Blaine and Santana don't have to put in as much work as everyone else on Friday morning. When they arrive at school, it's surprising to see everything is black and white again; only on closer inspection is it visible that some students' hair is brown or auburn rather than black, some skin has been painted over with makeup, and the majority of the clothes have had to be dug out from the back of closets, forgotten in favour of brighter garments.

'Oh my god. They've gone full Stepford,' Santana mutters to Blaine. With only one exception, every student has a fake smile plastered over their face, eyes wide and full of mischief, but they are all unmistakably following the rules. No colours. No books. No public displays of affection, until Santana runs over to the one person who isn't managing to keep up the cheery façade.

'Brittany? Are you okay?'

Brittany's voice trembles as she says 'I don't like this, Santana. This doesn't feel good.'

Santana manages to catch a tear with her fingertip before the makeup can smudge.

'It's only one day. It's not even the whole day, remember? Tonight, you'll be so full of colour you'll forget you ever had to do this.' She tugs a lock of hair loose from Brittany's ponytail to show her the blonde strands. 'See this?'

Brittany nods. 'Yeah,' she mumbles with a sniff.

'Every time it feels like too much today, just look at this and remember that maybe right now he can control some things, the things on the outside, but there's so much more that he can't do anything about.' She gently tucks the hair behind Brittany's ear. 'I know the colour feels like everything, but the feeling it gave you hasn't gone anywhere.' She looks around to make sure nobody can see before kissing her cheek. 'Just hold on for today. I'll be here the whole time.'

Brittany nods again, a smile emerging. She takes a deep breath. 'Okay. Just one day.'

'It'll be worth it. I promise. And hey – you still think I'm pretty in black and white, right?'

Her smile gets a lot bigger. 'The prettiest in the whole world.'

Santana laughs. 'We can be prettiest together. Come on, we've got one more day of boredom and cheesiness to survive, then the fun begins. Real fun.'

Philips strides out to the front of the school, a sinister grin on his face as he surveys the students. As much as he would have liked to make an example of someone, give some kid the third degree in front of everyone else to show how serious he is, he's still pleased to see that no rules are being broken. Grey skin, grey clothes, and a pleasant, calm atmosphere, just as he planned. A handful smile at him as they walk inside – politely? Submissively? He hopes it's the latter – and he stops Blaine and Santana.

'Good morning, you two. How are we feeling this morning?'

'Excellent, thank you, Mr Philips,' Blaine says, staring him dead in the eye. 'Much better than yesterday, now that everyone looks exactly the same.'

'Couldn't agree more,' Santana adds. 'Thank heavens we don't have to worry about any of that awful creativity now.'

He looks from one to the other for a moment. It could be denial or just blind arrogance, but he seems to buy it. Apparently satisfied, he nods. 'Very good. On your way.'

They fist-bump as they walk away.

The air is electric all day. The teachers go through the motions every lesson, hopeless liars since they've never had to do it before.

'Yes, and as we all know,' Miss Robinson says, looking ready to start giggling, 'there is nothing outside of the town. Our little streets and the school and the diner-' she genuinely has to bite her lip so she won't crack up. 'Just the same as always.'

Miss Mendoza isn't any more restrained.

'So kids, today, just like any other day, we're going to copy out meaningless sentences in pretty writing instead of reading books that could open your eyes to new worlds, and using your imaginations to create your own masterpieces. No ideas in here. Not one.'

Philips glances in and she smiles so sweetly at him, he tells himself he doesn't need to go in. Really, he just can't quite muster the courage to face her.

Lunchtime is spooky. Desperate not to give anything away, nobody says a word throughout, smiling too sweetly and making too many enthusiastic 'mmm' noises over their food. At the end of the day, they stroll ever so casually until they're sure they can't be seen from school, at which point they break out into a full run to the diner to grab their supplies and props for tonight. Brittany scrubs at her face with her sleeve, revealing rosy cheeks and a broad smile.

'How do I look?' she asks Santana.

'You look like you again.'

They stop running for just long enough to kiss until her lips are as flushed as her cheeks.

Back home, Santana and Blaine are ready to leave, their outfits bulky and their skin still grey but tingling with excitement.

'We're really doing this, huh?'

'Come on,' she says, 'You know that jackass deserves it.'

