(Author's note: Warning for consensual rough sex and irresponsible condom use. -amy)

The play ended with Montague and Capulet promising to be kinsmen both and to honor the memory of their sons with statues in Verona. The cast, on stage and off, applauded and hooted as the Prince spoke the last lines.

"We'll practice the curtain call later," said Bryce. "Everyone, come to the apron."

Everyone looked exhausted, but none so much as Bryce himself. Kurt glanced at Trinity in concern and watched her shake her head in response.

"Are you okay, Bryce?" asked Oliver.

"I'm disappointed," he said. He looked at Noah. "Because Chris Janssen was not able to be here today."

Noah looked at his shoes while the rest of the cast murmured agreement. Kurt could only hear Harriet's words: He had to throw away his shirt, it was so bad, and he felt a prickle of unease.

"And yet, the show must go on. Thanks to the Herculean efforts of Joel Ramos and Noah Puckerman, you were not only able to perform the entire play, you were able to do it in two hours and fifty-three minutes."

The cast broke into applause again. Noah joined in, though it seemed halfhearted.

"The pacing was better in the second half. Noah, you'll suspend your classes tomorrow. You'll rehearse the fight choreography in the morning, and I'll arrange for a fencing tutor for you in the afternoon. We can't have you killing everyone in the show by accident."

There was a smattering of laughter. Noah still didn't smile, but he nodded, listening.

"Trinity will deliver you my written notes in lieu of making you stay here longer. It's late, and you should get to bed." He gave the whole cast a stern look. "Bed, you do understand, means sleeping? There will be no partying of any kind this week, children."

They murmured agreement. Then Bryce turned to Kurt.

"Do you have any insight regarding Julian's change of tone?"

"It was Puck who pointed it out. I made a choice to follow through with the frustration and anger that Julian was feeling earlier in the show." He turned up his nose at Curtis's glare. "It felt like the right thing to do. I'm only sorry it took me this long to figure it out."

"A valid decision. We will explore it this week to allow it to inform additional scenes." Bryce took a big breath, and they all breathed with him, and let it out together. There was more laughter, and he smiled. "Well done, everyone. Noah, a moment, if you will."

Kurt waited until Noah was done talking to Bryce. He held out his arm and slid it around Noah's waist, and Noah let him without question.

"What was that about?"

Noah didn't answer, but that wasn't a surprise. Kurt had learned long ago it helped to give Noah lots of lead time to process questions before expecting an answer. They walked in silence together for a few minutes. Several people looked at them curiously as they passed, and a few called out compliments to either or both of them. Kurt smiled at everyone for both of them.

"Um," said Noah. He paused, looking at the ground. "Bryce wants to call my dad. To see if he would come out to watch the performance."

"Did you say yes?"

"He said I could think about it." He blinked rapidly. "What he actually said was, I would like to invite Aaron and Felix."

"Oh. Oh, wow." Kurt gazed at him in amazement. "Do you think he knew about them?"

"I have no idea. He's known my dad a long time. Maybe he's been saying things like that forever and I never noticed before. Felix and my dad, they were friends, right?" Noah shook his head, clearly overwhelmed. "Or something. Shit."

"Yeah," he agreed.

When he offered a hug, Noah stepped right into it. They stood there a long time in one another's arms, long enough for it to stop feeling comforting and start feeling amorous.

"Bryce told us to go to bed."

He hadn't meant it to sound quite that suggestive, but when Noah groaned, he made a little thrust against him, and they both caught their breath.

"I'm sure he meant sleep," he added, "not sex."

"Yeah, he's fucking seventy. You think he's gonna take a poll?" But Noah was already pulling away, reluctantly, but with resigned agreement. "You're probably right, though. I'm gonna fall asleep in about five minutes."

Noah held his hand as they walked the back toward Laura Keane, but when Kurt said, "Would you tell me about what happened with Chris?" he felt Noah flinch.

"I really can't, Kurt."

Can't, or won't? he wondered. But he wasn't about to push Noah at this moment, not when he was exhausted. "Then… can I ask you a different question, about your acting method? We've done a lot of scenes together, but I've never been in a show like this with you. You're different. You really become the character. I saw you do it several times tonight."

Noah nodded. "I know what you're talking about, but… I'm not sure I have a good answer for how."

"I figured. I wish I could learn how. Sometimes I was able to do it, but I don't know how, either, and sometimes I couldn't, and I don't know why I couldn't." He squeezed Noah's hand. "It was definitely easier when I was playing opposite you, though."

"Yeah, same here."

There was another, briefer silence. Kurt took a deep breath, then hesitated.

"What?" asked Noah.

"Did you… think I did okay?"

Noah stopped where he was in the middle of the path. The way he was staring at Kurt, with intense focus, was enough to make him wish he hadn't asked.

