PART ELEVEN

He oscillates between disbelief that Kurt Hummel might actually like him and a warm glow, caused by the certain knowledge that Kurt Hummel likes him. When he's in the disbelief stage he feels a little sick, sure that when he walks down the hall today it's actually going to turn out to be a massive prank and everyone's going to point and laugh. When he's feeling all warm and a little light headed he has to fight down the urge to giggle. Or laugh hysterically. No one is laughing though as he walks toward his locker, and Mercedes and Lucy are standing there waiting for him, so everything is normal so far. Then it's not. The red and white uniform Kurt only wears while at school is in front of him, containing Kurt, who is licking his lips and looking amazing.

"Dave. Hi."

"Hey."

Oh fuck, he knows then that it's definitely not a prank, because Kurt's blushing and chewing his bottom lip and all he needs to do is toe the linoleum with his shoe and it's every image of a cliché. It's awesome. He can feel the heat in his own cheeks, knows he doesn't look anywhere near as cute as Kurt, but that no one watching them could mistake this for anything other than two guys… not talking to each other. Hell, he might as well wear that t-shirt Lucy made for him that says 'Likes Boys' on it and just get it over and done with it, but he doesn't give a damn.

"I'd think that you had both lost the ability to speak, but I know I just heard you say hello to each other. Why are you all acting weird now?" Mercedes asks, and he knows Lucy is just about to pipe up with her five cents.

"Could we talk, um, privately?"

He nods immediately and follows Kurt as he heads for an empty classroom, shooting a nervous look over his shoulder at Mercedes and Lucy, who both look like they're ready to torture information out of him. He'll pay for this later, god he hopes it's worth it. They don't say anything, and he knows it can't be anything longer than a minute, two tops, but it stretches out between them endlessly, becoming more and more awkward and he lets out a nervous laugh, because this shouldn't be that hard. He talks to Kurt all the time, Kurt talks to him; however now they're completely unable to say more than a couple of words to each other. There's no hope for either of them apparently.

"Wow. So this feels awkward," he states and cringes, instantly wanting to take it back, even if it's true. It's not Kurt's fault, or his own, it just… is.

"Uh, yeah. A little bit. Um."

"If you didn't want me to say anything you don't have to worry. I mean, I haven't told anyone about what happened yesterday. Except my mom, and well, I didn't really tell her exactly. She kind of heard you yelling at me. Um." Oh god. From being dumb-struck to verbal diarrhea in a matter of seconds. Brilliant.

"No. It's okay. I don't mind if you tell anyone. I mean. Unless you don't want to?"

"No! Yes! I mean… I want to?" Oh god, he doesn't even know what the question is, and he just feels so completely clueless. Why aren't there classes for this type of shit?

"Oh. I… good?"

The only saving grace seems to be Kurt seems to feel as awkward as he does, and anyone listening in to this conversation would have no clue what they were talking about, and he doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

"Good." He can't come up with anything better to say and they both seem completely transfixed with the same spot on the floor. He doesn't know if this is what Kurt wanted to talk to him about or not, or if they need to say anything more on the matter, or what the matter actually is. How do people get good at this?

"Good," Kurt repeats, and a quick glance reveals that he's smiling and chewing on his lip again. "So. Um. I was wondering if, maybe tomorrow, you'd like to stay for dinner. Um, after tutoring me."

"Uh, dinner? Like a…" A date? He adds internally, but the words don't make it past his lips, but he wonders if Kurt will hear them anyway, because he feels like a version of him shouted the words.

"A date. Yes."

"I… yeah. Yes. Sure. Great."

"Good. Um. Tomorrow then?"

"Yeah. Sure…" Fuck, what is he saying? What is he agreeing to?

Kurt gives him a shy smile as he leaves the room, waving his hand slightly and he absentmindedly raises his hand in a reciprocal farewell wave, his mind completely stuck on a few seconds ago when he was asked out on a date. The door to the classroom opens again, and he half expects it to be the start of a class coming in, except it's much worse. Mercedes and Lucy stand there, both of them with their arms crossed and faces clearly expressing the expect him to fill them in immediately. He doesn't know how to start, some residual awkwardness hanging about even with his best friends. Oh god. Blaine is going to freak out.

"You going to tell us what all that was about?"

"I have a date. Oh fuck. I have a date."

The reality hits him then like a cold icy wave and he slumps, putting his head between his knees and starting to take deep breaths. He can't believe he's actually going to do this.

"Okay okay, calm down. It's not the end of the world…"

"When is it? Do you know where you're going? What are you going to wear?"

