Trigger Warning: Implied non-consensual sexual acts.

Hey, handsome. Sorry again for bailing. Let me make it up to you. -J

You free tonight? –J

Blaine's fingers trembled as he balled them into a fist and rapped hard on the door. It was cold in Ohio in November, and he'd forgotten his gloves. Standing outside the dingy apartment, he bounced on the balls of his feet to keep warm. He heaved a sigh and his breath escaped his lips like white smoke.

The door clicked and opened to reveal Jeremiah in a pair of faded jeans and a crisp blue button-down. "Blaine! Hey, come on in."

He stepped back to allow the teen entrance. "Here, let me take your coat." Blaine felt a bit strange being helped out of his outerwear, but smiled through it. Jeremiah continued, "I thought about taking you out but then, I thought, why not cook something and have a nice night in, right?"

Taken aback by the change in plan, Blaine shook his head and tried to play off his surprise. "Yeah, right, sure."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and followed Jeremiah into the apartment and the little kitchen area. "Have a seat," Jeremiah offered, waving a hand at the bar-height table set for two. Blaine obliged, slipping onto one of the bright red stools.

He was halfway curious what Jeremiah had prepared, but when he opened the oven and pulled out a pizza box, Blaine laughed. "Voi-la! I said I thought about cooking – not that I'm actually any good at it," said Jeremiah with a generous wink. "So, I did the next best thing. Sausage and pepperoni, right?"

Blaine adjusted himself on his perch. "Yeah, sounds good." If he was honest, he felt a little disappointed, and more than a little apprehensive now that the night was unfolding so differently from how he'd expected it. They'd discussed going to Breadstix, because Jeremiah was feeling like eating Italian food. But in the end, here they were, and Blaine didn't quite understand why they had to eat pizza inside the house instead of going out for the exact same fare.

But things were just getting started. He really liked Jeremiah, and Jeremiah really liked him. Sure, he'd made some compromises already. He hadn't intended to like someone older than him, and he hadn't wanted to date another closet-case, but Jeremiah wasn't like Adam. Not at all. When they were alone, he was attentive. He talked about things that Blaine enjoyed. He listened to what Blaine had to say, rather than the other way around.

Jeremiah put the box down on the table and strode over to the small fridge. "You want a beer?" he asked, and grabbed two bottles.

"No," Blaine said, though maybe a little too quickly. "Thanks, but…"

"Lemonade then?" he interjected.

Blaine said, "Uh, sure."

When Jeremiah delivered a bottle of Mike's hard lemonade, Blaine almost opened his mouth to protest. He didn't think drinking was a good idea. He didn't like how the last time had gone – not at all.

"You know, maybe I'll just stick to water for now."

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. "Oh," he said, then frowned thoughtfully. "OK." But he didn't argue, just got back up and got a bottle of water out of the fridge and set it on the table for Blaine right next to the open bottle of Mike's.

Not wasting another moment, Jeremiah chose a slice of pizza for himself. "I really hope you don't mind, Blaine. I just thought, you know, if we go out, I'll be worried about people looking at us and stuff. I just – I want to get to know you better. You know, just the two of us." In his hands, the older man folded the pizza slice in half. "No pressure. No audience." He took a bite and looked to Blaine for some indication that he understood and agreed.

Blaine, for his part, took his own slice, took a big bite, and chewed silently for a long time. "I get that," he said. "I just…I don't know. I feel like things might be moving a little too fast. I kind of want to slow down, you know? Pump the brakes a little." His eyes slid away from Jeremiah's face and focused intently on the pizza slice in his hands. He missed how Jeremiah's irises dilated with desire.

"Of course, Blaine. Sometimes I forget how young you really are. We can totally take things as slowly as you need."

Blaine felt a flare of indignance rise in his chest. "That's – that's not what I meant," he insisted.

Jeremiah had just taken another large bite of his pizza and listened patiently for Blaine to explain exactly what, indeed, he had meant, but Blaine didn't expound on it. So as soon as Jeremiah swallowed, he simply said, "OK." The pair of them ate in companionable silence, though Blaine, still feeling disgruntled by the fact that Jeremiah thought him "young," decided to ease up on the water and take a few swigs of the hard lemonade.

"You like video games?" Jeremiah asked.

Blaine shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

"Ever play Call of Duty?"

Before he knew it, Blaine found himself laughing as he and Jeremiah battled it out on the flatscreen tv in the living room. But when Blaine died for the third time in a row, Jeremiah placed a hand on his thigh. He leaned into Blaine and murmured silkily in his ear. "I win."

