the bed dressed in black slacks and a green shirt that brought out the flecks of gold in his eyes. He out a single rose to Kurt.

"W-What is all this?"

"Date night," Blaine answered simply.

Kurt felt his knees go weak. All thought of scolding Blaine for volunteering to retile the bathroom flew out of his mind. It could wait for another time when he hadn't gone to such trouble to create a romantic ambiance. He accepted the rose and lifted it to his nose. Blaine kissed the back of his free hand, and Kurt's cheeks flamed.

"Such a sap," he muttered, though clearly so, so pleased about it.

Blaine beamed at him and led him over to the bed. Kurt sat primly on the edge, but Blaine had other ideas.

"Lay down."

"And there goes the romance," Kurt quipped.

Blaine rolled his eyes and led by example, stretching out on his stomch so his head was at the foot of the bed. Kurt joined him a moment later and laid the rose on the hutch. He tipped back one of the flutes and took a drink of what turned out to be warm ginger ale. He fought off the grimace because Blaine had really tried here, and the circumstances were not ideal.

"Chocolate?"

Kurt's eyes followed the dark chocolate moving towards his mouth and parted his lips. He allowed Blaine to place the square halfway into mouth before he bit down, his lips brushing against Blaine's fingers. Their eyes connected, and the air tightened around them so that Kurt had trouble breathing properly. He saw Blaine's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly, and his eyes flicked down to the supple skin of Blaine's neck. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Blaine made a strangled whimper in the back of his throat.

It all felt so erotic. Kurt's cheeks heated up, and he tore his gaze away to focus on the pattern of the comforter. He was so, so grateful he was lying on his stomach. He felt ridiculous too, because what the hell was wrong with him getting turned on by a piece of chocolate?

Beside him, Blaine stretched his arm out towards the hutch to pick up a book Kurt hadn't noticed there before. He hardly noticed it now, being so captivated by the way the muscles in Blaine's arms stretched and pulled beneath the slightly too tight shirt. And, oh, that was so not helping his problem.

"What's that?" Kurt asked.

His voice had gone very high, like it always did when he felt nervous. He cursed his vocal chords. He was a singer; wasn't he meant to have more control over his voice than this? Judging from Blaine's tense look he noticed, but didn't say anything about it, for which Kurt felt eternally grateful.

"We were going to go to the poetry slam tonight, so I thought …."

He waved around a book from Kurt's bookshelf, Shakespeare's Sonnets, that he'd bought on a whim because he thought everyone should own a copy of Shakespeare's works. Blaine opened the book and began to read.

"When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings."

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. This sonnet? This sonnet? He didn't know if he should be smitten or excited, but he was both, because his sexy, sweet boyfriend was reading a sonnet about the ability of gay love to make an insecure man happy again.

He had never felt quite like this around Blaine before. It intrigued him and frightened him at the same time. He wanted to run away to the safety of board games around the kitchen table, and he wanted to drape himself over his boyfriend and kiss him into oblivion. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Sonnet 29 is my favorite," Blaine said quietly, stroking the page with his fingertips.

Fingertips had never seemed less innocent to Kurt. God, what was wrong with him? He couldn't let himself go there, not right now with his family in the house and the open door policy strictly enforced and Blaine still skittish about physical intimacy around other people.

"What's your favorite?"

"The Flea."

Blaine's brow furrowed, recalling their past literature lessons on John Dunne. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked at Kurt curiously.

"The one where the poet tries to seduce his lover by …" He trailed off, his eyes locking onto Kurt's lips. "Kurt."

They shuffled towards each other, ruffling up the comforter a bit, and the book of sonnets lay forgotten as their lips connected. Kurt felt like the biggest jerk in the world for doing this, because he knew he shouldn't, but his lust-addled brain just wouldn't do the logical thing. He'd never had this problem before, of … of … of little Kurt controlling him. He didn't like it, and yet he really, really did.

Somehow, between sucking Blaine's tongue into his mouth and nibbling on Blaine's bottom lip, Kurt had been maneuvered onto his back. And what the hell, because he remembered very clearly wanting to keep his hips pressed into the mattress. But here he was, with Blaine almost on top of him, and yet thankfully their lower bodies angled away from each other, getting his first hickey.

"So not what I'd planned," he murmured nonsensically.