'Oh, I know that. But this could really be it. Tonight we might just, I don't know, disappear from this place.'

'Do we have to have this conversation right now? You know we don't have a choice, B. For all we know, people have been looking for us this whole time. Your parents would be out of their minds if anything happened to you.'

He knows that – he's always known. They're never been ambiguous about how much he means to them. And he knows how much Santana misses her sister. But still.

'What if we don't get to say goodbye?'

She puts her arm through his for a moment. 'Then we'll be sad. And we'll have to figure out how to be happy without them. It's not like he doesn't know how you feel. They all know.'

As if by magic, their parents come in, dressed to the nines – her in a light blue dress, him in a matching tie and a navy suit.

'Know what, sweetie?'

They look at Mom and Dad, then at each other, before running to grab them into a hug, one parent each. Blaine sniffs over his mother's shoulder.

'Well, you two,' Dad says, 'I have to say, I really thought you'd be a little more excited. You both look miserable. The world isn't ending, remember?'

Mom squeezes Blaine's hand, her eyes bright. 'It's all just beginning.'

He nods and smiles – that's the best thing she could've said to him. Leaving them all behind isn't so scary if they can change the town into something bigger and better than it was when they arrived.

'You're both all set for tonight?' Dad asks. 'Is there anything else you need us to do?'

'Nope,' Santana answers, 'Running interference on Philips until things get started, then just sit back and watch.'

He grins. 'We are so proud of everything you two have done. I hope you know that.'

Santana freezes for a moment. For the first time, she can see her real father in him. 'Yeah, Dad. We know.'

'Well, we need to get going!' Mom says, ushering them out. 'Let's go, Titans!'

Philips is on the basketball court, smugly welcoming various townspeople to the game. He's glad to see all students are colourless, even if a few parents aren't. He knows he can't control them, but it doesn't matter as much as securing his power in the school. They'll win the game in an orderly fashion, and it'll show that his way is the right way. The only way.

The Andersons are overly polite, considering last night. Mr Anderson pointedly ignores the hand Philips offers him, but they're both overflowing with small talk about the basketball team, the cheerleaders, skirting around the bigger goings on in the town. Normally he would be somewhere behind the scenes making sure everyone is ready to start on time, but each time he manages to escape two parents, two more take their place, eagerly chatting away to him. He isn't concerned; if anything, he's just relieved. He was convinced they would all be a lot more troublesome after yesterday, but it seems he is the man of the moment.

He trusts the kids to know that any funny business will have serious consequences. Surely nobody would dare to go against the rest of the crowd now, right?

Everyone settles into their seats at 6:59, the crowd buzzing as usual. Philips sits front and centre on one of the benches. He takes a few deep breaths. This is all going to be totally normal.

There isn't much space between the locker rooms and the gym, but it's rammed with students as Blaine and Santana stand on a bench to address them all one final time. Tina's skin has almost gone grey again just from nerves. Finn looks ready to throw up.

'Okay, you're all so ready for this,' Santana says with a smile, 'more ready than you think. It'll take a lot more than one puny little man to stop us now.'

They give the quietest cheer they can manage. Kurt is just staring at Blaine. He's smiling, but his face is still somehow serious.

'You're so powerful whether we're here or not. We can't tell you how proud we are of far you've all come,' Blaine says, looking at Kurt when he adds, 'You don't even really need us here anymore. You've got this.'

Kurt nods. None of them know how it's going to happen, but they all know that even though so much is about to change and start all over again, something else is close to ending. But they can't dwell on it now. It's 6:59, and they can just about see everyone shuffling to their seats, countless women spreading their wide skirts over the various items stashed underneath the benches.

The cheerleaders go out first. Philips thinks something about them looks different, the uniforms not fitting right, but he tries to brush it off. They're doing a completely appropriate routine, side-stepping, chanting something about school spirit, and he nods, satisfied. Although, one's missing. The blonde girl. And their skin – it's not grey. He's about to get up and tell them to stop, when the entire gym plunges into darkness.

There's quiet for a moment, then some hushed whispers, then the marching band starts up, the drums and trumpets pumping out a rhythm that infuriates Philips. He did not approve any of this. A voice calls out over the crowd through the speakers.

