This week had been odd. And filled with coffee dates, for some reason. Well, not filled. He had two, and neither of which were with Blaine. Dave didn't even like coffee, so he didn't really get why these people were insisting on meeting at the Lima Bean, but regardless, it happened.

The first meeting wasn't all that unusual at first. Santana asked him out for a drink and a chat, and while they didn't get on as well as she and Blaine did, they were still tentative friends, and Dave wasn't totally against the thought of hanging out with her, even if he had to watch what he said lest she run to Blaine and twist his words or some other Santana-y thing.

Then she started talking, and things went downhill. Per usual.

"So. Prom."

When she didn't offer any other explanation, Dave sighed. His better half had a higher tolerance for bullshit. As in, more than the none he had. "Just tell me what this is about, Lopez," he murmured, swirling his black tea in his cup. He didn't like tea much either, but it was the lesser of two evils.

Santana quirked an eyebrow at him, unfazed by his attitude. "You're all bark and no bite, Teddy Bear," she countered, laughing at his mortified expression. "Blame B-boy. He slipped and called you that last night. Hell, it's half the reason I had to have this little pow-wow with you."

She paused for a moment, and he thought he was safe from more ridicule until she smirked.

"Snuggles."

"For fuck's sake," Dave muttered under his breath. Sometimes he really hated how open Blaine was with Santana. Weren't some things supposed to be private? Like really embarrassing nicknames? "I'm gonna smack him."

The girl across from him made a little noise of acknowledgment through a sip of coffee, chuckling under her breath as she set the cup back down. "Yeah, I don't even know how I got it out of him. I was distracting him with my wardrobe choices for today – your boyfriend has some epic gay moments, by the way – and he just spilled it." Spinning her coffee between her fingers, she shrugged. "If it makes you feel any better, he looked like a puppy that got caught shitting on the carpet."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Tana, he always looks like that when he does something stupid."

"True."

After another pause, the right guard tried to steer the conversation into what he hoped might be safer waters. "You said something about prom?"

She nodded. "You got plans, Snuggles?"

Working his jaw, Dave somehow got his response out through clenched teeth. "I don't wanna go. So no."

"Everyone wants to go," Santana replied with an exasperated huff, flicking her thumbnail over her index's before digging in her purse. "Saying you don't want to go just means you're too much of a loser to get a date, and since you could get a date, you don't get to say you don't want to go. You get to say, 'I'm not going because I'd rather not take my boyfriend to a dance.'"

"I was gonna take him out to dinner or something," Dave murmured, posture slouching. Santana's bluntness was something he loved and hated about her. Right now he hated it. "It's not like I was gonna ignore him or something."

When Santana finally pulled out her nail file, she shot a surprisingly empathetic look towards him, reaching over and giving his hand a pat even as it curled around his cup. "You get an 'A' for effort, Dave, but that's not my point." Pulling her hand back, she picked up her nail file and started work on her index finger, a little crease forming between her brows. "My point is, I get that you're scared, and that's why you're not asking Blaine to the prom."

Tilting her chin up, head cocking off to the side, she regarded him with an almost non-existent smile. "So, instead, you're going to be my date."

He waited for the punch line, waited a good long time for it, really, but Santana just went back to filing her nails, clearly intent on letting him work this out on his own. She couldn't be serious.

"What the hell are you smoking?" He said finally, upper lip curled up slightly, brows furrowed.

"Nothing 'til later," she replied, sighing afterwards, putting away her file then lacing her fingers together on the table. "Look. I am not going stag. Wes is still with his picture perfect Barbie doll, Puck is going with Lauren, Finn is going with Rachel, Sam's not answering my calls, Mike's going with Tina and-"

"Go with Brit, then."

Santana looked at him like he was crazy. "Brit...?" Her voice took on an almost dreamy quality, but she shook it off, scoffing. "She's with Artie, dumbass, and why would I go with her anyway?"

Dave shrugged. "Haven't you guys been doin' it since, like, freshman year?"

"Eighth grade, actually. Why's that matter?"

"I dunno," he replied, taking a sip of his tea before continuing. "Just a suggestion. She'd go with you if you asked. Everyone knows you guys are tight."

"I'm not going to ask Brittany for the same reason you aren't going to ask Blaine," the girl murmured, voice uncharacteristically small, though her eyes were hard when she focused them on his. "So just drop it."

After all the shit Santana had pulled over the past few months, digging into his life and Blaine's, he decided not to listen to that little voice in his head. "No. You're both girls, it's not-"

"Oh, fuck off, Karofsky," she snapped, glaring. "Guys are only into it until they realize two girls actually have feelings for each other. Then it's nothing but dyke and carpet-munching comments."

"...I thought-"

"I have a lot of feelings, okay?" Shifting on her seat, she rolled her eyes. "You being a dick isn't going to keep us from going to prom, by the way. We need to go."

Dave's face scrunched in confusion, head tilting off to the slightest bit. "Why are you pressing this, Santana?"

Once more, her eyes rolled. "Okay, let's say I know someone who's planning to ask your boy to prom. As friends, obviously, otherwise they'd be in a ditch somewhere, but still."