"Did I think you did okay?" Noah demanded.

Kurt tried not to cringe. "Yes?"

"Kurt…" Noah sighed in frustration. "You stole the fucking show. And this wasn't even the dress rehearsal."

"No," Kurt laughed, shaking his head. The pleasure that flooded through him felt more like relief, along with a heavy dose of inadequacy. "It was definitely you that did that. You transformed the whole production in one rehearsal."

"Maybe I made it happen, but you're the one they noticed. I'm just an actor, Kurt." He touched Kurt's arm, so tenderly. "You? You're a star."

Kurt found himself unable to respond. He smiled harder, his face hurting with the force of it, and tugged Noah closer until they were walking shoulder to shoulder.

When they arrived at Laura Keane and Kurt tried to head for the stairs, Noah halted, looking torn.

"So that's it for tonight?"

"I already asked Bethany where Asher was sleeping," Kurt said regretfully, "and she said in his own room where he belongs."

"Okay. Yeah." Noah's face looked sunken and drawn, like everything he'd done in the last three hours had taken all the life out of him.

"What do you need?" Kurt asked.

Noah just shook his head helplessly. "I don't know."

There was, at least, one obvious answer. "I can't keep asking Asher to sleep in somebody else's room at night, especially not during production week. But I think you and I could arrange to have my room to ourselves between afternoon class and dinner this week. At least we'd have those couple of hours to—to be nothing but whatever we need for one another."

Noah let out a quiet snort. "I'll tell you what, Kurt; what we need is probably going to look a lot like napping."

"So that's what we'll do."

"All right." Noah still looked disappointed, but relieved, too. "Can I walk you to your room?"

They paused outside his door for a brief kiss, but even that prompted far more attention than they were looking for at the moment. Noah gave him a little adorable wave as Kurt unlocked his room, then turned and headed back down the hall to the stairs.

"Noah?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

What happened to Chris? The words were on his lips, but he realized there was no way he could say them. "I have forgot why I did call thee back."

Noah didn't roll his eyes, but he did grin. "Really?"

He shrugged hopefully. "Well…"

"You didn't hear enough Romeo from my mouth tonight?" But Noah sauntered forward a few steps, close enough to touch Kurt's fingertips, but not any closer. "Let me stay here till thou remember it."

"I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, / Remembering how I love thy company." He stroked Noah's fingers with his own, watching him shiver.

"And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, / forgetting any other home but this." He raised an eyebrow. "That enough?"

"Until tomorrow."

He withdrew into his room and closed the door before he could beg Noah to stay and recite another sonnet.

Asher stirred as Kurt entered, turning on the light next to his bed.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," said Kurt.

"No, no, I was waiting for you. How'd the stumblethrough go?"

Kurt sank down on the edge of the bed. "Really well. And… I'm not sure how to process all of it." He took a deep breath. "This is the first time I've ever been in a real show with Puck."

"Oh." Asher laughed quietly, nodding. "I definitely get it."

"I thought you might, after watching the two of you rehearse Earnest." He slowly took off his shoes and socks, pausing a weary moment to deposit them into the laundry hamper. "What Teresa said… that nobody really likes Puck. It's like that at home, too. I think at least in Glee club, we've decided it's okay the way he is, even if he's—the way he is." He paused. "What do you think about him?"

"I think he's extraordinary," said Asher. "And I think I don't have to like him to have a good professional relationship with him. I'm learning a lot from working with him."

Kurt collapsed on top of his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Your first run-through is tomorrow."

"That's right. Then dress rehearsal on Thursday, performance on Saturday." Kurt could hear Asher's sigh. "And then… that's it. Back home."

As Asher reached out and turned off the light, Kurt thought about his revelation, that some people probably had nobody who really accepted them for who they were. It hurt his heart entirely too much to think Asher might be one of those people.

"Would you come up to Lima sometime?" he asked into the dark. "Just, to hang out? I'd love to introduce you to my other friends."

There was a pause, and then Asher said, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, yeah, definitely."

"Or I could come to Dalton. If that wouldn't be too weird."

"It wouldn't be too weird, Kurt." Now Kurt could hear him smiling. "It would be nice."

That, instead of Chris, was the last thing Kurt thought about before he fell asleep on top of his bed, still dressed.

When Kurt and Asher arrived at breakfast the next day, most of the performers from Romeo & Juliet weren't there, but Noah was. He was flipping through a well-tabbed script and frowning.

"Did you already eat?" Kurt asked, noting the empty space on the table in front of him.

"Breakfast plus fencing equals puking," Noah replied, without looking up. A moment later, he reached out and rested an absent hand on Kurt's butt.

Bethany arrived a few minutes later, yawning and wearing her glasses, but she was otherwise her usual perky self.

"Okay," said Kurt, nudging Noah. "I'm ready for my notes now, Mr. Director."