'Students, faculty, parents, and the good people of the great town of Lima, are you ready for the biggest game of your life?' Puckerman. He's dead the second Philips can get his hands on him. 'Let me hear you make some noise!'

The lights come back on, the girls have all removed their grey uniforms to reveal bursts of red and white underneath. The basketball players run out, dribbling orange basketballs which they then hurl at the hoops, everyone missing completely, then whipping off their outer layer of clothing to expose yet more red. All the visiting team can do is sit and stare with their mouths hanging open. Brittany appears from the sidelines, not only wearing the same bright red uniform as the other girls, but doing cartwheels and flips and landing in a split centre stage.

Santana's boss, with some help from a few dads, has rigged the jukebox up to the school speakers and he presses B7 as planned – The Twist starts to blare out and the crowd goes wild. Right on cue, every audience member pulls a sign out from under their seat, in an array of colours, smothered with glitter, like a class of kindergartners has been let loose in a craft store. Some are innocent enough, like 'Go Titans!' and 'Titan Pride!' but others are a little more on the nose.

'Colour = LIFE'

'LET US HUG' (Finn's idea)

And Santana's favourite:

'Black and white, time to fight!'

Everyone is cheering. Sam and Mike wheel in a platform, which Mercedes and Rachel step onto, microphones in hand, singing along to the music to get the crowd going even more. The boys get the other team up off the benches to join in – they're all just dribbling the balls, missing every shot they take, dancing like idiots to the music, and as soon as the new guys join in their uniforms turn blue. However anyone could feel about colour, it undeniably makes it easier to differentiate between teams.

Horrified, Philips gets up, desperate to put a stop to this madness, but his shouts can't be heard. Between the music, the band, the singing, and the cheering, he's lost.

He tries to push through the throngs of people everywhere: some cheerleaders are in a pyramid while the others whoop at him and shake their pom poms in his face; the basketball teams are running around as if they've had too much sugar, the parents are deafening, but he manages to get to the jukebox and yank the plug out. He storms to Rachel and Mercedes' platform and grabs their microphones, throwing one to the floor. The squeal of feedback is enough to bring a pause to the pandemonium. Mercedes and Rachel step back, practically cowering.

'EVERYBODY. STOP. RIGHT. NOW.'

The marching band loses momentum. There are one or two more awkward beats before the noise dies down.

'Who do you all think you are? You've taken what should've been a perfectly pleasant evening and you've- you've-'

'They've had fun!' Burt yells from the stands. 'Got a problem with that?'

'You are all in so much trouble next week! This entire event is cancelled! Get out of my school this instant!'

'What is your problem?' Santana asks. 'You can't give all of us detention. You can't change the colour of our skin. You've lost. There's too many of us.'

'Listen to me, young lady. There is a certain way of doing things. Theirs is a certain way we have always done things. That's how we keep everything pleasant. That's how we make sure our town stays nice, just like it's always been.'

'No!' Kurt calls out. 'There's better things than nice! There's scary, and funny, and weird, and stupid. There's that feeling like you're about to jump off a cliff, like everything could be different in a second if you just take that one step. There's fear, and heartbreak,' he looks at Blaine, 'and there's passion. Maybe it's not always nice. Maybe nice isn't what we need. We need something different-' He points at the crowd, full of colour and excitement and still some tinges of fear, 'We need… this.'

He holds his hand out to Blaine, who takes it instantly.

'Blaine!' Puck yells, 'It's gone blue!'

Blaine looks at him, puzzled. 'What?'

Puck points at his own temple, then at Philips. The vein on his head is throbbing, and Puck's right. Blue.

Blaine lets go of Kurt for a moment and steps towards the principal.

'How are you feeling right now, Mr P?' He asks, grinning. Philips is shaking, squeezing the microphone in his hand helplessly.

'Stop it, Anderson. You are not in charge of this school. I am.'

'Are you though? Every student in this place conspired to make this happen. All those kids went out of their way to make you look stupid. There's colour everywhere. Kids have been reading books, learning about new countries, making out in broad daylight! Do you feel nice? Pleasant? Or utterly humiliated?'

'Young man-'

'What do you want to do to me right now? I'm totally undermining you in front of your staff, your students, the whole town. I bet you wish you could just strangle me. Punch me right in my smug little face. Because you know we've won and it just makes your blood boil, doesn't it?'

'YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU LITTLE-' everyone gasps, and it echoes around the gym. Philips' cheeks are bright red, as is his tie. His hair, the roots sweaty, is a light brown, and he's the last one to realise. He looks at the shocked faces in front of him, before dropping the second microphone to look at his hands. Shaking, he turns them over and back again. He looks up at Blaine again for a moment, and Blaine thinks he might actually try to strangle him, but instead he runs out of the gym.

A cheer erupts in the crowd, kids and adults all hugging and laughing and clapping. Just as the band get ready to start up again, Puck stops them.

'Everybody, listen! Wait a second…'

There's a loud bang from outside. Everyone runs out. The sun is just starting to set, and it's like nothing anyone here has ever seen before – purples and golds and pinks streaking across the sky – and everyone is at a loss for words. They take in more of their surroundings and it clicks: everything is in colour. The sky, the grass, every storefront, every bird, is vibrant and alive and stunning.

Another bang, and this time they are all there to see the huge golden explosion in the sky. Puck is looking very pleased with himself as more fireworks go off over their heads, red, blue, green, violet, each one earning an 'ooh' from the crowd beneath. Brittany wraps her arms around Santana's waist and kisses her cheek as they stare. Blaine kisses Kurt, and he gets lost in the crackles, squeals and bangs of the fireworks, certain that most of them are just his brain reacting to the boy in his arms.

Once Puck's display ends, the crowd starts to disperse. There's a whole town full of colour that they want to see, and they break off into small groups, friends, families, couples, to celebrate their victory. Mom and Dad give Blaine, Santana, Kurt and Brittany plenty of hugs and tell them they've heard there's a new place in town called a bar – they're going there with Kurt's parents to see what it's like. Blaine and Santana appreciate that they'll have space for the evening, but they both low-key hope they get to see their prim and proper parents wasted later.

Mom kisses their cheeks. 'Have a wonderful evening, you two. Make the most of the time.'

They nod. Mom and Dad's clothes aren't the only things matching now – they're both wearing the same knowing smile. None of them can tell how they understand, but they clearly do. They leave, hand in hand, and Santana takes Brittany home, while Blaine and Kurt head to the park.

'Are you sure this is what you want? We could go and see the town if you'd rather-' Brittany stops her with a kiss halfway down the garden path leading to Santana's house.

'I want to be with you. Just us for tonight. I can see the town any old time.'

Even after all the work they've done to bring colour to this place, she chooses Santana, whose skin is still grey, despite the fiery uniform. Even now, Santana can still barely comprehend someone putting her first. She kisses Brittany again, slowly, softly.

'You remember when you told me about that feeling you used to get, that you wanted to kiss someone? That you wanted to do other things to see what other feelings could happen?' Brittany nods. Santana takes her hand and leads her up to the house. 'I think maybe it's time I showed you some.'

Wide-eyed, Brittany follows her.

As soon as the front door is closed, Santana presses Brittany up against it. So far, they have kissed hands, cheeks, lips, and there has definitely been heat, but as soon as Brittany feels Santana's lips against her neck, her collarbone, she's struggling to catch her breath. Santana grins at the flush creeping up her skin, her heart thudding under her uniform.

She pulls back, making Brittany whine, but one nod at the staircase and Brittany instinctively understands, even though she's never heard of anything they're about to do. Every part of her understands that something amazing is going to happen.

They reach Santana's bedroom just as the skies outside darken, and raindrops start to tap on the windows. It's just enough to distract Brittany from the hands pressing on her back. She steps towards the window, looking frightened, grasping Santana's hand.

'What's that?'

For half a second, Santana wants to whimper at the lack of warm body against hers, but when she sees the uncertainty in Brittany's eyes, she knows she needs to take it away.

'Oh, right. You've never – it's rain. It's only water, nothing dangerous.'

Brittany steps even closer to the window, her nose pressing against the glass as she tries to get a better look. 'Will it wash the colours away?'

Santana smiles, wrapping her arms around Brittany's waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. 'No. I think those are here to stay.'

'Good. Because I actually think it's kind of pretty.'

She leans against the window, breathing mist onto the glass. Santana reaches up to draw a heart into it.