"'Someone'?" he repeated, ignoring her rather vehement comment that came afterwards. "So... Kurt?"

"I didn't say that."

"Who else would it be?"

Letting out a groan, Santana's palm met her forehead with a dull smack, wrist flopping a moment later, gesturing toward him. "No, Dave. That's not what you say. You're supposed to say, 'well, gosh, Tana, Blaine's just so hot and sweet and even a blind and deaf person would find him attractive, who could it be?'"

Dave passed his tongue over his lips in thought, fingers tightening around his cup. "But... it is Kurt."

"I'm giving you prime material to get yourself laid, and that's all you have to say?

"I'm not following this at all," Dave admitted. He didn't like feeling confused, but he honestly didn't see how he and Blaine going to prom with completely different dates was better than them going on a date by themselves.

"Maybe," she began, voice sharp, indicating how put out she was, "during a slow song, I'll want some punch. And maybe I won't want you to get it for me. And maybe Kurt will want some punch, too. And maybe Blaine will step out for some air." Crossing her arms under her breasts, she rocked her head from side to side, pursing her lips. "And maybe – though this is the biggest flaw in the plan because I just don't see it happening – you'll grow a pair and chase after your boyfriend and actually dance with him. Complicated, I know."

Dave nodded slowly, chewing on his bottom lip. He hadn't really thought about it before. It just wasn't an option to go to prom with Blaine, no matter how much he loved him. Or rather, it was how much he loved him that was the problem. If they went together, even as 'friends', he really didn't trust himself not to touch him. Before, that fear of being found out always kept him in check, but lately, his intense feelings for his boyfriend had been overriding that fear. Maybe he should have been happy about that, but in the end, it just terrified him. He wasn't ready. Not right now.

"Okay... let's say I'm on board for this," he said, each word measured carefully. "I get why you're up for it, but... why Kurt?"

Santana shrugged. "Good question. I brought it up with him... I think he sees it as a chance to get his groove on with a cute boy. Wants to show erryone what's what. Plus, I mean, Blaine's his friend, and Blaine's got his heart set on you..." Her teeth dragged across the corner of her bottom lip, head ducking enough to catch his dropped gaze. "You know if I thought he was after him, I wouldn't've asked, right? Drama's great and all, but I don't want no one messing with my Blainofsky fix. Not 'til you guys start having sex and I'm tired of the play-by-plays from your boyfriend."

"I'm not- not worried about that. Blaine's not like that." He wasn't just saying that, either. His boyfriend was way too good of a person to cheat. The guilt alone would make him explode. "I just don't get why he'd help."

The Latina wrapped an arm over the back of her chair, shoulder hitching upward in another shrug. "Like I said, he's Blaine's friend. Plus, I may've called him out on being a selfish little bitch. I think he called me an 'overcompensating hobag' and then we smacked each other until I got a hold of his scarf and threatened to rip it."

The rest of their conversation consisted of Dave begrudgingly agreeing to Santana's plans and her informing him that she was wearing red, that he was to get her a matching corsage and at least wear one red thing with his suit. Other rules included owing her at least one slow dance, treating her to dinner at Breadstix beforehand, and doing "something hot" with Blaine when they got back to his place. Pictures optional.

At least she was considerate of privacy, right?

Dave's next coffee date, however, had him praying for a million conversations with Tana to get him out of this singular moment with one Kurt Hummel.

It was a Friday afternoon, and Dave didn't even bother getting something to drink this time. He was tense and so many kinds of uncomfortable and this was supposed to be the day he went to go visit Blaine, but he had a feeling this was going to take way too long for that to be feasible. He hated spending the night over at Blaine's. It was always awkward and Dave could feel Blaine's father's scathing glances.

The ones the man directed at him, he could handle, but when he shot one of them at Blaine? It took no inconsiderable amount of calming touches and words from his boyfriend to calm him down, and even that didn't always work.

Kurt took his seat across from him, setting his bag on an unused chair and crossing his leg over the other. "...Thank you for meeting me," he murmured, eyes focusing on Dave's face.

"It sounded important..." the larger boy replied, slouching back in his seat, brows furrowed. "So, what's up? Is someone giving you trouble?"

He tittered at that, shaking his head. "Oh, no. I haven't... I really haven't been bothered at all." Kurt's eyebrows rose. "It's... refreshing. I mean, I can still feel the looks, but all in all the environment isn't as caustic as it was. Outwardly, anyway."

Dave nodded. "That's... good. I'm... I mean-"

"You don't have to pretend to be happy for me."

"I'm not." Dave scrubbed his palm over his face, dropping it to the table a moment later. "Not pretending, I mean."

The blue-eyed boy stared at him, eyes narrowed slightly, chin tilted up. He could practically feel the judgmental waves rolling off him, but, eventually, he bobbed his head stiffly. "... At any rate, I asked you here because I need to speak to about my assignment in Glee club."

"What the hell does that have to do with me?"

"A couple things, actually," Kurt responded as if it were obvious. "Firstly, I've talked to Mr. Schuester and the rest of New Directions, and we'd all like you to join us."