"Oh, we get to give you feedback?" Bethany seemed delighted by this. "Then I will suggest that Julian should be doing the balcony scene with no shirt. Pajama pants only."

"No," said Kurt firmly.

"Why not? He's on his own balcony, in his empty yard. He doesn't think anybody's watching."

"Except there will be hundreds of people watching." He stirred his coffee. "I really don't feel comfortable being half-naked on stage."

"But you do feel comfortable making out with Puck wearing a pirate costume?" She held up her hands when he glared at her. "Fine, fine. It was only an idea. I do have one more thought."

Noah looked annoyed, but Kurt nodded. "Go ahead?"

"I don't think you're really conveying what Julian wants in the balcony scene. I know he does eventually say marriage, but it takes a while for that to come up. I think it's not that he doesn't want sex, it's that he's trying to avoid being required to marry a woman. He's kind of using Romeo to get him out of the deal with Alice. He's saying—"

Noah snickered suddenly, cutting her off.

"What?" said Kurt curiously, grinning.

"Julian's saying, if you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it."

Kurt laughed loud enough that half the cafeteria turned to stare at them. "Oh my god. I am not dancing Single Ladies while performing Shakespeare."

"No, no, I'm not saying—but you could allude to it, right? The hand, the ring, a little hip rocking…" Bethany smiled as Kurt laughed harder. "Come on, that would be perfect."

"Remind me to tell you some other time exactly why that would be a terrible idea." Kurt sighed when Asher looked extra curious. "And you too, Mr. Nosy. Now—Noah, exactly what are you trying to get out of that script?"

Noah turned to him, scowling. For a second, Kurt expected him to snap at him. But when he opened his mouth, he just said mildly, "I was reading Trinity's blocking notes and saying them back to myself in my head. To help them make sense."

Kurt decided the very last thing Noah needed was somebody making a fuss about that remarkable statement, but it was hard to resist. He touched the script. "Would it be faster if I read them aloud, and then you said them back to me?"

Noah definitely looked outraged at that suggestion, but Kurt gave him a few moments to consider it, and finally he nodded. "Yeah. That would be a lot faster."

They finished their breakfast quickly, Asher and Noah discussing specifics for Earnest. There was an easy, understated energy between the two of them that made Kurt smile. When Asher added, "I'll keep out of the room from three-thirty until six, so you guys can be alone," Noah didn't even blink.

"Everybody else slept in this morning, I guess," said Kurt to Noah on their way to the little theater for fencing.

"Looks like. I can never sleep during production week."

"The, um. The script?"

He was trying to be gentle about it, hoping Noah wouldn't fly off the handle, but Noah just sighed and passed it to him. "Here."

"Thanks for letting me help."

He watched Noah take that in, nod, and keep going. Again, it felt like an achievement.

"Is… that's new? The way you didn't freak out about reading?"

"I am freaking out." Noah kept his eyes on the path ahead. "I'm acting like somebody who's not."

Kurt considered that, then shook his head. "No, it's not the same. If you were acting, you'd be a lot more self-assured. This feels… honest."

Noah shrugged. "Then I guess I'm a pretty good actor."

That felt like a wholly unsatisfactory answer, and one that left more questions than answers in Kurt's head, but he decided not to press Noah for more.

It was wonderful to be there to watch while Noah internalized the blocking and put it together with the dialogue. Noah muttered to himself as he danced through the steps: "Draw, Benvolio; beat down their—downstage three—Gentlemen, for shame, back two, forbear this outrage! Circle around, the prince expressly hath—around Mercutio—forbidden bandying in Verona streets. Hands up, Hold, Tybalt! To the right three, good Mercutio, stabs Tybalt, come around, catch him." He nodded to himself. "Okay. This time can you read just the blocking, while I do it again?"

It took a ridiculously short amount of time before Noah could do the whole thing at tempo without any mistakes. Kurt told himself it was partly due to Noah's memory—which had to be something like photographic, or whatever it was called when you could immediately remember what you heard—and partly due to his dance training and body awareness and athleticism. But really, what it seemed like to Kurt, watching him do it, was magic.

"I know you have to get to class," said Noah, mopping his brow with his shirt and tossing it to the side, "but do you think you could stay for just a little of the fencing? In case I forget something?"

"You're not going to forget anything," Kurt said, laughing. "But I'll stay for moral support. And to watch you fence without your shirt on."

Noah grinned. "It sure makes it easier when I hear you say stuff like that."

"Makes what easier?"

He gestured at the door. "Dealing with those fuckers."

Kurt turned to see Teresa, Curtis, and an assortment of their friends, whispering to one another outside the doorway. They moved on as soon as they saw Kurt, but their expressions were spiteful and suspicious and all too familiar.

"Like Karofsky," Kurt whispered.

