The first thing Kurt thinks when he cracks his eyes reluctantly open is that, judging by the taste in his mouth and the way the whole room is spinning and the red-hot nail being relentlessly drilled into his head, he must've had an amazing twenty-first birthday. Nestling further into his cocoon of blankets, he lets out a guttural groan and presses his face further into the pillow when the door opens and Carole cheerfully says, "Good morning, you three. Can you stomach breakfast or should I just start the coffee?"

"Coffee would be perfection," comes Rachel's faint voice from somewhere on the floor, and Kurt can hear Carole laughing beyond the closed door, hear her footsteps descending the stairs, and slowly sits up, feeling like any sudden movement would be a grave mistake in his current fragile state.

The air mattresses have deflated during the night, so both women have only a layer of useless plastic between them and the carpet. Kurt is still wearing his boots from last night, which probably accounts for his aching feet, and merely touching his hair tells him it's definitely a case of awful bedhead still crackling with hairspray. Rachel and Santana aren't in any better shape - Santana's spike-heeled shoes are sticking out from beneath her blanket, Rachel's pillow is streaked with make-up and both of them look as pale and sickly as Kurt feels.

"My boobs smell like tequila," Santana whines as she eases herself into a sitting position and unsnaps her bra, pulling it out of the top of her dress. "Why didn't we have the sense to change before we collapsed?"

"Because we drank so much I'm fairly sure I thought a bush outside Scandals was a person," Rachel groans, attempting to run a hand through her hopelessly tangled hair. "I feel awful. I'm not sure how much of last night I remember and how much was weird rum-induced dreams."

Sliding slowly out of bed and onto the floor, still clutching a blanket around his shoulders like a cape, Kurt unbuckles Santana's shoes for her and tosses them into the corner of the room, giving the same treatment to his boots and rubbing his feet. "I remember you hitting on someone," Santana says to him, with a faint smirk. "I think he gave us a ride." Groping for her bag, she triumphantly produces a twenty dollar bill and says, "See, he gave me this to go get my car today."

"So much for you promising to be the designated driver," Rachel says, trying to pull a comb through her hair and glaring when it sticks on a tangle. "That guy was really old, like old enough to be our dad. You're not gonna call him, right, Kurt?"

With a small shrug, Kurt says, "I have to, at least to say thank you for bringing us home last night. I remember very little, but I doubt we were fun to drive aimlessly around Lima until one of us was coherent enough to give him my address." Privately, he thinks about what he remembers - bright eyes, sweet smile, strong hands - and wonders if it would be such a bad thing to go on a date. After all, he hasn't been on a proper date in more than a year.

They take turns in the shower, in the steam and the soap that helps them feel a little more human, and go downstairs to vast, steaming mugs of black coffee and Carole's gentle sympathy, though Kurt notices her bite back laughter when Rachel closes the blinds against the weak winter sunlight with a cat-like hiss. Rachel and Santana eventually leave around lunchtime, shouldering their overnight bags and promising they'll meet at Breadstix for old time's sake before they fly back to New York.

After packing away the inflatable mattresses until the next time someone is staying over, Kurt is sprawled across his bed with a book open beneath his chin as he stares at his phone and the new contact from last night. As the memories trickle back without the early morning haze of initial agony from the hangover, he finds himself blushing at the way he acted. Surely he has to call, if only to say thank you and apologise for being so obnoxiously flirtatious. Remembering noisily singing on the way home with his friends, he thinks about all the lyrics he directed towards Walter and feels his cheeks get even hotter.

But he has to the one in control. He has to make this move, not sit and wait around. He has to know what kind of man Walter is, if he can be trusted, or if he's just going to take him out once, try to seduce him, throw a tantrum when Kurt inevitably freezes up and can't do it, walk out huffily and forget they ever had anything. His thumb lands on the call button before he can second-guess himself, and it's barely rung when he hears the somehow comforting voice. "Walter Anderson speaking."

"Hi Walter, it's Kurt. From Scandals."