"What?" Dave sat up, face scrunched in confusion. He couldn't be serious. "No way. I had my fill of dancing around like an idiot, thanks."

"It's about confronting and accepting your insecurities. What you're ashamed of." He paused, tilting his head off to the side. "Something you want to change about yourself."

Shifting uncomfortably, Dave clenched his jaw, molars grinding against one another. It just took someone pointing out his issues for him to snap shut like a clam. What the fuck did Kurt know about insecurities anyway?

"So?" he shot back, trying to appear as uninterested as he could.

"You're ashamed of being gay." Kurt's nonchalant tone was infuriating. "This isn't a performance for the school, David. It'll just be the Glee club, most of which you're already on decent terms with." He took a sip of his coffee, sighing contentedly, eyes shut, before regarding Dave again. "Puck is the only one who hates you. I'll speak with him, though. If he won't listen to reason, I can blackmail him into behaving for a short time."

"Look," he continued without giving Dave a chance to respond, "I'm quite aware of your feelings towards dancing, singing, Gaga – you know, all things gay that don't have a direct connection to your boyfriend." Kurt lifted a finger to silence the retort on the tip of his tongue. "But you have serious issues with self-loathing, self-image and, frankly, you're too willing to dismiss what Glee club can do for you because it's gay."

"There's already rumors flying around," Dave snapped, glaring at the boy across from him. "I don't need to encourage it by prancing around like a fuckin' fairy, okay?" Swallowing thickly, he shook his head. God, he didn't need this. He was already stressing out about prom, about what could happen with Blaine. This on top of it was just asking for trouble.

"We're performing next weekend. Just us. And Blaine, if you'd be kind enough to extend an invitation to him."

Just the thought of Blaine being there helped. He felt the tension between his shoulder blades loosen, and saw Kurt shoot him a small, knowing smile. Dave rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay, you found my weakness. I'll talk to him. And the moment he hears 'dancing,' we'll be going."

"Ah." Kurt's smile turned into more of a smirk. "Didn't take him long to have you whipped, hmm?"

Dave knew Kurt was goading him. Or, hell, he was just being himself. Sometimes he really respected the guy across from him. Other times he wanted to duct tape his mouth shut. The latter of which being what Kurt expected of him. So Dave decided to do the opposite.

"Yeah, well," he began, relishing the other boy's confused expression, "if he was doing for you what he does for me, you'd do whatever he wanted, too."

The smirk on Dave's face was nothing short of wicked, and it took a hell of a lot more willpower than he knew existed not to just laugh when he saw Kurt's jaw go slack, going to retort several times but in the end not being able to. Damn, he was proud of himself.

Clearing his throat delicately, Kurt pursed his lips, forehead wrinkling. "Well. Aren't you making progress."

That made him laugh, loud enough to actually get a slight flush to his cheeks out of embarrassment. Dave rubbed the back of his neck, but didn't look the least bit apologetic. "S'only half true," he admitted. It wasn't even that much true, really. The best thing about Blaine dancing was that he went to a whole different place when he was performing. He was carefree, and Dave knew better than anyone what a rarity that was for his boyfriend.

Kurt cocked his head but didn't press, though the curiosity was there. "Right, well, the other reason I wanted to speak to you is... this assignment as gotten me thinking. We're supposed to be accepting that which makes us insecure, or ashamed, or what have you." His lips pressed together in a thin line. "...I wanted to apologize. I've been... selfish and bitter." A self-deprecating smile curled at one corner of his mouth. "Well, selfishness is a given. I want to go into showbiz, after all. But I... I need to let this go. Let Blaine go."

"He is... was very important to me," the boy continued, eying his coffee rather instead of looking at Dave. "I made a relationship up in my head. Blaine's just an... incredibly loving boy, and I mistook his care for me as something deeper. Mostly because I've never had someone who actually empathized with me."

Dave bobbed his head, understanding completely. Even though his boyfriend never actually went through the same motions as he had, Blaine had this eerie ability to comprehend whatever you were going through, no matter how over his head it might be. He loved that about him.

"For what it's worth, I, uh, used to think you two were dating before Blaine and I, uh... got... closer." Made out in my bed, I mean, but you don't need to know that.

The other boy chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "He's just affectionate. I know that now," Kurt murmured, brushing some of his hair back. "I should have been more forward... although it would have been nice if he had dialed down his obliviousness once or twice."

"I don't think he'd be Blaine if he did that," Dave mused with a fond chuckle.

Kurt set his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. "True. Regardless, I wanted to... clear the air. You're working to make up for your mistakes, the least I can do is acknowledge I made some, too."

Dave sucked on his bottom lip in thought. He didn't know what to say to that. It's true, he didn't like Kurt's attitude toward their relationship, but he understood at the same time. Sort of. "...Thanks," he said finally, a wrinkle forming between his brows. "But... I mean, not that I don't appreciate it..."

"But, I should be telling Blaine this," Kurt finished for him, nodding. "I know." He shifted in his seat, posture going rigid as he changed position, crossing his other leg over, jaw twitching. "I plan to. Eventually. I'm still getting over him, and I'd rather not make things more awkward when we're just starting to be friends again."