Blaine lost the ability to breath. He turned his head quickly to face Jeremiah and found himself practically nose to nose with him. Cautiously, tentatively, he moved in one millimeter at a time until he closed the gap between their lips. Blaine's heart beat like a drumroll in his chest. This was what he'd meant. He wanted more of this, even if he hadn't been able to put that desire into words earlier. And then, almost without warning, Blaine felt Jeremiah's hands working the buttons of his shirt. He pulled away. "Wait. Just…wait," he said breathlessly.

Blond brows furrowed, Jeremiah gave Blaine an incredulous look. "What? Did I do something wrong?" he asked. "I'm not doing anything we haven't already done." Blaine's insides twisted, even as he tried his best to gain an arm's length distance from Jeremiah.

He shook his head. "Just, give me a second, OK?"

Jeremiah huffed. "Blaine, seriously. All we were doing was kissing. Are you seriously freaking out over kissing? Cause if so, maybe you need something stronger to drink to loosen you up. I thought you were cooler than this."

Blaine didn't like what he was hearing. "I don't need to drink to loosen up."

"Oh no?" Jeremiah challenged, his tone lust-deep. "Then how about you take my shirt off and prove it?"

He laid back, propping himself up on his elbows.

Blaine's fingers trembled for the second time that night, only this time, it wasn't because of the cold. "You want this, Blaine," said Jeremiah quietly. "I can tell. You wouldn't keep flirting with me or coming up to my apartment if you didn't."

The events of that night kept playing over and over in Blaine's mind. He'd wanted it. He had. And, Lord help him, it had felt good. Touching and being touched had felt good. But at the same time, something inside him was telling him it had been wrong, that maybe what he allowed to happen wasn't exactly the same thing as what should have happened. That, though, was down to him. Blaine had been the one to start everything, hadn't he? Blaine had been the one to go over to Jeremiah's apartment and to stay, even when he learned what Jeremiah had planned. In the end, it wasn't like Jeremiah had done things without his consent. He'd agreed to everything that happened…hadn't he?

But part of him regretted that agreement. He wished he could go back and change what he'd done because, as much as it had felt good, it hadn't felt entirely right. Maybe Jeremiah had been right. Maybe he really was just a stupid kid trying to play at being an adult. And now, he couldn't just go back to kissing. They'd already done…things.

If Blaine stayed with Jeremiah, he would need to keep doing those same things…and maybe even some other things. Because one thing was sure, if he told Jeremiah he wanted to stop doing those things they'd done, Jeremiah would think he wasn't mature enough to handle a real relationship and he would blow whatever chance he had with Jeremiah. That thought sent Blaine spiraling back into his cycling thoughts of self-doubt and discomfort until suddenly…

"Oh, my, Gaga, Blaine, you will not believe what just happened today." Kurt arrived at their table with a brilliant grin on his face, he dropped his bag on the table, sauntered to his seat and sat down. "My dad proposed to Finn's mom and yours truly is planning the wedding," he singsonged the last word and let out an excited squeal. "This is just what I needed," he beamed.

"And the New Directions are going to sing. You'll come, won't you? Tell me you'll come."

Blaine blinked, shocked by the sudden attack of an over-excited Kurt. "Um…y-yeah sure. I guess. When is it?"

"Saturday."

Blaine's brows shot up. "This Saturday?" Things sure did move fast around Lima. "Wow… um…are you sure you can throw a wedding together in less than a week?"

"Are you kidding? I have been training for this moment my entire life. I used to plan and carry out weddings for my power rangers when I was barely old enough to walk," Kurt responded huffily.

Blaine quirked his head thoughtfully. Well, he had a certain point. Kurt was definitely creative, if his fashion sense was anything to go by, and Blaine felt pretty sure if anyone could do it, his money would be on Kurt.

"I've scheduled a dress fitting for Carole this afternoon, and I've already been working on a set list. I thought maybe you could help me out with some of the music since you like all that Katy Perry poppy stuff," Kurt said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Well gee – when you put it like that," Blaine deadpanned.

"Oh, you know what I mean. Now come on. Help me," Kurt asked, turning his puppy eyes and a pouted lip onto Blaine. "Pretty please?" He smiled.

That absolutely did him in. Kurt looked so unexpectedly adorable and devilish at the same time. Blaine sucked in a breath, then let out a nervous laugh. "OK," he agreed holding up his hands in surrender. "OK. Just – never to pout like that again."

Kurt smirked. "No promises."