"No, like me," said Noah. He swung his arms, stretching, and bounced on his toes. "Believe me, I've been in their place. I know how they think. I just can't always stay focused when they're there. So… thanks for the ego boost."

Kurt stayed long enough to drink in the sight of Noah's strong, graceful body going through the steps while holding a foil, but he couldn't stop thinking about the group of kids who'd been watching them from the door. Did he need to worry about them? Probably not; Noah could take care of himself. Except maybe that was the whole reason to be worried.

He felt useless all through morning classes, but neither his stage makeup teacher nor his dance instructor seemed to be expecting much of the campers in Bryce's productions. Both suggested they spend some time outside, although Kurt was not inclined to do so. He mostly yawned and distracted himself with daydreams of his scheduled siesta with Noah.

On his way to class from lunch, he found himself walking down the path in front of Teresa and Ian. He slowed down gradually, until they had no choice but to catch up with him, at which point Kurt turned toward Ian.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Okay," said Ian warily.

"A real question, not a trick. What do you think Puck did? On Monday, with Chris?"

Ian looked at Teresa, who shook her head.

"I'm legitimately trying to figure it out," Kurt added.

Ian frowned. "Why don't you ask him?"

"You don't think I've tried? He's not telling me."

"And you don't think that's suspicious?" Teresa said.

"I know he was with me all night, and he got a text from Chris in the morning, and I think another one at breakfast."

"Why don't you look at his text history, then?"

Kurt shook his head. "I—I can't do that."

"Why not? Because you don't think he's capable of doing something terrible?"

Kurt shook his head again, but he didn't say anything.

"Kurt," Teresa said, sounding concerned. "Did he… ever hit you?"

"No!" he shouted. He stopped where he was, holding out a hand, but he wasn't quite sure what he was trying to do. "No. He wouldn't." He just threw me into dumpsters and terrorized me, but that was before we had sex. Kind of.

"I really think you need to talk to somebody." Teresa put a hand on his shoulder, and when he pulled away, she sighed. "I know it's hard when you care about somebody who's abusive, but… Kurt, you really can't trust him."

I do trust him. He looked at the ground. Don't I?

"I'll do it," Ian said. "If you can get me his phone. It's either that, or Ms. Paige gets it from him." He looked disgusted. "I seriously don't know why they haven't kicked him out already. He's a criminal."

"It's not like that," Kurt whispered.

They gave him one more sympathetic glance before leaving him there on the path. It was all he could do to continue on to class, but somehow he managed it.

I'm a pretty good actor, Noah told him. It was true. Would Kurt really know if he was telling the truth or not? Was there any way he could, without evidence?

"No," he said aloud. He wasn't going to—to spy on Noah.

Noah was absent from masterclass again, but Bryce was there, looking as composed as ever. He put them through some acting exercises, but then he invited them to stop and sit down in the circle of chairs.

"What was the very first theater production you ever witnessed?"

"Do movies count?" asked Bethany.

"In this instance, no. Live theater, witnessed by you."

Kurt thought about that word, witnessed. "It wasn't very good," he told Bryce.

"Did that matter to you?"

"Not really. It was a local production of Annie Get Your Gun. I was six. I think I played cowgirls for the rest of the summer after that."

Bryce nodded. "You achieved the power to transform into someone else. Perhaps movies will evoke that potential, but it is theater that manifests it."

"My parents took me to see Into the Woods when I was five," said Curtis. "I remember the witch scared the crap out of me."

"You never forgot it," Bryce said. "You probably never will. Impressions such as those are stored in a nearly indelible location in the brain."

"I did performances in my basement with my sister," said Grace. "We had a curtain made out of a sheet. But my mom's an actress. I've been going to her shows since before I can remember. I always knew what was possible."

"What about reading a play?" Kurt asked. "Or poetry? I mean, you can act with your voice, right?"

"One might argue the dynamic energy between two or more people is what makes a production come alive. But I would claim it's not the people performing who cause it to happen. It's being seen by the audience. Those of you in this week's productions have thus far provided the audience for one another. In four days, that experience will be magnified a hundredfold." Bryce smiled at Kurt. "They will see far more than your roles. Rosalind Russell claimed that acting is nothing more than standing up naked and turning around very slowly."

"What was the first performance you ever saw?" Ian asked Bryce.

"That would be Paint Your Wagon, at the Shubert Theater in 1952. It is a show I have never performed." He smiled at Curtis. "But I have never forgotten it." Then he turned his gaze on the entire room. "Now, another essential question. How many of you are still not certain you are good enough to perform?"

They all looked at one another. Slowly, they all raised their hands—including Bryce. They laughed.

"I think it's not even that I worry about being good enough?" said Asher. "It's, like… I'm not sure I'm worthy of it. It feels like hubris, to think I could justify taking up that much of somebody else's attention and time."