"Is that why you're not taking Sam?" Dave asked, blunt as always. "He said you guys-"

"Sam has enough going on right now," the other boy replied sharply. "I'm not putting him through the stress of being another boy's date on top of... what all he's going through." His fingers drummed against his coffee cup. "Besides, who am I to deny Blaine the chance to make a fool of himself?"

"And to answer your question, yes, that's why." Kurt tilted his chin up. "It's not fair to him to try some sort of relationship yet. Sam's never been anything but kind to me; I'm trying to return the favor."

There was a stretch of awkward silence before Dave spoke up again. "So... have you asked Blaine yet?"

"No. I was going to drive over tomorrow morning and speak with him." Kurt arched an eye brow. "Does that interfere with anything...?"

"Ah- hah, uh." The larger boy stammered, blushing.

"So, you can tell me he's doing filthy things to you without batting an eyelash, but I point out you're dating, and you blush like a schoolgirl." He chuckled softly, standing up and lifting his bag onto his shoulder. "Go see him in the afternoon. I won't take long... just need to talk to him face to face about this."

"Right. Okay." Dave didn't bother getting up. He had way too much on his mind right now. Maybe he'd talk a walk. "...Thank you. For all of this."

Kurt offered him a small smile before leaving him in the Lima Bean alone. He'd call Blaine later, make plans for the weekend, maybe talk to him. Maybe not. Honestly, he just wanted this whole prom thing to go off without a hitch, let alone this let's all hold hands and accept ourselves performance that he wasn't even sure he was going to get involved with.


But getting involved is exactly what he did. He rehearsed, danced, sang right alongside the rest of the Glee club and his boyfriend. In fact, he had a pretty good time with it, even if a lot of it was just getting a kick out of seeing Blaine goofing off and acting like everyone in New Directions was already his best friend.

It honestly wasn't until that next Saturday afternoon, sitting in the driver's seat in WMHS's parking lot in his white "Born This Way" t-shirt under his zipped up vest. He hadn't shown anyone what it said, and now that the time was coming to share it with thirteen other people, not including Mr. Schue and the techies and the band, he was having second thoughts. Hell, he was having third and fourth thoughts about all this. What the hell was he thinking?

"...I don't think I can do this," he murmured quietly, shutting off the ignition and slouching in his seat, looking at Blaine out of the corner of his eye.

"We don't have to do it if you don't want to."

The words were out of Blaine's mouth before he could even think about them, acting as if on instinct the moment he felt Dave withdraw. He unbuckled his belt and turned in his seat, tugging the sleeves of his half-open cardigan up over his hands so he could reach over and grab Dave's arm. Pulling it away from the steering wheel, one hand slipped down until it curled around his fingers, and Blaine gave him a twist of an encouraging smile. "The whole lesson is to take off all of these layers, isn't it?" he asked him, his other hand moving up Dave's bicep and over his shoulder until he was cupping the side of his neck. "I'll be right there if you really want to do this. And if you don't? We can sit in the audience. Both of us."

"You want to do this, though." Dave shifted in his seat to get a better look at the other boy, his own eyes wide and scared, giving him a younger appearance. "I just- I-I can't. I'm su-supposed to be better than this." He knew what everyone assumed his shirt would say. Hell, he almost put closetedon there. But that wasn't the real thing he was ashamed of.

"I'm supposed to be stronger," he added, eyes shaking, an unspoken but not unheard for you lingering in the air between them.

Blaine pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it and nodding as his hand settled on Dave's shoulder instead. "You are," he replied, a tiny but fond smile curling in the corners of his mouth. "Come on, you can't tell me that a few months ago you would've known that you'd be sitting in a car outside of the auditorium on a weekend even considering performing a number with the Glee club about insecurities. I'm proud of you for even getting this far."

He laughed at that, though it was weak and a little rough. "I guess that's true." Dave brought his hand up, covering Blaine's on his shoulder, thumb idly rubbing there. "I just- I hate doing this to you. I was... we were supposed to..." Jerking his head toward the school, he shrugged. "I dunno. I thought I was ready. I keep telling myself I am."

"I think you are, actually," Blaine murmured, tilting his head until he felt it hit the back of his seat. "But you're not ready to be ready."

While he wasn't entirely sure if that made any sense, Blaine went with it. He drifted forward until his forehead met the curve of Dave's shoulder and he stayed there for a moment, eyes shut, considering what he'd just said. His own shirt was emblazoned with thick, black letters that spelled out 'people pleaser.' Which wasn't surprising, considering how willing he was to give up this opportunity to sit next to Dave in the audience and watch everyone's rousing song and dance of self-acceptance.

He already accepted the words on his shirt as the truth. He knew that he did this for a reason, that he gave up things right and left in order to make life easier on everyone and, in the end, himself. But this was different, wasn't it? By giving up something that meant a lot to him, he was helping someone who meant even more to him. It wasn't people pleasing as much as it was a much needed sacrifice on a small scale.

"We don't even have to go in if you don't want to," Blaine continued, pulling back enough to look up at Dave with an encouraging little smile. He was trying so hard, and it was probably so obvious. But he didn't mind. He wanted Dave to be happy. "We can go get some of those apple pies from McDonalds and make out?"