'I think you're kind of pretty.'

Brittany turns in her arms to kiss her again. 'So what do we do now?'

'Whatever you want. As much or as little as you want.'

'I definitely don't want little. What you were doing before – a lot more of that, please.'

'Bed.'

Brittany grins wickedly and does as she's told, reclining on Santana's narrow bed. Santana gently pushes one leg aside, kneeling between Brittany's thighs. 'If you ever start to feel uncomfortable,' she leans over her, stroking up her waist as she steadies herself with the other, 'just say the word.' She kisses Brittany, slowly, deeper than before, her fingertips nudging at the hem of her cheer uniform. 'If it's ever too much, I'll stop whenever you want to.'

Brittany feels heat unfurl in her belly at the glorious, warm weight of the girl now lowering herself onto her.

'If you ever stop, I'll – I'll…' she kisses Santana back, 'Okay, I don't know what I'll do, but don't even think about it.'

Brittany is crying out, back arched, toes curling while she clutches at the sheets, by the time the first rumble of thunder arrives.

The town is so much bigger and brighter that almost everyone runs off to explore the new streets, the bowling alley, the bars, but Kurt and Blaine choose the intimacy and romance of the park. Despite the sinking feeling that this is their last night together, they're determined to make it count, and as everyone else would rather see the new places, they're sure they'll have this spot, their spot, to themselves.

'Tonight was incredible,' Kurt says, his head resting on Blaine's thigh, each boy dangling one foot in the water from the deck. 'What were those things Puck set off?'

'Fireworks,' Blaine answers, stroking his hair, gazing at the emerging stars reflecting in his eyes. 'Doesn't matter where he is, Puck still has a knack for chaos.'

'You're one to talk. You made a complete idiot of our principal in front of the entire town.'

'Was it too much?'

'God, no. It was…' There's something in his face, like if he knew the word "sexy", he would say it, but he doesn't quite look comfortable with it. Blaine recognises that look from somewhere, but he can't figure it out. Maybe he's just flattering himself. 'It was incredible.'

Blaine shrugs, pretending the compliment doesn't make his heart flutter. 'It was a team effort. You were really something up there tonight. I was so proud to be with you.' He puts his hand over Kurt's and leans down to kiss him. It's different somehow. Normally, Kurt melts into him so easily, but now despite his apparent enthusiasm, his frame stiffens when Blaine touches him. He's clearly trying to hide it, but there isn't much Kurt can hide from Blaine.

'Are you okay?'

'Mm-hmm!' Kurt nods a little too quickly, smiles a little too widely. His voice is higher than usual. He pushes himself up from Blaine's lap and kisses him harder than before. It's stopped feeling like him and Kurt; it feels like- Kurt flinches back. 'What was that?'

'I could ask you the same thing-'

He realises Kurt is looking up, touching his head and looking at his hand. 'Something just fell on me!'

Blaine feels a drop on his head, too. Then a lot more on his shoulders, his arms, his legs, and both boys scramble to their feet. 'Kurt-'

'Blaine, what's happening? Is something wrong?'

His eyes are darting around in a panic, and Blaine takes his hand. 'No, it's fine, it's just rain. It's water. It can't hurt you. Come on,' he tugs on Kurt's hand and they both run to a tree for shelter. Kurt still looks terrified.

'Did we – did we do this? Is this because we changed everything?'

Blaine looks around at the park as it quickly becomes drenched.

'I guess we did. Looks like this place really isn't perfect anymore.' Kurt's still frowning. 'I promise, this is okay. Rain is totally normal. It happens all over the world. Look.' He steps away, directly into the rain, both arms outstretched, palms up. It's torrential, like a cartoon cloud being unzipped. He can feel the rain soaking through his clothes, and it just makes him laugh. He hadn't realised how much he had missed rain. 'See? Just water. Same as a shower, same as the lake.' He extends a hand. 'Come out here. It feels great!' Kurt keeps pressing himself as close to the tree trunk as possible. 'Do you trust me?'

'You? Yes. That?' He points at the downpour. 'No.'

Blaine snorts.

'Just try it with me for a minute. Please. I promise I'll keep you safe.'

Still frowning, Kurt tentatively reaches out to take Blaine's hand. Blaine pulls him out into the open.

'This happens a lot where you come from?'