"Ah, hello. I've been hoping you'd call." Twining a tassel from one of the scarves looped around his headboard between his fingers, Kurt blushes and can't help smiling at the words. "How are you feeling today?"

"Terrible this morning, better after a coffee and a shower," Kurt answers softly, and hears the quiet noise of a laugh. Merely the sound of Walter's voice is relaxing, comforting, but it's making his heart race and the colour seep into his cheeks. "You made quite the impression last night," he says before his nerve fails him and the words slink back into his imagination.

Laughing, Walter says, "I would say the same to you. I've never had Elephant Love Medley sung to me with such drunken passion." Kurt blushes again, letting his head thunk forward onto the open book, and Walter adds, "You were just so sweet, Kurt. Did the adventures continue inside the house?"

"I think my parents are just too polite to say we were seriously noisy coming in," Kurt says, abandoning the pretence of reading and sweeping the book onto the floor to lie down properly. "Did I really sing Moulin Rouge to someone I'd just met? I'm so sorry, I'm out of control when I've had too much to drink, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"The opposite, Kurt, I thought it was adorable," Walter says, and Kurt's heart skips a beat. "On that note, I'd love to see you again. If you think that this age difference is too dramatic and you don't want to see me again, that's fine. But, if you do, Breadstix on Wednesday?" Kurt grins into the phone when Walter adds, "I've been partaking of their fine cuisine since the grand opening."

"I'm working at the Lima Bean until eight," Kurt says regretfully. Of course this opportunity is going to just slip through his fingers.

"No problem, I'm in meetings all day on Wednesday so I could use the extra time to relax and get myself into the right mindset for a date," Walter says, and Kurt can feel his spirits lift. "I could book a table for half past eight and pick you up after work?"

"Sounds perfect," Kurt says, a little breathier than he intended, and hangs up with a dreamy smile on his face, lying back on his bed and staring up at the pictures. A younger version of himself smiles back, and he murmurs, "Just wait, kid. You're going to meet someone amazing."


It's amazing how quickly Blaine slips back into his New York way of life. Waking up early, taking a shower, gelling, making breakfast for the three of them, packing his bag and double-checking he's finished all his assignments, kicking Artie and Tina out of bed if they aren't awake yet and inevitably only just making it onto the correct train. His life becomes a rhythm of classes and homework and subway rides, and the city swallows him up again.

This routine is now broken by the potluck dinners once a week. Elliott is the first to host, and Blaine can't help the apprehension as Tina chatters on and on during the subway ride. He's only known this group of people a few months, and things might still be stilted and awkward. Especially with Kurt - they're still not yet on speaking terms, and with their lives now revolving around school once more, it's become so much easier to avoid him entirely.

Luckily, it's Santana and Brittany who are arriving at the same time as them - five minutes late, which is seriously irritating for Blaine and one of Tina's worst habits - and wave frantically. "We took our own cab," Santana says, and winks while Brittany giggles and laces their fingers together in an easily intimate gesture. "Come on up then, newbies. Rachel's excited for everyone to try her new vegan bolognese recipe."

"She set off the smoke detector twice making it," Brittany says, rolling her eyes, and Artie laughs as they all walk into the building together, making inane small talk while they wait for the elevator.

Elliott's apartment looks like something straight out of a photograph on Pinterest, and he's grinning as they set their food offerings down on a counter and go straight to exploring. "Judge me all you want," he says. "My mother was very overenthusiastic when it came to furnishing my place in the big city. Doesn't stop me from having to borrow chairs from neighbours whenever people come over."

"Pretty sure this entire building knows you as 'chair guy'," Dani says from her perch in the armchair, legs slung over one arm, texting Madison with one hand and drinking wine with the other. "Oh my God, you guys brought cupcakes, I love you!"

Elliott cooks with all the multi-tasking genius of a professional chef, and soon they're sitting down to dinner all together. Blaine has never felt more sidelined than when the four couples slide immediately together, leaving those currently in long-distance relationships to fill in the gaps. Because some deity in charge of seating arrangements hates him, he ends up with Kurt on one side and Rachel on the other. The table is too small for so many people, so elbows are brushing and Blaine is almost squashed against Kurt's side, hyper-aware of everywhere their bodies are touching.

