A/N: Here we are – the third and final chapter! Last time we left the boys, Blaine had just finished walking Kurt through his kissing tips, and Burt proved that he has the worst timing…

The booming voice of Burt Hummel startled both boys back to reality. Blaine released Kurt's hand and shuffled backwards on the bed. "That's my cue to leave," he announced, hurriedly gathering his belongings. He pulled on his leather jacket, and with it, seemed to slip back into his badboy persona.

Kurt, astounded by the abrupt shift in Blaine's demeanor, stood dumbly while Blaine made his exit. Upon reaching the door, Blaine turned and paused, leaning against the frame. "Thanks for the study date, sexy," he whispered smugly, all traces of the sincere boy who had been holding Kurt's hand a moment ago gone. "See ya Monday." He winked and disappeared from the doorway.

Kurt blinked twice and then came to his senses, bolting for the door. After all, leather jacket-clad Blaine Anderson was heading downstairs – where Kurt's father was waiting.

"Blaine!" he stage-whispered, practically tackling the other boy in the hallway.

"Aww, did you miss me already, sweetheart?" Blaine cooed.

Kurt gave him an effortless bitch glare. "Will you be quiet? Just…just let me handle this," he hissed, shoving past him and bounding down the stairs. The delay in replying to his father's call was only getting longer and harder to explain by the second.

"Hey, dad," he called out, hopefully not too brightly, as he reached the bottom of the staircase. He could feel Blaine descending behind him at a leisurely pace, the movement catching the eye of the elder Hummel.

"Who's your friend?" Burt questioned, giving Blaine a wary onceover.

"Dad, you remember me talking about my Lit project and how we have to work in pairs, right? Well, this is Blaine, my partner." Kurt caught the amused sideways glance from Blaine, who had come to stand beside him. "My –my project partner, Dad. Not like, you know, my partner partner, like life partner, I mean…" he rambled on, feeling the flush building in his cheeks as his father looked back and forth between the two boys. Way to go, Kurt, he thought to himself, wishing the living room floor would open up and swallow him whole. Much to his surprise, his reprieve came from a very unlikely source.

"Blaine Anderson. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said, taking a step forward and extending his right hand. Kurt's head swiveled slowly sideways in disbelief. If it weren't for the leather jacket, tight jeans and well-worn boots, Kurt would have sworn he was standing beside a proper gentleman, not McKinley's resident badass.

"Nice to meet you, Blaine. Call me Burt," the man replied, giving the younger man a firm handshake and a nod.

"Thank you very much, Burt. I'm happy to have been teamed up with your son on this assignment. He's an excellent student, and I'm sure we'll do well on the project. We're planning to meet here every other Saturday morning, so I will undoubtedly be seeing you again." Turning to a speechless Kurt, Blaine continued, "Thank you again for having me over. I really should be going now. I hope the both of you enjoy the rest of your weekend."

Burt seemed satisfied for the moment, telling Blaine goodbye and walking off toward the kitchen, saying something about lunch. Kurt stared at Blaine in stunned silence as Blaine stood before him expectantly, a cheeky grin on his face. Kurt finally realized he was waiting to be shown out. "Oh, um, yeah," he stammered, gesturing for Blaine to follow him and leading him out the front door. Once the door was safely closed behind him, he caught Blaine by the arm to stop him from walking away. "What in the world was that?" he asked incredulously.

Blaine shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? I give good parent," he quipped. "Oh, and by the way," he added, walking backwards down the driveway. "You're totally adorable when you're flustered. Later, gorgeous," he called over his shoulder as he hopped on his motorcycle, strapped on his helmet, and roared down the street, leaving a baffled Kurt Hummel in his wake.

xoxoxo

The remainder of the weekend passed rather quickly. Kurt endured an awkward exchange with his father about having a boy in his room with no one else in the house ("We were studying, dad," didn't seem to have much of an effect), which ended with a promise that all future visits would occur downstairs, at the dining room table. He retreated to his room after lunch, feeling so confused and overwhelmed by the morning that he completely forgot his plan to go shopping.