'Yeah, sometimes. And it doesn't hurt people. I mean, the occasional slippery road, but we still don't have that many streets here so I can't see it being that big a problem. Come on.'

They walk further, unsheltered, clothes sticking to skin. Strands of Kurt's hair flop forwards, and Blaine pushes them back. Kurt keeps staring around himself.

'Where does it come from? Does it stop, or does it just stay like this now?'

'It'll stop eventually. It comes from…' he vaguely recalls a diagram from middle school, but decides not to go into it, 'the sky. It just falls from the sky for a while and then it stops.'

Kurt stretches his arms out, looking up and opening his mouth, as if he needs to feel the rain in every possible way. He even does a little twirl, and before Blaine can stop him, he giggles and starts running.

No. He isn't going to run. This isn't a Natasha Bedingfield song. He is absolutely not about to frolic across a park with this boy. Those aren't his legs moving, his feet splashing in puddles, his laugh ringing out, breathless, among the trees.

'Ow!'

'Kurt? Are you okay?' He runs to where Kurt has fallen, knees and hands caked in mud, and kneels next to him.

Kurt heaves himself up, wheezing with laughter. 'No, Blaine.' He stares at Blaine for a moment, deadpan expression, before smearing mud onto his cheek. 'I'm fantastic.' He laughs again and flops onto his back in the wet grass. He yanks at Blaine's shirt and pulled him down beside him and soon they're both giggling helplessly.

'So. Rain. Like it?'

Kurt nods, eyes closed, a film of water coating his face. 'Very much.' He turns to look at Blaine. He seems to brace himself before leaning over to kiss Blaine again, hard and determined. Blaine still can't put his finger on why it doesn't feel right, but he pulls back nonetheless.

'We should go home.'

Kurt sits up, avoiding Blaine's eyes. 'That was bad, wasn't it? I'm sorry.'

Blaine clambers to his feet, taking Kurt's hand and pulling him up. 'No, no, it's never bad. I just-' He can't bear to upset Kurt, not tonight. 'I just think we need to get dry. It looks like this is only going to get worse.'

'Oh. Yeah, of course, good idea. Do you want to come back to my house? My parents aren't home.'

There's that look again, losing Kurt's usual softness, a look so familiar but not in this face.

'Okay. Let's just try and get warm first.'

Kurt isn't his usual, happy self, but he smiles anyway, taking Blaine's hand so they can walk home together.

The walk is easier. They chat, they laugh about the evening's events, Kurt keeps marvelling at the rain, and by the time they get back to Kurt's they feel like themselves again. He borrows a set of navy pyjamas, changing in the bathroom to avoid any more weird tension, and returns to Kurt's room to find him in a lavender pyjama set, sitting on the rug next to the bed, a blanket round his shoulders and two hot chocolates in front of him. It feels so much more natural, more Kurt than earlier.

'You look so cute and cosy,' he says, sitting next to him. 'This is exactly what we needed, don't you think?' He leans over to kiss Kurt's temple, but Kurt turns his head and kisses his lips instead, just like he was in the park. It's like he has to force himself to do it, and Blaine has to turn away. He puts his hand over his mouth.

He watches Kurt look down at his own knees, wrapping his arms around them to curl himself up as tightly as he can.

It dawns on him where he knows this from. Why it's so familiar.

He looks exactly how Blaine felt about a year ago.

'Sorry I keep doing it wrong. I just don't know how to do it properly, and you won't try to – do you not want me anymore?'

'Kurt, that's crazy; of course I want you. You aren't doing anything wrong.' He pulls at Kurt's hand so he can hold it, and Kurt's posture loosens up a little. 'Actually, I've done exactly what you're doing.'

'Yes, I know, Blaine. I know you've been with lots of other boys and done lots of other things that you haven't done with me. I just don't understand why, when this is probably the only night we have-'

Blaine moves the mugs so he can shuffle round and sit in front of Kurt. 'No, listen, Kurt, this isn't about that. Well, not the way you think. I love that you want to make tonight special. I want that too.'

'Then why won't you-'

'Because you don't really want to.'

Kurt frowns, looking up at Blaine for a moment before staring down again. 'How do you know what I want?'