"To ask the obvious question," Elliott says, ducking to let Dani pass the salad bowl to Mason, "how was everyone's first week of school? For those of us still imprisoned." He grins to himself, and Rachel rolls her eyes dramatically.

"You know, I thought I'd struggle to get back into the swing of things after a whole summer off, but it was surprisingly easy," Jane says. "And I, of course, already have a ton of homework, but I'll make my way through it slowly. With the help of foot rubs and ice-cold drinks from my loving boyfriend, of course." She laughs as Mason rolls his eyes, then grins and kisses her cheek. It makes Blaine ache, seeing the intimacy and wishing he had that.

"I'm starting a long-distance relationships support group," Dani says sourly, giving Mason and Jane a sideway glare. "We can meet up once a week, eat pizza and call our significant others without being judged by our friends who are lucky enough to be in the same state as their loves." Elliott nods enthusiastically and Dani smiles at him across the table.

After they've finished dinner, sitting around the living room, Santana brandishes two six-packs of beer and says, "Time for drinking games - Blaine, you can just have a can of Coke. I respect your decision not to drink. How does Never Have I Ever sound?" Brittany whoops enthusiastically, and gets up to find shot glasses in Elliott's cupboards, putting one in front of each guest. "Okay, the rules are that we each fill our shot glass with beer, and whenever you've done something you have to take the shot. First person to finish their beer is the loser and has to do a dare." Filling her glass with a flourish, she says, "Never have I ever been to the UK," and watches Mason, Elliott, Blaine and Rachel all drink.

Brittany contributes, "Never have I ever been in love with a blonde," and has Santana, Elliott and Jesse all drinking.

Rachel says, "Never have I ever been in love with a woman," and watches Artie, Dani, Santana, Brittany and Jesse drink.

Grinning, Kurt says, "Never have I ever slept with a woman," and raises his glass as Mason, Elliott, Brittany, Santana, Jesse and Artie all drink.

Jesse shoots back, "Never have I ever slept with a man," and watches Blaine, Kurt, Elliott, Mason, Jane, Tina, Rachel, Brittany and Santana all drink.

As everyone looks at him pointedly, Blaine raises his glass and bitterly says, "Never have I ever been in love," heart twisting as everyone but him drinks immediately.

Eyes sad, Rachel reaches over and squeezes his knee and promises, "It'll happen. You're too good of a person to not have it happen to you."

Tina tests the waters with, "Never have I ever had sex in public," and laughs as Santana and Brittany links hands and drink together, followed by a blushing Rachel and a grinning Elliott. "Well, those are stories I have to hear."

"Later," Jane promises, and Tina grins happily. "Never have I ever had sex in a car." Going an even deeper shade of red, Rachel drinks, followed by Jesse, Brittany, Santana, Kurt and Dani. "Elliott, really? Never?"

"From what I've heard, I believe car sex is strongly overrated," Elliott says, ignoring the look on Santana's face. "Never have I ever kissed more than one person in this room." He winks at Kurt, laughing when Kurt immediately has to take his shot, followed shortly by everyone but Blaine, Tina and Artie. "Never joining in with spin the bottle has its benefits."

"You're just a spoilsport," Dani says with a giggle. "Um...never have I ever hooked up with someone at a wedding, bachelor or bachelorette party or engagement party. Hooked up is defined as sleeping with someone who you weren't in a relationship with at the time."

"You don't play fair!" Mason whines as he drinks, followed by Kurt, Rachel, Santana and Elliott. Blaine feels Kurt's eyes on him, heavy, as he takes his shot. "Never have I ever been heartbroken."

"Lucky," Santana says shortly before taking her shot. Blaine follows her, waving the questions off with a shake of his head, then Kurt, Rachel, Jesse, Brittany and Dani drink too.