"And yet even bad theater has a profound effect, as you have heard here today," said Bryce. "You can expect that anyone who comes to see you will have opinions, but even if they don't like the ways in which your production changed them, they will come out changed."

"Aaron said that," Kurt said. They all looked at him, and he stammered, "I mean, Mr. Puckerman. Puck's father. He said… it's the actors' job to make the audience forget it's pretend. It's like a journey, and the stage is the portal."

Bryce looked amused. "I'm glad to hear he remembers the words of his teacher from so long ago. And not at all surprised. Aaron's memory is not unlike that of his son's."

As he walked slowly back to Laura Keane, Kurt thought about Noah's father, about all the productions Noah had done with him as a child, and all the shows Aaron himself had performed in, depicted on the Dayton Opera House website. He eyed the senior campers walking back beside him. It had been easy to think of them at the beginning of the summer as privileged rich kids who'd grown up in theater, but now… it just wasn't that simple.

"I wonder what it would be like to see Earnest performed, professionally," Asher said thoughtfully. "Now that I've really studied it. Somebody else saying those lines, with different inflections, different pacing… I don't know if it would be better or worse."

"Back in eighth grade, Puck took me to see Twelfth Night at the Dayton Opera House, where his dad works. Bryce did Twelfth Night with him, here, the summer before that. Puck told me it meant more, watching it after he knew it inside and out."

"Eighth grade." Asher shook his head. "Bryce cast Noah in senior productions when he was fourteen? Thirteen? No wonder everybody hates him." Then he paused, watching Kurt blanch, and added, "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, no," Kurt sighed. "You did. And while it might be true certain upperclassmen hate him for swiping parts they wish they were good enough to play, most people hate him for being a bully."

"He's a lot of things, Kurt. He's not just one thing."

Kurt nodded. "I was just thinking that. That none of us are just one thing. We're all… multifaceted. The thing you see depends on where you're standing."

"It sounds like you're getting some perspective." Asher gave him an encouraging smile. "See you at dinner."

Kurt wondered if he should text Noah, but when he arrived at his room, Noah was already there, drenched in sweat and leaning against the wall. He warded Kurt off with a hand.

"I've been practicing choreography for two hours. You really don't want to touch me right now."

"I really don't," Kurt agreed. He opened the door and let Noah in. "You can shower first."

There was no question of being able to do that together, given the size of the tiny bathrooms. Kurt closed the blinds and pulled back the blankets on the bed. When Noah emerged from the bathroom, Kurt gestured, and Noah practically collapsed onto the sheets.

"I'm not gonna be able to stay awake," he mumbled.

"I didn't expect you to." Kurt switched off the lights. "Sweet dreams."

Noah was indeed snoring when Kurt emerged from his own shower, but he stirred when Kurt climbed into bed naked beside him. He gazed at Kurt silently through half-lidded eyes.

"See something you like?" Kurt murmured.

Noah chuckled. "Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze."

"I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I," Kurt finished Mercutio's line, with a supercilious sneer.

"Well, peace be with you, sir." Noah leaned in for a kiss. "Here comes my man."

Kurt felt his insides twist, as he did every time Noah came within kissing distance. Something about having him that close made it impossible for him to keep his equilibrium.

"You can go back to sleep," Kurt said after a moment. "I might join you. Door is locked, alarm is set. We won't miss dinner."

Noah wound him into his arms, holding him in the position of the big spoon. It felt about as good as any set of sensations Kurt could imagine.

"Am I your man?" he asked softly.

"You see anybody else auditioning for that position?" Noah held him tighter.

"I know it's been a weird couple of days, and… well, things aren't exactly perfect between us…"

"Kurt." Now he sounded aggravated. "I can't deal with talking right now."

"No, I know, I just need to tell you—"

"Please. Don't. The only thing you have to do this week is wrap up this one show. I have to wrap up two of them. And trust me, Earnest is just as intense as Romeo & Juliet."

"You're saying we're not going to talk about anything until the show is over?"

He sighed. "Kurt…"

"You want me to keep all of this inside?" Kurt demanded over his shoulder.

"No. I don't." He exhaled sharply. "I'm not sure you want to know what I do want you to do."

"What do you—?" Kurt turned around, glaring at him. Then he broke out of Noah's embrace entirely and used all four of his limbs to pin Noah beneath him. "You can't just say things like that! Not if you're not going to tell me—"

Noah reached up with both hands, grasped Kurt's face, and kissed him, hard. It was more force than he'd used all summer, but Kurt met him with equal fervor.

So much for falling asleep, Kurt thought, through the haze of desire that washed over him. But it wasn't until Noah grabbed Kurt's hand and placed the bottle of lube into it that Kurt realized what that desperation in Noah's eyes meant.

"Do it," Noah said, his words clipped. "Come on."