'Kurt, this should be fun and exciting. Not uncomfortable. Not forced. And I know, because I've been where you are right now. You think going further will prove something or make you feel normal or grown up. Or that it'll make this thing between us more real. But do you know the difference between what I used to do and what's happening here?'

Kurt is maintaining eye contact now. He shakes his head. 'What?'

'The people I was with then didn't care. They didn't care that I was unhappy, or they couldn't tell that deep down I just wanted to leave. Maybe I was just really good at hiding it. But I care. Even if tonight is all we have, all that matters to me is being with you. Running out of time isn't a good enough reason to do something you don't feel ready for. I would trade every night with every other guy just to have an extra night holding your hand. I feel more just kissing you than I did doing anything else.'

Kurt's eyes are glistening. He lets his knees drop and holds both of Blaine's hands. 'Really?'

'I get why it might feel like going further will make us more real. But if you ask me, saying no because you're not ready makes us as real as all the blossoms, all the birds, all those insane fireworks. As real as that.' He points to the window just in time for a flash of lightning, which makes Kurt jump. Blaine shuffles round again so he can put his arm around Kurt's waist.

'What was that?' The tremble in his voice makes Blaine pull him closer.

'It's lightning. This is just a storm; it'll pass. I'll keep you safe.'

Kurt nuzzles into Blaine's chest and he can feel the tension leaving his shoulders.

'Do you promise me that if at any point tonight you aren't 100% enjoying what we're doing, you'll let me know? And I'll promise to do the same?'

Kurt nods, leaning on Blaine's shoulder. 'Promise.'

'Good.' He ducks his head to catch Kurt's eye. 'I really do love you. So much.'

Kurt smiles sheepishly. 'I love you too. And while we are fully on the same page, and accepting that if it doesn't go any further it's fine, can we make out now? Maybe in my bed because I'm still pretty cold from the rain?'

Blaine laughs and kisses Kurt gently, relieved when Kurt stays soft and pliant next to him.

'What about the hot chocolate?'

Kurt glances at the mugs on the floor.

'Let it turn into cold chocolate.'

'New invention. Delicious.'

Kurt sits on the bed, joined quickly by Blaine, who cups his cheek delicately as he kisses him. Kurt kisses back, eagerly but naturally, and crosses his legs toward Blaine so his toes can tease at the fabric over Blaine's leg. Blaine takes the message, lowering his hand to Kurt's waist. 'Is this okay?' he asks as he pushes gently at the hem of Kurt's shirt. Just this tiny new contact makes goosebumps erupt over Kurt's body, and he nods. The hand slides to the small of his back, until they both inhale sharply, chests touching, and Kurt pulls at Blaine's collar so they're both lying down, legs tangling awkwardly, both boys giggling.

'I think – I think I'd like you to take your shirt off. If that's okay.'

It's on the floor in seconds.

'Don't feel like you have to-' Blaine kisses him, 'if you don't want to.'

Kurt takes a deep breath before looking straight into Blaine's eyes.

'I want you to do it.'

Blaine has to bite his lip. The shy assertiveness is divine. He takes his time, kissing slowly down Kurt's neck and unbuttoning his shirt. Kurt's fingers tangle in his hair, and he traces over Kurt's collar bone and down to the softness of his stomach. Every stuttered breath and twitching muscle just pushes him on. Kurt sits up so they can ease his shirt off his shoulders together, but Blaine's lips don't leave his.

'Is this still good?'

Kurt nods. 'But… but no more than this, okay?'

Blaine can't stop smiling. He loves seeing the faith in Kurt's eyes, knowing he is completely trusted to look after him and make him feel safe. 'Of course. This is perfect.'

Hands touch and explore. Lips whisper and giggle. Pulses race and hairs stand on end. They stay up until the early hours of the morning, sometimes kissing and finding new places to draw moans and gasps out of each other (just above Blaine's left hip is a spot he wasn't fully aware of himself before Kurt's fingertips brush against it – nobody else has ever taken the time before to figure out what really makes him feel good, and this feel exquisite), but sometimes just talking. About the last few weeks. About last night. About their plans for… after.

As dawn crawls into being among the clouds, the weak sunlight lands on the two boys: Blaine's head on Kurt's chest, their hands locked together, eyes closed and lips smiling as the rain continues to hammer at the windows.