Try as he might, Kurt couldn't figure Blaine out. The cocky, smirking, bad boy who dropped constant innuendos – that Blaine he knew. The kind, earnest, almost gentle boy who held his hand and told him he deserved to be happy? The polite, eloquent young man who gracefully addressed his father? That boy wasn't the one he was accustomed to. He could not for the life of him figure out which was the real Blaine. When it occurred to him that they might all be the real Blaine, his level of confusion skyrocketed, sending his thoughts into a whirl of overlapping possibilities.

Late Sunday night, as Kurt was getting ready for bed, he put his homework back into his bag for Monday morning. Shifting one notebook, something fell out and caught his eye. He reached into the bag and retrieved the small stack of index cards, chuckling softly when he read the top card. "Art and Science of…" he muttered, rolling his eyes.

He settled his bag and got into bed, flipping idly through the cards and shaking his head at the memories attached to them. "Wait a minute," he said aloud, sitting up abruptly. He laid all of the cards out on the comforter in front of him and stared for a moment. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Only you, Anderson," he declared, shaking his head in astonishment.

xoxoxo

Monday brought its usual routine, and Kurt barely even noticed having to shove the jock and girlfriend combo away from his locker. A shout from down the hall drew his attention to where Karofsky and Azimio were laughing while a nerdy freshman knelt down to pick up his scattered books and papers. Locking eyes with Karofsky, Kurt's blood froze as the bully took a step in his direction. Instantly, Azimio tapped Karofsky on the shoulder, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes wide. Karofsky looked from his teammate back to Kurt, and then to something farther down hallway, before turning down a side hall with a sneer.

It was so odd. Kurt had never known those two to pass by an opportunity to give him hell. It didn't make sense. They hadn't bothered him in weeks. He didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he couldn't help but wonder again why…

"Hey, gorgeous," the low voice of Blaine startled Kurt from his thoughts, causing him to flinch.

"Geez, Blaine," he muttered, turning back to his locker and finishing up before slamming it shut.

"Sorry, beautiful. Didn't mean to scare you," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes the way it normally did. Kurt caught those eyes, which usually focused on Kurt unwaveringly, flicking past him to the hall that the football players had just vacated.

It all clicked.

"Come with me," Kurt snapped, grabbing a hold of Blaine's arm and walking resolutely down the hall. Blaine stumbled for the first few steps until he caught up with the motion.

"Oh, this is all so sudden," Blaine joked in an affectedly breathy voice.

"Shut up," Kurt hissed without looking back.

A couple of hallways and one flight of stairs later, Kurt threw open a door and strode through, Blaine still in tow. Blaine hadn't been to this part of the school before, but soon realized that they had entered the auditorium via a side entrance. Their footsteps rang out on the wooden floor as Kurt walked them to center stage, next to the ghost light. He finally stopped, turned on his heel, and faced Blaine.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

"Whoa," Blaine held up his hands defensively. "Slow down. What do you mean, what did I do?"

Kurt stepped closer, and repeated his question, pausing after each word, "What. Did. You. Do?"

Blaine sighed. "I'm going to need some context, gorgeous."

"You want context? Fine. Since the day I first set foot in this miserable school, I have been a favorite target of Dave Karofsky and Azimio Adams. Slushies, locker shoves, books knocked around, you name it. I've lost track of the number of bruises I've had thanks to those Neanderthals," Kurt ranted. He softened a bit when he noted the pained expression that crossed Blaine's face.

"Anyway," he continued, less harshly, "all of a sudden, it stopped. I didn't even realize it at first, until I noticed that the bruises were gone. I couldn't understand what changed – until today."

Blaine remained silent, waiting.

"It stopped when you started hanging around me, didn't it?" Kurt asked quietly.

"I…" Blaine faltered.

Kurt took another step closer. "I didn't put it together until a few minutes ago, when Karofsky and Azimio were heading toward me, then walked away – it was because they saw you, wasn't it? What did you do, Blaine?"

"I don't understand," Blaine finally answered, exasperated. "They're leaving you alone. Isn't that good? Why are you upset about it?"

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out, trying to understand his own feelings well enough to explain them. "I just want to know what's going on, that's all."

Blaine regarded him carefully, choosing his words. "Okay, okay," he sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I may have…had a conversation with them a while ago, making them understand that it was in their best interest to steer clear of you."