Dave paused for a long moment, obvious conflict rolling over his face. That sounded a hell of a lot better than humiliating himself. Then his eyes drifted down to Blaine's shirt, and the corners of his mouth turned down. He knew Blaine gave up a lot, and not just for him, and Dave was tired of being one of the causes. He may not have been ready to get up and dance in a real performance yet, but that sort of thing made his boyfriend ecstatic.

"I'm not taking this from you," he murmured. "I don't mind sitting in the audience. I may not be... ready to be ready, but... this is for you, too. And you want to do this. And I'm trying not to be a selfish prick today."

Blaine's face lit up like the fourth of July, if only for a brief moment before he schooled his expression into something a little more sedate. Wetting his lips, he nodded as everything processed and eventually ended in him frowning, if only slightly. "I do want to do this," he murmured, "but I wanted to do it with you. I still do."

Leaning in again, Blaine pressed a cautious kiss to Dave's cheek. "Later, after we're done here, I want to dance with you, okay?" His hand snuck up and patted over the center of Dave's chest. "Sans the vest."

"S'long as the apple pie and make out thing is still on," Dave replied with a little smile before getting out of the car.

They held hands on occasion as they made their way to the auditorium, having to break apart when the odd student passed by. There were a few people on the prom committee that were still around, getting things ready, mostly popular girls, girls Dave knew. He hated the way he panicked, but what was even worse was the way Blaine deflated. It wasn't obvious – he always tried to hide it – but Dave could just tellnow. After so many months getting to know him, it was impossible not to.

When they made it to the auditorium, they said a quick goodbye, sharing a quick peck. Dave slipped into the seats to the far right of the stage and watched his boyfriend sprint over to the rest of New Directions. He was immediately tackled by his fellow Shireling. Kurt smiled and waved, Brit ruffled his hair, Sam and Puck clapped him on the back.

But where was-

"You're not performing?"

Ah. There she was. Dave turned to look at Santana. She had her jacket zipped up nearly to her neckline. "No. Co- I didn't feel like making an idiot of myself."

The Latina looked at him, expression shifting a few times before she frowned. "Yeah. Me either."

She took the seat next to him, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. They didn't speak. They just watched as New Directions Minus One took their positions, curtains closing and leaving Kurt alone on the stage.

The performance itself was highly successful. After Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina began the song, the curtains opened and admitted another few people onto the stage. Blaine lingered in the wings with the other boys, bouncing anxiously on the soles of his sneakers between Puck and Finn. But all of that nervousness melted away when it was his turn to run out with the rest of them.

To say that Blaine came alive during a performance was a complete understatement. Every time those bright, hot lights hit him, it was like he was stripped of everything but the song. He didn't have any worries, any stress; nothing mattered but hitting the right notes and nailing the choreography.

And nail the choreography he did. While he was smaller than the other boys, the bright smile that lit up his face as he very nearly tore off his black sweater and tossed it at the foot of the stage set him apart. They all had show faces. They remembered to smile when they weren't singing. But what Blaine was wearing wasn't a show face. It was pure, unadulterated delight.

No matter black, white, or beige, chola or orient made...

His mouth fell open in a laugh as his hand slipped down to just above the button of his jeans, glancing over at Sam as that same hand swerved around to the back and his shoulder popped out in a bounce. It was certainly more provocative than anything the Warblers had ever done, and it was refreshing in a way he couldn't really describe.

Dave had been doing relatively well until he saw his boyfriend's hand run over his stomach and the fly of his skin-tight jeans. Before, he was just intensely proud, enjoying the sight of Blaine running around, showing all those New Direction kids how it was done while just being the happiest person in the world. After that, though, there was a want. It wasn't sweet or loving or even possessive, he just wantedBlaine, right that moment. More than he ever had before.

Confidence rolled off the Warbler in waves. Dave had never seen him this way, not even during regionals. This was something different. Something hot and incredible and God he would have given anythingto just –

"Bathroom's down the hall and to the left, champ." Santana's voice cut through his reverie, surprisingly soft considering she was making another smart remark. "If you take your time, I'm sure B-baby would lo-oveto help you out."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Says the girl who's about to start a bushfire from all the thigh grinding she's doing."

"Just watch the fucking performance." She paused for a beat before nudging him in the ribs. "'Bushfire?'" She nodded approvingly, lips pursing. "I've taught you well, grasshoppa."

He snorted in response. "Yeah, no. I was crude and perverted waaaay before you, Lopez. Now shut up."

Dave imagined that normally wouldn't have worked, but give what was happening on the stage right now, it was no wonder they both wanted quiet. His hazel eyes immediately found Blaine, and he felt a shuddering breath course through him, pupils dilating and gaze intensifying as he watched him like he was the only person in existence, let alone on the stage.

Every now and then, Blaine caught sight of Dave and his smile somehow grew. He knew Dave wasn't ready to be up there, but that wouldn't stop him from giving it his all. If anything, he was up there, being strong for both of them. That was enough to give him a rush that sent his confidence soaring to previously untold heights. Maybe one day soon they'd be able to get up on stage together, but he knew that would take a while. He could be patient. He wanted to be patient. He would be patient.