"Never have I ever sung lead on any song at a show choir competition," Artie says, pulling the discussion away from such dangerous territories. Blaine drinks, then Rachel, Santana, Jesse, Mason and Brittany.

"Never have I ever gotten into NYADA," Elliott offers lightly, and Rachel, Mason and Kurt all drink. As he goes to refill his glass, Kurt stares down at his can and tosses it away, and Santana crows triumphantly, draining the rest of her beer in victory.

"Okay, Kurt, your dare!" she says happily, and he rolls his eyes as everyone stares at him eagerly. "It's got to be a really good one since this is the first time you've ever lost a game of this. Any ideas?"

"I know, I know!" Brittany squeals, clutching at her wife's hand, and points at Kurt accusingly. "I dare you to kiss the person in this room you find the most attractive."

"No." Kurt's reply is short, sharp, angry, and Brittany stares at him with round, shocked eyes. "I'm not doing it. I'm engaged, I'm getting married, and I'm not going to kiss anyone but Walter."

"It's just a bit of fun, Kurt!" Santana protests, and grabs Mason's shoulder without warning to give him a short kiss. "See, I'm married, and it's still fine for me to kiss my friends when we're all just having a bit of fun together."

"I'm not doing it," Kurt snaps. "I don't care about your stupid game." Standing up, almost sending Rachel flying where she was leaning on his shoulder, he storms away and the sound of the front door slamming echoes in the shocked silence.

"Well, something's wrong with him," Dani says lightly, trying to diffuse the tension. "Although, if we're going into questions and discussions and stories for the night, if you could marry anyone in this room other than your own significant other, who would it be?"

"Kurt," Santana, Rachel and Brittany all reply at the same time, and all grin around at each other. "You know Kurt and I are destined to be together though, ladies, so you don't stand a chance," Santana adds, cracking her knuckles and grinning at the affronted looks Rachel and Brittany shoot her.

"I think I'd marry Jane," Dani says thoughtfully, and gets a pleased look for her troubles. Jane gets jokingly booed when she says she'd marry Mason anyway, and an adoring look from the man himself, who immediately chooses Blaine, to his delighted surprise.

"I think Tina seems like a wonderful girl," Elliott says, and winks at a grinning Tina. She chooses Blaine, obviously, and Artie surprises everyone by choosing Rachel. Jesse picks Santana and she blows him a teasing kiss, shimmying her shoulders in his direction.

"I think Kurt would pick me," Rachel says, draining her beer and making a face, reaching for her own bottle of wine. "We're so alike, we'd be so good as a married couple."

"You'd be too alike though," Santana argues, and Blaine grins into his drink at the fact that a married lesbian is actually arguing her case for marrying her gay best friend. "Kurt needs someone like me, someone who isn't totally similar but can still understand him on a deeper level. I'd put a little fire in his ice caps."

"That is the dirtiest thing about weather I've ever heard," Mason remarks, and Santana grins and clinks her glass against hers. "So do we get to hear the public sex stories now?"

"I know Rachel's!" Brittany crows triumphantly, and Rachel buries her face in her hands with a groan. "It's my favourite story! So, when she first moved here, Rachel was dating this senior at NYADA who turned out to be a prostitute," Rachel lets out a nameless sound of distress, and Tina chokes on her sip of beer, "and he was really hot aside from the part where he lied to her for months, and he was the NYADA dance professor's TA and he quite often taught classes without his shirt on, and one time he had Rachel up to demonstrate a tango with him and they ended up getting overheard having sex in a closet." Over the outburst of laughter, she adds, "And Rachel had a bruise on her butt from a broom handle for a week!" and prompts more laughter.

"Mine is a generally boring in the bathroom of a club one," Elliott says with a shrug, and then adds, "Santana and Brittany once had sex in the showers of their high school locker room."

"I heard that one after I transferred!" Jane exclaims gleefully. "You two were the cheerleaders who got caught by Coach Sylvester and only just escaped getting kicked off the team?" Santana nods proudly, preening a little, and they all laugh.