"Do what, Noah?" He shifted down between his legs and helped him spread wider, watching in approval as Noah's back arched into his touch. His fingers scissored the lube into him, feeling each pulse of the blood rushing beneath his skin. "What could you possibly want from me?"

Noah's groan gave him a truly wicked thrill. Even before he said the words, Kurt was crouching over him, stroking him. "Fuck me, god, Kurt."

"You really think I'm going to do that? Without a condom? For all you know, I could have been fooling around with half the Warblers this spring."

Noah was scarcely paying attention to his surroundings, much less Kurt's teasing. He reached out and grasped Kurt's hips, pulling him in close. "Need this… need you."

Of course he could have said no. He could have, and it would have been smarter and safer and more responsible, but considering the frame of mind Kurt was in, he wasn't about to deny either of them what they wanted. Without words, he knelt between Noah's thighs.

Noah's eyes were closed as Kurt worked his way inside him, and his lips made words like yeah, and the breathy noises he made were nothing but encouraging. The logistics of this act had never felt simple, and it had been long enough since they'd done it that Kurt felt anxious about doing something wrong, but Noah clearly wasn't worried about any of that. The more Kurt gave him, the more Noah relaxed, and the more complete his breath flowed in and out of him.

The sensation and heat of Noah around him was definitely more intense, almost more than Kurt could handle. He leaned over Noah and buried his face into his neck, breathing in his clean skin, his fingertips digging into Noah's forearms as he held them down.

He could feel the slick wetness between them, leaking out of Noah, but he was still hard. Kurt flexed his grip on Noah's arms.

"You want your hand back? To touch yourself?"

Noah squirmed a little, but he shook his head. "Just—harder."

Harder. With dizzy abandon, Kurt gave up trying to sustain their activity and set himself the task of meeting Noah's request. Noah let out a series of increasingly urgent sounds that Kurt first tried to shush, then stop with a kiss, but the rhythm of their bodies made that impossible.

"Would you shut up?" Kurt said at last. "We're going to get in trouble."

"You should pull out." Noah's breathing was ragged. "To finish."

"Oh god." Kurt let go, resting his hands briefly on Noah's chest. "Is—is that what you want?"

"No."

He took a deep breath. "Well, then… I'm not going to." He slid his hands down to grip Noah's hips. "I'm not going to stop."

Noah's voice broke in into a gasp, his eyes screwed tight. "Fuck."

As Noah twitched and pulsed onto his stomach, Kurt felt his own body respond in kind, inside Noah. He stayed true to his word, continuing to thrust into him, until it became physically impossible and he slid out.

For a moment, Kurt wondered if Noah was going to push him away. Kurt hovered over him, watching his guarded face, until eventually he crouched back onto shaking knees. But then Noah did reach for him, and Kurt decided he could ignore the sticky mess of their bodies, at least long enough to wrap him up and hold him.

"That was really stupid," Kurt whispered. He kissed the corner of Noah's mouth, tasting the salt of his tears. "And so, so hot."

"Yeah." Noah turned toward him with a sigh. "Not sorry."

"I wish you would have just told me what you wanted instead of—I don't know, tricking me into doing it."

"You never would have."

"Maybe? I mean…" Kurt sighed reproachfully, but he couldn't find it in him to be angry when he felt so good. "You don't think you would have been willing if I told you, I want you to hold me down and do me bare, as hard as you can?"

"Uh—" Noah let out a startled laugh. "You think you'd ever tell me that?"

"I might. Now that I know how good it felt, doing it to you."

This time when he kissed Noah, Noah kissed him back.

Kurt went to bed early that night and slept right through until morning. He didn't even wake up when Asher returned that night, after the Earnest run-through, but in the morning, he heard a groan that made him sit up and look suspiciously across the room at Asher's bed.

"Are you okay?" he said softly, as Asher stirred.

"Bad dream," he replied blearily. "Ugh."

"For a minute, I thought you might have somebody there with you."

Asher laughed. "Yeah, no." He slid his feet out of bed and rested them on the floor, flexing his toes. "This camp is already emotionally complicated enough without adding sex on top of it."

"How did it go last night?"

"Surprisingly well. Trinity's Cecily is hilarious. And Grace is so good as Bracknell; you're going to love her."

Kurt tilted his head. "Do you… want to talk about the dream?"

"Oh. Um, it was about Chris." He made a face. "I forgot most of it already."

"Is that code for I don't really want to talk about it, or—?"

Asher sighed. "I think I'm having a hard time hearing the rumors about Chris and also working directly with the person who's supposed to have perpetrated them."

He nodded slowly. "Meaning Puck."

"Yeah." Asher eyed him. "I'm not sure how rational you're able to be about him."