"A conversation?" Kurt repeated incredulously, doubting that Blaine was somehow able to simply reason with them. "Did you try to fight with them? God, Blaine, they're twice your size! They could have killed you!"

"First of all, I can handle myself, thank you," Blaine retorted. "And secondly, I didn't fight them. I told you, we had a conversation." Kurt's arched brow told Blaine he'd need to explain further. "They're not that hard to get around, you know. Azimio's a moron. I happened to find out that he, well, let's just say he's taking some 'herbal supplements' that Coach Bieste wouldn't approve of," he smirked. "I let him know that it would be a pity if that information became public."

Kurt covered his eyes with his hand. "Blackmail, Blaine? Really?"

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

Kurt looked up again. "And Karofsky?"

Blaine's smirk disappeared instantly. "Yeah. Um," he paused, glancing at the ceiling as if the answers were there somehow. "He's got his own secrets," he finished, returning his gaze to Kurt. "I won't say what they are, but – promise me something, okay? Steer clear of him. And if he gives you any hassle, you tell me. Promise," he insisted.

Kurt was taken aback by the intensity in Blaine's voice. He was serious, and perhaps a little frightened. "I can take care of myself, Blaine," he argued, but without any heat.

"I know you can," Blaine stepped forward and put a hand on Kurt's arm, "but you shouldn't have to. And that guy…" he closed his eyes and let out a frustrated breath. "Please. Promise me."

"I promise," Kurt consented quietly.

"Thank you."

An awkward silence fell between them as Blaine dropped his hand and shifted from one foot to the other, apparently not knowing what else to say. Kurt, for his part, looked steadily at the boy in front of him, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head as though he'd be able to find what he sought if he just took the right angle.

"Huh," he uttered to himself, as if coming to a conclusion. He turned on his heel, speaking louder for Blaine to hear. "You know," he began, walking toward the front of the stage while fishing around in his messenger bag, "it took me until last night to figure this out." He sat down and dangled his legs over the edge, then turned his head back to where Blaine remained. A quick tip of his head was all the invitation Blaine needed to cross the stage and join him, sitting close enough that their arms and thighs barely brushed one another.

"Figure what out," Blaine inquired as he noted the stack of index cards in Kurt's hand.

"You think you're so smart," Kurt retorted, setting aside the title card and holding up the card with the first tip written on it.

"Breathe – that begins with a B," he said, laying the card on his knee. "Loosen up – that starts with the letter L," he went on, placing that card atop the first one. He looked up to see Blaine staring at him intently, biting his lower lip in amusement. Kurt shook his head and continued.

"Adapt and Improvise – that's an A and an I. Negotiate begins with N." Two more cards joined the others. He held the last one aloft. "And finally, Enjoy begins with the letter E," he declared, placing the final card on his lap with a flourish. "Put them all together, and you get B-L-A-I-N-E."

"Well done, gorgeous," Blaine congratulated him with a nudge to the shoulder.

"So all along, what you wanted me to know about kissing is that when I do it, I should think of you?" Kurt quirked a brow as he stared Blaine down, seemingly affronted, but the way his mouth twitched up at the corner belied his tone.

Blaine laughed lightly, and before he knew it, Kurt was joining him. "You're so ridiculous," he murmured as their laughter died down. Kurt turned his attention to the cards in his lap, fumbling with them nervously, suddenly very, very aware of Blaine's proximity. He stopped fidgeting when Blaine's hand came to rest atop his own.

"Why me?" Kurt asked softly, still focusing on their joined hands on his lap and becoming painfully aware of the sound of his own heartbeat.

"What?"

"Why me? Why, out of all the kids at McKinley, did you choose to step in and protect me?"

"Do I really need to tell you?" Blaine reached out with his free hand and brushed his finger under Kurt's chin, encouraging him to look up.

Kurt turned and saw that Blaine's face was closer now, his eyes soft and warm, his expression open and hopeful and nervous. Kurt was overwhelmed by the realization that he could read all of those things so easily. It was as if he found the key to a language he never knew existed.