"Who did you hook up with at some sort of occasion related to a wedding, Mason?" Tina asks, refilling her glass with lemonade and haphazardly splashing in vodka.

"When our high school teachers got married, while Santana was hooking up with Quinn I was with Kurt," Mason says easily, and this time Artie chokes on his drink, prompting Rachel to pound him on the back with surprising strength. "Jane and I weren't together yet, and I'd been dancing with him most of the night because he was so fragile and eventually we went upstairs together."

"And on the note of talking about him, I better go and talk to him," Santana says, standing up and brushing herself down. "Don't get too carried away telling stories without me. I want to contribute."

Against his better judgement, Blaine volunteers to go and buy more soda as Dani drains the last of it and finds himself drawn to where he can hear familiar voices drifting up from the end of the corridor. "Britt didn't mean it like that," Santana says, and Blaine inches closer, desperate to hear why Kurt reacted so violently. "She doesn't know. I've kept my promise, I haven't told anyone."

"I know she didn't mean it," Kurt says softly, and his voice sounds thick, as if he's been crying. "It just...hit a little too close to home at the moment."

"Have you talked to him?" Silence greets Santana's question, and she sounds like a mother about to start scolding as she says, "Kurt..."

"I know," he says sharply. "It's just difficult. It's a precarious situation, you know that, I can't afford to lose anyone. I don't want to." A sniff that wrenches in Blaine's heart, and he says, "I'm just so muddled, San. I don't know what to do."

"You'll figure it out," Santana says soothingly. "You always do." A pause, a breath, and she adds, "We got to talking in there, and if you had to choose someone to marry from me, Rachel and Brittany, you'd pick me, right?"

"Obviously," Kurt says, and Santana laughs. Smiling briefly, Blaine turns away from the voices and heads down the stairs, hoping the night air will help to clear his head a little. Of course Kurt wouldn't have kissed him - that's just something silly, a daydream to help him feel a little less lonely knowing that he's the only one in a group of twelve who has never been in love. If he wasn't so wonderfully faithful and loving, Kurt would probably kiss Elliott, or Mason, or even Santana. The times Kurt kissed him were just stupid experiments, calculated to reassure Kurt that Walter is the only one for him and to break Blaine's heart for good measure. To make him remember that crushes are stupid and only lead to getting hurt.

His heart starts to pound again at the thought of Kurt's kisses, and he tries to shake it off. Casting his mind back, he thinks about his first kiss with Dave, and tries to make that the only thing he's thinking of as he walks to the nearest store. But it doesn't work - of course it doesn't, not when he has the image of Kurt's tear-filled eyes meeting his in a dimly-lit car. He remembers everything - the hair that fell out of place, curling over Kurt's pale forehead. The scent of alcohol on his breath and his cologne, faded after so many hours but still familiar. His lips, so soft and smooth, pressed so exquisitely against Blaine's. He can remember the way Kurt moaned into his mouth, the way Kurt's hips moved against his, and the thought is accompanied by equal parts guilt and dizzying excitement - excitement that absolutely did not follow his first kiss with Dave.


As Walter turns onto his street and the car smoothly decelerates, Kurt is overcome by a sudden wave of sadness. The evening has been so perfect - even following his frantic texts fired off to every fashion-conscious person he knows looking for advice on what to wear, changing sixteen times before he could settle on anything, getting strange looks when he walked into work looking like he was dressed for something far more exciting - that he can't stand the thought that it has to end. Walter is better than he ever could have imagined - sweet, earnest, honest, considerate and so handsome. Just the thought of the way his eyes have focused so completely on Kurt all evening makes him feel warm, feel like this was the best idea he's had in ages.

"Here you are," Walter says, breaking Kurt out of his thoughts, and he tries to hide his disappointed sigh as he looks up to his house, the lights in the kitchen still blazing. "Let me walk you up." Before Kurt can open his mouth to protest, Walter is opening his door and offering a hand, gentlemanly and smiling gently, and Kurt laces their fingers together. It feels good - right - and he dares to lean into Walter slightly, hoping an arm will slide around his waist. A brush of tentative fingers against his hip is as far as it gets, and the disappointment is leaden in his stomach as they reach the door.