He looks up, eyes wide and Mercedes pats him comfortingly on the shoulder.

"It's okay baby. We'll sort you out."

He isn't sure whether to be grateful or worried.

TLOT

He was saved by the bell, lucky enough to shush Lucy into silence with the sudden urgent need to get to class. Now though it's after school and Mercedes, Blaine, and Lucy are in the back of his car, discussing the different options they have when it comes to his wardrobe. He hasn't managed to get out anything more than 'dinner' and he's starting to suspect they weren't really listening to him. He's not going to have time to go and get changed, he's not picking Kurt up and taking him anywhere, he's just staying for dinner, probably eating with his family… his dad. Just his dad. Huh. That puts a whole new spin on it and the fear he'd felt earlier comes back intensified. He's meeting the parents. Fuck.

The rational part of his brain is telling him he's already met Kurt's dad, that he's a nice enough seeming bloke. But he wasn't on a date with his son last time he met him. What if Kurt has told him? What has Kurt told him? He just keeps creating questions in his head, and he's starting to give himself a headache when considering all the possible ways this could go wrong. He doesn't let his mind consider the ways it could go right, because that's an entirely different headache. His main question though is what will happen between the end of tutoring and dinner. There's at least a good hour to kill there, and Kurt hasn't mentioned anything else, and given their sudden complete lack of social skills when faced with each other it could be a very long and painfully quiet hour.

He pulls up outside his house and his friends pile out, traipsing up to the door and pushing it open, calling out to his mom that he has a date tomorrow night and not to expect him home for dinner. Of course this results in his mom excitedly coming to join them, and he tries to shrug off her effusive hug as she exclaims over how he's growing up. Lucy and Mercedes make sad comments about how neither of them have had a date yet, which is why they have to live vicariously through him. He's not buying it for a second, they like dressing him up and he's too much of a soft touch to say no.

Blaine is already hunting through his clothes, pulling out a pair of jeans he never wears, followed by a Captain America t-shirt he doesn't wear because it's a bit too tight across the chest for his liking. Then Blaine pulls out his favorite all-time shirt that he hardly ever wears because it's custom made. It looks like a plain white shirt, but on the inside of the French cuff is hand-drawn art by Lucy, depicting all the different Marvel superheroes. The same art is on the inside of the collar, so can be seen if he doesn't button it all the way up. Her and Mercedes made it for him for his last birthday, buying the shirt together, painstakingly taking it apart, doing the artwork before Mercedes had carefully sewn it back together. He loves it.

"Here. Try this on."

"Those are too small."

"No. They're really not. Everything else you wear is just two sizes too big. Humor us," Lucy demands, and he sighs, knowing he doesn't have a chance against the three of them plus his mom. He steps into the bathroom, taking the clothes with him, because even if no one in the room is going to perv on him he still doesn't want to change in front of them. He pulls the t-shirt over his head, and yep, still tight across the chest. He pulls the jeans up and does them up and they have the tight feeling of denims just out of the wash. Too tight but with wear they will become much more comfortable. The jeans and t-shirt are both dark-blue, and he snorts as he realizes Blaine has chosen them because the color of the ink Lucy used on his shirt is almost the exact same shade. He'd roll the sleeves up, but doesn't want to hide the tiny bit of art he can see through the white material. Opening the bathroom door he steps back across the hall and into his own room, rolling his eyes as his friends fill his mom in on their school day.

"Mmm. Wow."

"You do scrub up well…"

Blaine simply looks please and his mom actually looks a little surprised, and he's not sure how to take that exactly. Lucy and Mercedes are walking around him like sharks and he jumps when one of them lands a sharp pat to his butt.

"Hey!"

They both laugh and murmur something about not usually seeing the merchandise and he huffs, although maybe he doesn't look too bad. He knows if he looked really bad they would definitely tell him, and it is his first date, except…

"I'm having dinner at his house. Don't you think this is a little formal for just dinner?"

They all look at him and start shaking their heads, and he's not sure if it's out of resignation about how stupid he's being, or that they really don't think what he's wearing is too formal.

"Dave, you're wearing jeans. And a t-shirt. That isn't formal," Blaine states, and he turns the cuffs inward, exposing most of the art work and folding it back into his sleeve, threading his one and only pair of cufflinks (Star Trek badges) through the holes.

"Oh yes… you definitely have to wear that tomorrow. He won't know what hit him."

He runs a hand through his hair, nerves fluttering unpleasantly and fuck, he hopes Hummel is worth the hassle of all of this, although he's pretty sure he is.