"No one ever…" his voice broke with emotion, and Blaine gave his hand a comforting squeeze, never breaking eye contact. "No one ever saw. No one ever helped before. No one ever cared." Blaine tenderly stroked Kurt's cheek with the tips of his fingers.

Kurt felt the tears threatening to form in his eyes. He shook his head in wonder at the amazing boy beside him. This boy, armed in black leather and a crass attitude, had single-handedly succeeded in protecting Kurt when no other soul had ever bothered to try.

Then Kurt knew – this was the real Blaine Anderson.

"Blaine," he breathed out.

"Kurt," the other answered softly. The sound of his name falling reverently from Blaine's lips for the first time was more than Kurt's heart could bear.

Breathe.

The word floated through his mind as Kurt leaned forward and closed the final few inches between them. His heart fluttered wildly in his chest as their lips met, touching lightly at first, barely pressing together.

Loosen up.

As soon as he felt Blaine's lips move against his, he the tension in his shoulders dissipated, allowing him to turn into Blaine and relax. He pressed in closer, following his instincts and parting his lips slightly as they slid over Blaine's.

Adapt and Improvise

Kurt felt Blaine shift beside him and then a warm hand was cradling his jaw. He tilted his head into the touch, feeling a thrill go through him at the change in sensation when their mouths met at a different angle. He reached a hand out and slid it up and across Blaine's shoulder, enjoying the muffled sound of appreciation he received in response.

Negotiate

Kurt had initiated the kiss, and he could tell Blaine let him direct things at first, but then he noted a subtle change as Blaine's took Kurt's lower lip between his own caressingly. Kurt found he was more than willing to comply, responding to the motion and losing himself in the feeling.

Enjoy

As the romance stories always say, the need for air finally overcame the need for kissing, and they reluctantly parted. Kurt fluttered his eyes open as he tried to bring his racing heart under control. Based on the soft panting coming from the hazel-eyed boy a few inches away, he was not alone.

"Hi," Kurt whispered with a giggle.

Blaine leaned back in for a quick peck to the corner of Kurt's mouth. "Hi," he answered.

"Say it again," Kurt pleaded, sliding his hand from Blaine's shoulder to his bicep.

"Um, hi?" Blaine repeated questioningly.

"No. The part…the part where you said my name," he shyly corrected.

Blaine beamed a heart-stopping smile, reaching out again to cup Kurt's cheek with his hand, stroking it with the pad of his thumb. "Kurt. My sweet, brilliant, amazing, beautiful Kurt," he complied happily, earning himself another, longer kiss. Resting their foreheads together, Blaine quipped, "Had I known that, I'd have called you by name ages ago."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't think I could do it without blurting out how I felt about you," he admitted.

"Oh, Blaine. And all this time, I thought I was the silly romantic." Kurt leaned back to look again into the honey-colored eyes he couldn't resist.

Blaine shrugged bashfully and, for the first time in Kurt's experience, blushed. It was too adorable.

"You know," Kurt offered, taking both of Blaine's hands in his own and intertwining their fingers between them, "maybe we could use my name as an acronym for something, too."

"Oh, really? And how might that go?" Blaine played along.

"Hmm. Let's see," Kurt mused, biting his lip in mock thought. "The first letter of my name is a K, which could stand for…" he prompted.

"It could stand for Kiss," Blaine supplied.

"Ooh, that could work," Kurt agreed. "So, what would the next letter stand for?" Kurt asked, his breath hitching as Blaine slid closer, freeing one hand to wrap around Kurt and rest firmly at the small of his back.

"Do you care?" he said, smiling when he felt Kurt shiver at the low, husky tone of his voice.

"Uh-uh," Kurt murmured, his eyes slipping closed as Blaine passionately claimed his lips once more. It seemed they had all the tips and lessons they needed. Now, it was merely a matter of practice makes perfect, and Kurt was nothing if not a dedicated student.

A/N: Ta daa! I hope you enjoyed this crazy little fic of mine. Let me know if you figured out the trick hidden in Blaine's flashcards – no one mentioned it in reviews, so if you did break his code, thank you for not posting a spoiler! May you all find a Blaine with whom you can practice your arts and sciences. Be kind to yourselves, and to one another.