"Well, considering I've broken up and gotten back together with him about fifteen times since we started dating, that's a reasonable question." He took a deep breath. "Can I tell you why I don't think he did… what people say he did to Chris?" Asher nodded. "It's not because he's not a jerk sometimes. It's because when he is, he's… a certain way about it. He stops trusting me, stops letting me help. Letting me in. And he's not doing that right now. He's scared, but it's not about Chris, or at least I don't think it is." Kurt looked at the floor. "He still won't tell me what happened, though."

Asher nodded silently. They didn't speak for several minutes while Asher did his morning yoga, but when Kurt was finishing getting dressed, Asher approached him again.

"You know how Bryce said he cast us in the roles he did because the characters were dealing with their own fears, and so were we?" He smoothed his t-shirt across his chest in what Kurt had come to recognize as a nervous gesture. "I dreamed that Chris discovered I'm trans, and he gave me a hard time about it. And I beat him up for it."

"Oh." Kurt swallowed. "I really can't imagine you ever doing that to anybody."

"No, I never have. I've thought about it, though. And even though Chris was never anything but nice to me, I never talked to him about me being trans. Or Puck, or any of the other guys here, except you." He cast a troubled look at the floor. "And now, it's too late. I can't tell Chris, and I'm not sure I trust Puck enough. I'm kind of disappointed in myself for not confronting that fear."

"Going home this summer, to your town. Is that going to be… okay?"

Asher gave him a quick smile. "I'll be all right. Maybe this experience will help me to be a little more open at Dalton this year. I might as well make that zero-tolerance policy work for me while I've got it."

The dining room was even quieter than it had been the morning before, but they heard Noah's angry voice before they arrived. Asher gave Kurt an uneasy look.

Ian, Curtis, and Harriet were surrounding him where he stood beside the drink station. Curtis was saying something under his breath.

"You think I don't have anything better to do?" Noah snapped.

"Because we deserve some answers." Ian sounded so reasonable by comparison, but it didn't slow Kurt's racing heart.

"I don't understand why you don't just tell everybody the truth," Curtis added. "They all think you did it. Why not make it easier on yourself?"

"Hey," Kurt called. Only Harriet bothered to turn and look at him. Curtis reached out a hand to touch Noah's shoulder, and Noah slapped it away. "Stop it! Can't you leave him alone?"

"I don't believe this," muttered Ian. He shot Kurt an incredulous glare before stalking away. As the others dispersed, Noah pushed through them toward the door.

"Let him go," Asher said to Kurt, as he turned to follow him. "Give him a minute. Have some breakfast."

Kurt managed to eat a few bites of cereal and a banana. Noah didn't return, but Kurt didn't really expect him to.

Even though they were present in the same morning classes on stage makeup and ballroom dance, Kurt felt like he saw very little of Noah. He ate almost nothing at lunch. They sat together during masterclass, but Noah's attention was inward, and after he gave distracted answers to two or three questions, Bryce stopped asking him anything.

"At least the others stopped bothering you," Kurt said to Noah on their way back to Laura Keane that afternoon.

Noah nodded. At one point he looked like he might want to say something, but then he fell silent again.

Kurt took his hand. "Do you… want to do the same thing we did yesterday, in my room?"

Noah looked startled. He glanced at Kurt, just for a moment, then at their joined hands before nodding again.

"I know you don't really want to talk about it," said Kurt. "I won't make you. I just don't want you to think you're forcing me into anything here."

"Yeah," Noah muttered, grimacing. "Kurt, let me see if I can make this clear. Everywhere but here, I have two skill sets that give me control over my stupid little life: fear, and sex. Here, I've also got acting. Except right now, everybody really, really hates that I'm a good actor. I can't use fear, because if I get into a fight with anybody, they'll kick me out, and chances are I'll go back to juvie. The only person I'm having sex with is you, and most of the time, what I want makes me feel like shit. That's where I am. Got it? Is that enough talking for you?"

"It makes you feel like shit?" Kurt repeated. He tried not to let Noah's barrage of words intimidate him. "So why do you want to do it?"

"I feel like shit for wanting it."

He was keeping his voice low, but it was clear exactly how worked up he was. Everyone who walked past them on the path shot Kurt a look of concern, like they were ready to intervene at any moment. Kurt glared back at every one of them.

He let Noah precede him up the stairs, but the minute Kurt had the door to his room unlocked, he pushed Noah up against the wall, kissing him hard enough to bruise his lips. Somehow he managed to kick the door closed without knocking both of them over.

"I love that you want me like that," Kurt told him. "I love that you want that, from me. I love that you're so strong and smart and funny and talented and you still need me, I'm sorry you hate it, because—god, it really turns me on."