Blaine paused, removing his lips from Kurt's probably very bruised skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No." The lack of hesitation in Kurt's voice jostled some part of his rational brain back to life. "I mean, no." He shook his head vigorously. "Yes. Yes, I mean, yes. Stop. Yeah."

His eyes found a very thoroughly amused Blaine peering down at him. Kurt started, because what had he done to Blaine's hair? The rain had washed out the gel, and the soft curls had felt so nice against his fingers. But, dear God, it looked like he'd attacked Blaine.

"Okay. No more hickeys today, but I made sure it's low enough a scarf can hide it."

Kurt's resolve melted. Even in the heat of the moment, Blaine was so thoughtful. He welcomed his boyfriend's kiss-bruised lips between his own. Except, damn it, that wasn't what Kurt had meant. He mumbled "Stop" into Blaine's mouth, but it came out muffled.

"What?" Blaine asked, pulling away.

"Stop."

"Oh. Is something wrong? I thought those were good sounds."

Kurt felt his face heat up. He hadn't even registered that he'd been encouraging Blaine with his little moans and hums.

"Yeah. Yeah, they were. Good. Definitely good."

Blaine was looking very proud of himself again, and it flustered Kurt just enough that he came back to himself fully. He shifted around until he lay on his stomach again. Unfortunately, Blaine didn't budge and was in the perfect position to attack the back of Kurt's neck with kisses.

"Blaine, stop. We have to talk."

That brought the kisses to a halt as well as ruined the romantic mood. Kurt hated himself for it a little bit, but it needed to be done. He didn't understand what was happening to him, letting his body get the better of his mind like this, but he really, really didn't understand why Blaine was doing this.

"So I did do something wrong."

"No. I'm just … confused."

Blaine's lips twitched. "It's a completely natural reaction – "

Kurt picked up the book of sonnets and smacked Blaine's upper arm. His cheeks flushed deep crimson out of both embarrassment and irritation. He'd hoped Blaine hadn't noticed, or if he did wouldn't bring it up, but his boyfriend did have a penchant for saying just what he shouldn't.

"That is not what I'm talking about! I mean, all of this. The chocolates, the candles, the poetry, the hickey. I'm not complaining. As you so inappropriately pointed out, I'm enjoying it. But aren't you worried my dad is going to walk in?"

Blaine frowned a little bit. "Yeah, a little. I'd be more worried not having a date, though."

"What? Why?"

"Because he told me to."

Kurt blinked. "My dad told you to give me a hickey?"

"Obviously not. But he said we should keep our date nights no matter what because they're important for a relationship."

A deep furrow creased Kurt's brow, and any trace of residual lust vanished with that statement. This, all of this, was because of his dad. If that didn't kill the mood, nothing would. He fought off the initial flash of hurt, though it shone through in his eyes apparently, because Blaine's face crumpled realizing he actually had done something wrong.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to … "

Make everyone happy and be who you think other people want you to be, Kurt finished in his head. He pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed. He didn't know if they had moved one step forward or backwards here. Clearly, Blaine and his dad had talked about their relationship, and Blaine had concluded that Burt didn't have a problem with his son dating. But then he'd jumped at the chance to do exactly as Burt said, not because he wanted to, but because he felt he had to to be accepted, which, Kurt knew, was the exactly opposite of what his dad would have meant to happen.

"Blaine, it's okay."

"No, it's not." Blaine flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. The candlelight reflected in his shining eyes. "I thought things were better now."

Kurt shifted his legs again so that he could lay next to his boyfriend and cuddle into his side. He put his head on Blaine's chest and hummed contently when Blaine's arms wrapped around him.

"We can't will ourselves to become new people in the blink of an eye. Six weeks ago, if you'd told me I'd be making out with my boyfriend with a … well, you know – " Kurt's cheeks heated up again. " – I'd've laughed and called you crazier than Wes after Cameron BeDazzled his gavel."

"How did you get here?"

"I've trusted you with everything, Blaine, from the first day I met you. I know this isn't any different. You promised me I could set the pace, and we'd go as slow as I needed us to. I'm terrified of all this, but I know you'll keep your promise. I know I'll be okay because I'm with you."

Blaine eyes lit up. "You trust me that much, Kurt?"

"I do."

"I trust you that much too."

Kurt felt Blaine relax beneath him, and they fell into rhythmic breathing. Even their heartbeats synched up after awhile, and they lay intertwined listening to the gentle tapping of rainfall overhead as they drifted off to the sleep.