As Mr. Schuester led the school's counselor out onto the stage, Blaine felt a hand in his and turned his attention to see one grinning Mike Chang ushering him into action. The other members were running up and down the low-lying risers in a lazily shaped oval, and Blaine followed suit, hopping up the stair only to turn around and run backwards for just long enough to catch Brittany's eye.

The girl shot past Kurt, much to his surprise, and snatched up his other hand, grinning toothily at him as the the three of them hopped down onto the floor. Mike let go not long after, spinning on the balls of his feet in the direction of his flushed cheeked girlfriend, but Brittany held onto his hand, fingers laced haphazardly through his as they came to a breathless stop just behind Mercedes.

When the song was finished, Blaine was nearly bent backwards by the lanky blonde's affectionate squeeze, shoulders bumping into Kurt, who couldn't seem to stop laughing at his friend's currently precarious position. Once Brittany righted herself and let go, Puck offered him a high five that he gladly took.

It was as if the differences between the Warblers and New Directions had just been scrawled down with pen and paper right in front of his face. This wasn't just a club. It was a family. And he didn't feel like a stranger there anymore. He was some kind of eccentric cousin, and he desperately hoped that one day he would be even more than that.

Fifteen minutes passed from the end of the performance before he was able to break away from the group to go find Dave. He'd seen him leave in Santana's wake not long after the song wrapped, so he hoped he would find him in the hallway that wrapped around the auditorium. He did, but not in the way he'd expected.

Blaine was still pulling on his sweater when he rounded the corner to see the two of them standing off to the side, near one of the trophy cases, with Santana wrapped in the larger boy's arms. He knew what comfort looked like. He could see it in the way Dave's brows knitted together, just like he could see the desire for comfort in the way Santana's shoulders trembled visibly even from this distance.

Dave looked up from the top of Santana's head, and his sudden change of position alerted her to Blaine's presence. She pulled away from Dave right after, sniffing back whatever tears hadn't already been soaked up into Dave's shirt, and nodded to him when Blaine tried to give his best smile. He only caught a glimpse of it, but without her arms barred across her chest, her jacket fell open just enough to reveal what her shirt said.

Unworthy.

There was a pang in Blaine's chest as he watched her go, fingers twisting in the fabric of his sweater as he continued trying to pull it back on. He knew some of the reason behind her choice. There was no way for him to know all of it, but he knew enough for it to actually, physically hurt to see her like that.

By the time he reached where Dave was standing, his smile had slipped from his face, but there was a light in his eyes that hadn't left since the song had begun.

"Hi," Blaine murmured, hands absently smoothing over his vest, lip pulled up between both rows of teeth.

Dave's hands went to the other boy's face, cradling his jaw and pressing a firm kiss to his lips. He'd be lying if he said that the lust from watch Blaine like that on stage had worn off – it definitely hadn't – but this kiss wasn't about anything so base. After listening to Santana talk about how she didn't know where she stood with two people she had very intense feelings for, Dave had an intense urge to reconnect with Blaine in any way possible.

There were times, how ever rare, that he forgot how extremely lucky he was to have someone like Blaine.

Pulling back, he gave the Warbler's cheekbone a tender stroke of his thumb, smiling softly, voice just as gentle when he spoke. "Hey."

Blaine could feel every muscle in his body turn to jelly the second he heard Dave's voice, how soft and gentle it could be when it was directed at him. It made him feel warm in the best way possible, like he'd been submerged into a tub full of hot water. Taking a step forward, he curled his arms around Dave's waist and resting his cheek on his shoulder. "Let's go home," he said, his own voice nearly a whisper. "Before the guys try to bully me into taking them out for pizza again. No way am I feeding everyone here."

Dave didn't need any convincing on that part.

He got them "home" (or rather, to Dave's place; the fact that Blaine considered it home, too, made his heart do odd things he wasn't entirely sure were healthy) in record time, and noting that his father was at work and his mother was currently reading in her garden, well, his boyfriend was lucky he didn't wrench his arm right out of its socket the way he dragged him up the stairs and into his room.

The other boy was chuckling, and Dave knew some smart remark was coming, so instead of allowing for it, he turned on Blaine the moment he heard the door click shut, grasping his hips and pulling him forward until their hips made contact. He didn't say a word, staying silent in favor of letting his darkened eyes coast over what parts of Blaine he could see, the corner of his mouth hitching up in a subtle smirk.

Blaine's eyes slammed shut, breath hitching in his throat the moment he felt their hips touch, only looking back up at Dave when his lips twisted into that little smirk. A look that normally would've sent his stomach twisting and his nerves fraying in the best way only emboldened him now. His entire body was still humming from the excitement of the number, and he didn't take a moment to waste idling around. Instead, he rolled up onto the balls of his feet and grabbed Dave's face, kissing his bottom lip before pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it for a long moment.

When he drew back, he looked up at Dave through his lashes - timid and decidedly not at the same time. "Come here," he murmured, guiding him around just enough and working at the zipper of his vest. It was off in no time, and Blaine cast it aside before actually looking at his shirt. Scared. That's what it said. In big, bold, black letters.