He maneuvered Noah across the room by stages, stripping off Noah's clothes as he went. With every kiss, every shove, he could feel Noah lose it a little bit more, until by the end he had Noah on the bed underneath him, pliable and quivering and hard enough for Kurt to wonder if he might legitimately be uncomfortable. The whole time, part of him wanted to ask are you sure this is what you want, but another part of him knew that would just cause Noah more pain—and an even more embarrassing third part had already decided he didn't care if Noah did change his mind, that he was just going to take what he wanted.

He tugged impatiently at the buttons on his own shirt. "Turn over."

Even as he shifted onto his hands and knees, Noah shot Kurt a look. "Somebody's liking this a little too much."

"I promise I won't get cocky," Kurt said coolly. He knelt behind Noah and reached around to stroke him, reveling in the way Noah swore and thrust forward into his hand.

That was a lie. It was far too late for cocky; Kurt was heading right for intoxicated. He was drunk on the power Noah had handed to him. It buzzed in his chest as he leaned over the knotted muscles of Noah's back, whispering into his ear. He told Noah all the things he wanted to do to him, all the edgy and vaguely distasteful things he had trouble considering under most circumstances, but which, at the moment, sounded amazing.

Luckily Noah's delicious noises seemed to indicate they sounded amazing, too. But that wasn't a surprise. Noah had always been open to trying anything Kurt had ever been curious about. He'd never pushed him to do anything he didn't want to do. He'd always been patient, and encouraging and—

"Hey," Noah said, when Kurt started sniffling. He looked over his shoulder in concern. "Are you okay? What's the matter?"

"It's nothing," Kurt said quickly, "I'm just—thinking about you. Please, I don't want to stop."

But Noah had already moved out from under him, shifting on the bed to make room for Kurt to sit beside him. He put his arms around him as Kurt gave up and sobbed into his arms.

"I know I'm a fucking mess, babe," said Noah, with gentle humor, "but I'm totally not worth crying over."

Kurt scrubbed at his face. "I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to ruin this."

"You didn't ruin anything." Noah touched his wet cheek. "C'mon. Look at me. I'm still here. We've got time. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Kurt insisted. The fact that he was still crying wasn't lending much credence to his statement, but Noah seemed to accept it anyway. "Really, I was just feeling… so lucky. To be doing this with you. It's always been so good, and you're…" He sniffed, smiling at Noah's inquisitive face. "You're so good."

Noah actually looked a little flustered. "You're freaking out because… you think I'm so good?"

Kurt laughed into his neck, then kissed his way up his chin until he found Noah's mouth. Their momentum and arousal took the kiss further than he'd intended, coupled with a healthy dose of groping, but eventually Kurt was able to respond.

"I'm not freaking out," he promised. "But… can we just stay right here? I don't think my ego can survive another episode of bursting into tears while talking dirty to you."

Noah didn't even look disappointed. "I bet your ego can take just about anything. Seriously. You're fearless."

"No. No." Kurt clung to him, shaking his head. "I'm afraid all the time. I feel like I keep making mistakes. I'm just… stumbling through the dark, failing at everything."

"Isn't that what being fearless means? God, Kurt." Noah drew him in closer. "When we started doing this stuff together, every minute we were fooling around, I felt like the biggest fraud. I was terrified you were going to notice I was, like, actually gay."

Kurt ran his fingertips along Noah's collarbone. "You thought that would be a surprise?"

"I know, it's crazy. Somehow in my brain I equated that with loser." He sighed. "I think I still do, most of the time. All I wanted to do was impress you. It took me a while to get to the point where I noticed you actually liked me best when I was honest."

"But you were honest with me all the time, right from the beginning," Kurt protested. "When I was tutoring you in Lit & Comp, reading all those books together, and later talking about being an actor? You were so… vulnerable."

"That's different than being honest about sex, though."

Kurt looked at him in confusion. "You… weren't being honest with me about sex?"

"Not for a while. At the beginning I could only do it as long as it was a performance. Like how I always was with girls. It was easy if I made it about them." He brushed errant strands of hair off Kurt's forehead. "Not if it was about what I wanted."

Kurt felt a sudden chill. Noah's own words echoed back to him: Then I must be a pretty good actor.

"Do you mean," he said, struggling to get the words out, "all that time, you were only pretending to want the things you said you wanted?"

"No, I—it wasn't like that. I don't mean I didn't want them." Now Noah looked hurt. "Don't be like that. You know I never wanted—"

"Yes, you keep saying that. You never wanted to be gay. You'd change it in a heartbeat if you could."

Kurt realized, far too late, that his voice was coming out in Noah's cadences, a grotesque, inadequate parody of his speech patterns.

Noah stared at him, his face expressionless. Then he sat back slowly, removing his hands from Kurt's body.

"I think I'd better go."

Kurt watched him gather up his clothes, scattered across the floor. In the time it took him to muster an apology, Noah was already fastening his jeans.

"I'll see you at dinner, Kurt."

Kurt closed his eyes as the door shut behind him.