"I had a really good time," he says, keeping Walter's hands in his, making sure he stays a little longer. "I'd love to see you again. Is...would you like to see me again?" The question is on the tip of his tongue, the important one that would make this more than just two people eating dinner together, but that is perhaps inappropriate for a first date. "Would you want us to be boyfriends?" And then he blushes, because he sounds about fourteen, for God's sake, this isn't high school.

"Nothing would make me happier," Walter says, and gently cups Kurt's flushed cheek, smiling at him so sweetly in the glow of the porch light. "You really are a miracle, Kurt Hummel. I've never enjoyed a date as much as I enjoyed tonight." Kurt can only nod, blushing even deeper and ducking his head to hide an incredulous, thrilled smile, and Walter kisses his cheek and squeezes his hand before moving away. "Goodnight."

But as soon as Kurt sets a hand on the door and turns to watch Walter disappear into the night, a tiny voice within him whispers Give him more than that. He needs more than that. He'll leave if you don't. Tears spring to his eyes, nervous and angry with himself, angry that he's too fucked up for this to have been a perfect night, and he turns into the door. "Kurt?" Walter is there now, at the bottom of the steps up to the door, holding out his hands like he's surrendering. "I haven't been on a first date in almost twenty years - may I kiss you?" Looking down, Kurt sees the nervousness in his eyes, the way he's standing - the Do you want to kiss me at all? unspoken but obvious - and he can feel that self-loathing slip a little. This is different - Walter is different.

Descending the three short steps, he kisses Walter with as much forcefulness as he can, trying to send the message that he's willing to do this, he wants to, this kiss is the start of something incredibly hot. But Walter stops him, looking at him, and says, "Slow down. You're the first man I've ever wanted to worship quite so much. Let's not have it be over in a night." As Kurt blinks up at him, he adds, "Call me old-fashioned, but I don't want you to give me everything so soon." That has tears springing to Kurt's eyes, grateful and joyful, and he lets them slip closed to hide it as Walter leans in again.

The kiss is infinitely gentle, no more contact than their lips and Walter's fingers curved over Kurt's cheek, and Kurt feels like he's floating on it, on the tenderness and the delicacy and the way Walter is holding him so sweetly. It almost makes him want to cry, and his pulse is speeding up when they break apart, Walter smiling at him. "You choose where we go next," he says, and Kurt can only nod, too overwhelmed to speak. "Call me when you decide." He kisses Kurt's forehead, making him suck in a sharp gasp - he's always thought that was such a romantic gesture, so sweet and knowing and gentle - and smiles before he walks away, and the car soon disappears into the night.

Walking dazedly into the house, Kurt finds his father reading in the kitchen and says, "I told you not to wait up."

"Carole got asked to stay on later at work, I wanted to wait for her to come back," Burt explains casually, and closes his book over. "I've had a great time cooking my own chicken salad and watching TV without my son or my wife complaining. And what about you, kiddo? Good night?" Glancing at Kurt, he adds, "You look like you might be about to fly from sheer happiness."

"It was perfect," Kurt says dreamily, not noticing his father swallowing a laugh. "He's amazing."

"Do you feel like a prince?" Burt asks, face all concern, and Kurt smiles at the memory of being told a good man should always have him feeling royal at the end of a date, his father holding out pamphlets and worrying about him. Of course, at the time, the worry was founded, no matter how much Kurt tried to deny it.

"Like a king," he says, and drifts upstairs to bury himself in blankets and reliving that kiss over and over and over again.


I've decided to create a new format with chapters, wherein I will include one or more flashbacks to key moments of Kurt and Walter's relationship around the story moving forward. These will be differentiated from the main plot by italics and line breaks. I hope seeing more of Kurt's side of things will help to answer some of the questions you lovely people have been commenting :) Thank you so much for all your feedback - it really does encourage me to keep pushing through temporary blocks and your comments make my day :)