Leaning into him, Blaine buried his face into Dave's chest, pressing little kisses over the fabric as his hands pawed at his waist. "Nothing to be afraid of," he said softly, fingertips slipping beneath the hem of the shirt barely enough to rub over his warm skin. "Definitely not here, but not anywhere."

He didn't give Dave the luxury to respond.

Blaine was too busy walking them backwards - which was ten times easier considering how willing Dave was to go with the flow. Even if that 'flow' led to him falling backwards until he was able to brace himself on his bed's mattress, his eyes going wide as Blaine climbed on top of him.

"Fucking hell, Blaine!" Dave's voice was a growl, and he was just as uninterested in drawing this out as Blaine was. He didn't want to think about what his shirt said, no matter how true it was. Blaine was right; he had no reason to be scared, not here, not with him.

So instead of being frightened, he latched onto that pure feeling of want that had been plaguing him for nearly an hour and grasped onto the backs of his boyfriend's thighs. The jeans were tight – obscenelytight – and the denim was thin and Dave could feel the heat of his body. His fingertips dented into his thighs, forcing their groins to connect with a firm tug.

Part of him wanted to shove Blaine onto his back and just do whatever the fuck he felt like to him, but the other, louder part of him was entranced. Blaine had been on top of him plenty of times, but it was never like this. Never primal and rough and he never looked so fucking cocky before. It boiledDave's blood, but hell if it didn't turn him on like a light switch.

A reluctant hand left Blaine's thigh, fingers going to curl around the nape of his neck, tugging him down until they were forehead to forehead, staring into each others eyes. But he didn't kiss him. Dave wanted to, so bad, but he didn't. Instead, he rocked his hips upwards, grinding against his boyfriend, taking a deep breath to avoid moaning himself. It was a silent, if pointed, challenge.

Blaine wasn't hesitant about responding. He let out a stuttered moan as he shut his eyes, his body arching forward only to press even farther down on top of him. Even if Dave was set on biting his tongue and keeping quiet, there wouldn't be any hesitating from him. Not tonight. He was still buzzing on adrenaline, and he could hardly deny this opportunity.

Leaning closer to him, Blaine nipped at his bottom lip before twisting his head to the side and kissing him. Hard. His hands pawed up Dave's arms until they were pressing his shoulders down into the mattress, tongue pushing past lips and teeth and taking advantage of this new angle to slide it even deeper into his mouth.

When he pulled back, he stared at Dave through heavy-lidded eyes, murmuring a quiet, breathy, "I love you," before snatching his lips up in another hurried kiss.

Dave's hips continued in a slow, deliberate roll, his hands making their way to the swells of Blaine's ass, gripping tightly and encouraging him to move similarly. The kiss was responded to in kind, though his breath caught from the words, despite everything that was happening. Blaine was capable of that, always. No matter his emotions at the time, the boy on top of him knew exactly how to tug at his heart.

His callused palms slid over Blaine's hips, squeezing at his waist, until he finally grabbed hold of the edge of his shirt, very nearly tearing it in the process of peeling it over the Warbler's head.

Dave shot him a heated glance, both eyes and hands shamelessly raking over his stomach, though the former managed to make it all the way up to his eyes. "I love you, too," he replied huskily, tongue passing over his lips. "Even if you're wearing way too much."

"You're wearing even more than I am," Blaine said, voice low as he passed his tongue over his lips, eyes drifting down over his chest. His hands left Dave's shoulders as he straightened his posture a little, legs somehow managing to split enough to straddle his hips, the fabric of his jeans pulling tight over his thighs and waist. The friction against his growing erection made him hiss under his breath, but it didn't deter him.

Instead, his hands slipped down Dave's stomach, palming at it as he rolled his hips downward, shifting just enough to press them so close together it was as if they were joined. He didn't mind if Dave was wearing more layers; he could deal with those later, once he was out of these damn jeans.

When his attention turned towards the button of his jeans, his fingertips were intercepted for just long enough for his slender hand to sneak in between them, palm working over his fly, shoulders hunched forward and loose curls casting a shadow over his features. He wasn't usually this forward, but he was comfortable with Dave now. He knew that if Dave didn't want this, he wouldn't just let it happen, but he wouldn't be pissed about it, either.

So Blaine palmed over Dave's bulge with one hand as the other began working the button out of its hole. The button was freed and the zipper unzipped when he heard something that made his blood run cold. A pair of footsteps were coming up from the first floor. Panic seized through his body, and he stared down at Dave with suddenly wide eyes.

Dave sank his teeth into his bottom lip, to stifle the embarrassingly loud moan that threatened to leave him. He shot Blaine a dirty look, even though it wasn't his fault.

There was a knock, which was uncharacteristically polite of his mother. She usually just barged in. "David?" Monica Karofsky called through the door. "Is there a reasonyou didn't say hello to me when you got home?"

