AN: Hello, darlings. I'm sorry this took so long to get up but I decided to make some not-small changes, so I got behind. And then it got monstrously long and I decided to split the chapter into 2 seperate chapters. So what you have here is the first part of that.

Thank you so much for all the love for Chapter 1. It means so very much to me!

I hope you enjoy!

Blaine spent most of Saturday preparing for school to start on Tuesday. There were lesson plans to create, supplies to gather, and he had to pick out the perfect outfit for his first day teaching at a new school. He not only had to impress a group of five and six year olds, he had to impress the rest of the faculty. He dragged Cooper along with him on three different trips to get the supplies he needed, the things that wouldn't be making the journey from New York. He drove the car he'd purchased from Jeff's brother every time, trying his best to learn the routes to places other than the bar and to the school. Because only then would he be able to let Lima feel like home.

By the time dinner rolled around, Blaine's school bag was packed and he had several boxes of things that he would bring to the school Monday morning. He was ready. But that didn't stop him from double, triple, quadruple, "Blaine, if you go upstairs and check that bag one more time, I'm going to be an only child," checking.

Blaine had intended to leave Sunday as a day of rest and relaxation. He was going to sit around on the couch with Cooper, watch football and just be. When he walked into the living room just after noon he was still dressed in pair of black sweatpants that were just slightly too big and a t-shirt he'd had since high school with the Dalton Academy mascot, the Warbler, fading into the thinning navy blue fabric.

"We ordered lunch from Hummel's," Cooper informed him not looking away from the TV.

"Oh," Blaine replied trying his voice neutral, hoping that his brother wouldn't notice the excitement in his voice cause by the mere mention of a bar, his eyes trained on the TV.

"Their burgers are spectacular and their onion rings," Cooper turned his gaze toward Blaine then closed his eyes and paused for dramatic effect. It made Blaine a bit uncomfortable, "are divine. Do you want me come with to pick it up?"

"I can go," Blaine said immediately.

"You can drive if you want."

"No, I can go. By myself," Blaine said, his words rushed, the butterflies dancing inside him, happy, nervous, excited. "Really. Just sit down and watch the game. I've got this."

And he did. Until he pulled into Hummel's parking lot. Until he realized that he had been in such a hurry to get to Hummel's that he'd left the house without changing.

Blaine banged his head against the steering wheel. What was he doing? The only reason he'd agreed to come to Hummel's, and was desperate to do it alone, was because he was holding on to the tiniest bit of hope that he would get the chance to see Kurt. The chance was small, but he had to take it.

Because when Blaine wasn't freaking out about lesson plans and how many washable markers he had, he was thinking about Kurt. His mind continuously flashed back to the other night, inside the bar he was currently parked outside of, remembering how easy it had been to sit and talk to a total stranger, who he happened to find out he had a lot in common with. A total stranger who happened to be breathtakingly gorgeous. Blaine thought about Kurt's eyes while putting a lesson plan together about the color blue. He thought about how Kurt's eyes seemed a little sad, or maybe it was the late hour, but they still had been absolutely mesmerizing, a stunning shade of blue, as Kurt told him of how he'd come to run the bar and of his father. If Cooper had known about the extra hour Blaine had spent at Hummel's Friday night, he'd have accused Blaine, loudly, of his ulterior motives for picking up lunch. And Blaine definitely had ulterior motives. He'd developed a pretty serious crush in a day and a half.

Blaine forced himself out of the car, continuing his mental reprimand for not changing his outfit, and into the restaurant. Inside, the sunlight was coming in from the open blinds, illuminating the foyer that Friday night had been packed with people. Today, there was no one to greet him, and there were only two rather small crowds gathered around two rather large televisions, one on either side of the bar. But otherwise, there were only a couple of other tables occupied. Blaine's gaze went to the bar, desperately seeking someone to help him, a specific someone, and tried to suppress the disappointment that bubbled inside him when Kurt was nowhere in sight. The only staff members he could see were the waiter serving drinks to one of the groups of game-watchers and a waitress behind the counter with his back to him. It had been so long since he'd been like this: starry-eyed, anxious, hopeful. He was acting like a teenager instead of a twenty-nine year old man. He'd been so wrapped up in the excitement of it all that he'd forgotten how devastating it was when things don't turn out the way you plan them. Accepting that his hopes were crushed, at least for today, Blaine approached the counter.

"Pick up for Anderson," Blaine said to get the waitress's attention. When she turned around Blaine immediately recognized her from the other night. He remembered her name was Santana.

"Just a minute," she muttered, sounding bored, then disappeared behind a swinging double door off to her right.

While he waited, Blaine leaned against the bar and looked over at the Browns game that was playing on the television. They were down by three with two minutes until half-time. He'd get back just in time for third quarter to start, and if he was lucky Cooper would let him look over lesson plans while they watched.

"Blaine."

At the sound of his name, Blaine turned back towards the bar and was shocked to find Kurt stand there in much different attire than he'd had on Friday night. Today he looked more professional: black slacks, a blue button down dress shirt, the top few buttons undone, nearly doing the same to Blaine. And Blaine was dressed like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Hey," Blaine said trying to hide the mixture of anxiety, excitement and embarrassment that rushed through his entire body when he saw Kurt. Somehow seeing him in the sunlight had only enhanced Kurt's features, Blaine's memory of Friday night not doing the real Kurt justice. He tried desperately not to be the bumbling idiot he'd been at the bar on Friday night, "I didn't see you when I came in."

"I was in the back," Kurt explained with a smile, "Getting your order ready."

When the phone order for Anderson came in, Kurt had immediately made it his personal project. It was Sunday afternoon, and he was mostly at the bar in a managerial capacity, making sure orders were placed and working out the employee schedule for the next week. But when he heard the order come through, he dropped everything. Maybe it was stupid—and he heard the scoff come from Santana—and maybe Blaine wouldn't come to pick up the order, and maybe none of it was even for him. But Kurt had made his mission to make sure that the order was perfect.

"Oh, thanks," Blaine said, "My brother said you guys had amazing burgers and then got a little inappropriate about the onion rings.

Kurt laughed, "He's not the only one. Your total is $23.68."

Blaine reached into his pocket took out his wallet.

"You remembered your wallet this time," Kurt teased.

"Yeah," Blaine laughed as he handed Kurt the money, "Thank you, again. For holding onto it the other night."

"It was no problem," Kurt said handing Blaine his receipt.

"I'll see you around," Blaine said grabbing the bag and walking towards the door. He waited until he back was to the counter and smiled so brightly he could have lit up Time Square. His heart was soaring at the same time that it pounded in his chest. He felt alive in a way that he hadn't since he came to Lima. And then Kurt called his name just before he reached the doors of the bar, and his heart stopped.

Blaine turned around to find Kurt standing where he'd left him, behind the bar, but now Santana was at his side, giving him a stern look that Blaine couldn't understand, her hand on her hip.

"Do you—do you have any plans tonight," Kurt asked.

Blaine took a step closer to the bar, "Not really. I was just going to go home and watch football with Cooper all night."

"Oh, I don't want to bother you if you've got plans."

"He said no, you idiot," Santana said slamming the glass she'd been wiping down on the counter and using the rag to lash at Kurt's shoulder. Then she turned her attention to Blaine, "What's your name? Brian? Brian, what my terribly ridiculous friend is trying to ask you is if you have any intention of attending the bon fire tonight and if you don't would you consider attending it with him?"

"Santana—"

"Oh," Blaine said, "I'd love to. I mean if that's really what you're asking."

"I'm sorry, Santana lacked the ability to be subtle," Kurt said, "But yes, maybe not in those words, but that's what I was asking."

"I'd be honored," Blaine said with a smile. A great big, cat caught the canary smile.

Santana groaned and muttered something that sounded a bit like "I'm not ready for this shit" but tossed a towel over her shoulder and walked back through the double doors.

Blaine walked back over to the counter, ripped the receipt off his bag and scribbled his number on the back of it with the pen that was sitting on the bar and then handed it to Kurt.

"That is my number. Text me the location and I'll figure out how to get there."

"We could meet here," Kurt said, "The bar is going to close early and it's just a couple of blocks down. It's supposed to be a nice night, we could walk."

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Great. Awesome," Kurt said with a toothy grin, "I'll see you here, around eight?"

"I'll see you at eight," Blaine repeated grabbing his bag and heading for the door once again. There was an extra spring in his step, his heart soared just a bit higher and he drove back home singing happily along with the radio.

Kurt arrived back at Hummel's at 7:45. Normally, the empty and the quiet of the bar was soothing, but tonight it only gave Kurt the peace and quiet to freak himself out twice, nearly texting Blaine to cancel before he took a deep breath and tried to remember what it was like to be a rational human being. And then he threw himself into a chair and asked himself, "What the hell am I doing?"

If you had asked him last month, last week, even Friday afternoon before he'd gone into work if he was ready, or even willing to date again, he would have told you outright—without a shadow of a doubt—that he wasn't. That his heart was still trying to mend itself from that last time that it had been broken. That he was happy the way things were and he had no intention of changing that. But then Blaine—handsome and charming—walked into his bar and suddenly everything changed without his permission. And without warning, something inside him, that had been dormant for over a year, woke up. And every thought Blaine could spare went to Blaine. Handsome, adorable, charming Blaine.

Kurt had made the mistake the next morning of telling Santana all about Blaine sitting in the kitchen the next morning. He'd told her about how Blaine had come back to the bar after they'd closed to get his forgotten wallet and how they somehow spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing. And how he'd woken up tired, but excited, giddy even, as he told his best friend about the guy who was still just a stranger.

"Even if you just sleep with him," Santana had told him before he left for the bar, "It'll be good for you."

"Santana, I'm not looking for that," Kurt told her, "I'm not even sure I'm looking for anything."

"Well you should be," Santana said reaching out to pick at Kurt's shirt only to have her hands swatted away, "It's time for you to mount the proverbial horse. Or the actual gay man."

Kurt wasn't sure if he loved or hated his best friend.