Sure, Mom, Dave thought to himself, I wanted to get my boyfriend naked and possibly ask him if I could blow him but thanks for ruining the moment! He cleared his throat. "Uh- Blaine was-" His brow furrowed, and he looked to the boy who was stillon top of him pleadingly, wanting some sort of help. When he just shrugged, Dave rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath about blue balls. "Blaine was tired. So, I – uh – brought him up here. So he could... nap."

Jesus Christ he sucked at lying.

Dave's horrendous lie forced Blaine into action, though he was a lot more panicky than he would have liked. He couldn't act on the spot if he was panicking. Wetting his lips again, he shut his eyes and pictured something - the opened jaw and o-shaped mouth of a man yawning. All it took was a second, and he was yawning, too, though he made sure it was louder than usual, if only so she could hear it.

"I was really tired, that's all!" he called back to Dave's mother. The pain from the tightness of his jeans was nothing compared to the sharp pang that shot into his stomach when the teeth of the zipper of his pants latched together. He very nearly saw stars, biting down on his bottom lip before lurching forward, his forehead impacting with Dave's shoulder.

The larger boy's brows slanted upward sympathetically. He couldn't thank enough deities that he was wearing cargo pants. It still hurt like a bitch, but he wasn't about to try and compare boner-pains with the guy who looked more like he had his jeans painted on.

Dave heard the distinctive tap of his mother's flats against the bottom of the door. On the odd occasion that she didn't just waltz right into his room, she made it very clear when she was getting impatient. So Dave slid his hands between them, undoing Blaine's fly as carefully as he could while still being hasty about it, murmuring an apology to his temple when he heard him whine in pain. He lifted the boy off him, laying him out on the bed and watching as he rezipped and buttoned everything.

After tossing Blaine his shirt, Dave went and grabbed the largest sweatshirt he owned – a McKinley one from freshman year when he had been a bit heavier – and slipped it on, praising God and Jesus and whoever else would listen that it mostly covered his problem area.

Walking over to the door, he opened it, not intending to let her in, though she somehow found her way into his room anyway, crossing her arms over her chest and arching a brow, eyes flicking between the two boys. Dave swallowed thickly.

"Hi, Mom!" Dave tried to be as enthusiastic as he could, and also tried not to chuckle when Blaine barely managed a hello Mrs. Karofsky.

"Bit late, dear," she murmured with a small smile. "You two have been talking about the performance all week. I wanted to know how it went!"

Blaine had somehow scrambled fast enough to get both his shirt on and beneath the top blanket on Dave's bed, cheek pressing into one of his pillows and a smile on his face. "It was fun," he murmured, making a show of stretching his legs under the blanket as punctuation. He hadn't thought the move through entirely, and he cringed a little as he drew his legs back. "It's why I'm so exhausted. I had a long week, too."

Monica smirked and Dave cursed inwardly. He knew that smirk. That was the smirk she wore when she knew. It didn't matter if he was lying about brushing his teeth when he was five or making up lame excuses as to why he drove to Westerville so often back when he and Blaine first started dating. She knew. She alwaysdid.

Fuck.

"I'm sure you worked very hard," his mother murmured, clearing her throat afterwards. "Since you're so... tired, Blaine, we'll talk at dinner, hmm?" She didn't even bother hiding the loud laugh that came after she shut the door behind her.

Dave waited for her footsteps to fade before he actually let out a breath of, "Oh my God."

Turning over onto his stomach, Blaine let out a low whine, his abject embarrassment overwhelming even the pressure that came with his laying almost directly on himself. This was horrible. Even though he was sure Dave's mom knew the extent of how... close they'd gotten since they started dating, this was different. They'd almost been caught. Naked. Well, he'd almost been caught naked. Dave was still wearing all of his clothes by the time she knocked.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to go to dinner," Blaine murmured into the pillow. "There are things I just can't do. And facing your mom after hiding under blankets to conceal my erection is one of them."

Walking over to his bed, he sat down on the edge, stroking Blaine's back through the blanket. Dave couldn't help but let out a chuckle, thready and relieved though it was. "It's that or she brings food up here," he murmured, leaning over to press a kiss to the other boy's temple only to be reminded he hadn't quite lost his own erection just yet.

Grunting, Dave took a deep breath and closed the gap between his lips and Blaine's skin, arm wrapping awkwardly around his shoulders. "For what it's worth, that was, like, the hottest five minutes of my life."

Blaine couldn't help but chuckle at that, turning over just enough to look up at him. "I know what you mean," he replied, shutting his eyes and scooting a little closer to him, cheek pressing into his forearm. "I'm going to have to do suggestive dances to Gaga more often. I can ask Kurt for ideas." Shaking his head, the curly-haired boy lifted himself up just far enough to give him a soft peck on the lips.

"I'll make this missed opportunity up to you. I promise," Blaine continued, wrapping an arm around Dave's waist and shooting a look up at him. His voice lowered to a quiet rasp and his fingertips toyed at the fabric of his sweatshirt. "I'll show you how much of a people pleaser I can be."


A/N: Blainofsky goes to prom is next! You guys have no idea how excited we are for it. Just wanted to thank all our readers and our reviewers again! Gives us warm fuzzies to know people are really liking this fic. MUCH LOVE.