"This," Santana waved her hand in a circle in front of Kurt, "This lovesick teenager thing. It looks good on you."

Kurt had just rolled his eyes. Santana may not have the most conventional way of saying things, but everything she said was always in his best interest. If she hadn't said anything earlier when Blaine had come into Hummel's he probably would have lost his nerve and let Blaine leave without a mention of the bonfire. And then he would have had to pine after Blaine until the next time they saw each other. No wonder Santana had been so determined.

A pair of headlights came through the window, pulling Kurt from his thoughts. Blaine was here and there was no way he could back out now. He pushed back the fear away from the front of his mind as he got up and went to meet Blaine at his car.

"Hey," Kurt had said.

"Hey," Blaine had responded, his smile making everything inside Kurt melt.

"Ready to go," Kurt asked.

"Where exactly are we going," Blaine asked.

"There's a field just past Orchard Road. It's never really had a purpose aside from being a large empty slab of land. But every year, on the Sunday before Labor Day, it's where everyone chooses to congregate."

"Well, then lead the way."

"Follow me," Kurt said taking off down the street.

"I'm quite fascinated by all these small town quirks," Blaine said half a block later.

"You call them quirks; we call them things we do to keep ourselves from dying of boredom."

"I've just never experienced anything like this."

"Did you grow up in New York?"

"No," Blaine told him, "We—my parents and I—moved there the summer before I started high school from Connecticut. It was all suburbia before then, nothing like this."

"Rich boy, eh," Kurt joked.

"No, not really. I mean, my family has money. But I'm a teacher and Cooper's working construction. I think we're both far away from the white collar dreams our parents had for us."

"Were your parents disappointed," Kurt asked.

"Probably a little," Blaine said, "But we both followed our hearts."

Kurt hummed in response and then turned left at the corner and then they were there. Across the street was an open space occupied by many people, all gathered in groups, sitting on folding chairs around fire pits. The girls were dressed in short skirts and bikini tops, the boys in tanks and t-shirts. Lima was a far cry from the beach, but its people made the best of the last days of summer.

"Live music," Blaine asked noticing the stage setup across the field.

"This bonfire has been a Lima tradition since before my parents even opened the bar. It was just a bunch of twenty-somethings with loud music coming from a hundred different stereos, drinking out of their coolers. But when my parents opened the restaurant, they decided to partner with the organizers and they started selling beer and they paid for a band and then, according to legend, it didn't suck anymore. Now we send staff to help out and it's a day people look forward to every year."

"Wow," Blaine commented, "That's kind of amazing."

"I can't really take credit for it, it was all my dad's doing," Kurt said, "But it's a nice way for everyone to end the summer. It was my mom's favorite day of the year that wasn't my birthday."

"Was?"

"She died, when I was eight."

"Oh wow. Kurt, I'm sorry."

"I make sure that I come every year because I never got to go with her. The night is still young, but once everything gets going, I completely understand why she loved it so much."

Blaine reached out and grabbed onto Kurt's hand where it had been hanging at his side. He held it firmly as an attempt at comfort, as a show of support, and because he'd been thinking about it since they'd started their journey from the front of the bar. Blaine smiled when Kurt's hand shifted in his own until their fingers were laced together.

Now connected, Kurt dragged them towards a tent next to the stage. Inside stood a couple of makeshift bars being manned by several Hummel's staff members. He only recognized Puck who was standing behind one of the bars making drinks, mostly beer in plastic cups, for the long line of people waiting.

"I'll be right back," Kurt said letting go of Blaine's hand and disappearing behind the bar that Puck was at. He grabbed two long neck bottles from the tub, whispering something to Puck, and heading back towards Blaine.

Kurt handed one of the bottles to Blaine, "Job perk."

When the band began to play, Kurt grabbed onto Blaine's hand and dragged them towards the stage. There were five guys standing on stage in black skinny jeans and neon shirts, introducing themselves as Sunkist Rainbow and Kurt mentally vowed to make sure that Puck was never in charge of booking the band again.

But once they started playing, some poppy-punk hybrid, they weren't so bad. They just had a really terrible name. The music was catchy and around them some people were bobbing their heads to the music, while others were dancing wildly in groups. The music slowed a bit and Kurt turned to Blaine.

"Dance with me," Kurt said.

"I'd love to," Blaine responded.

It was then that Kurt noticed that they were still holding hands; that neither of them had let go while they were standing there. Kurt used it to his advantage and used their joined hands to pull Blaine towards him; his free hand settling on Blaine's hip as they began swaying with the melody of Sunkist Rainbow. Blaine's hand fell onto his shoulder and Kurt felt like he was flying. Like he was thousands of feet in the air and Blaine had put him there. Blaine had come into his life and turned it upside down. And he wasn't sure he wanted to be put back. He wasn't sure he wanted to do anything but stay in that moment with Blaine, whose fingers were brushing lightly over the skin at the top of his collar bone sending shivers through his entire body. He'd told Santana that he wasn't sure if he was looking for anything, and he wasn't. He wasn't looking but he'd found something, he'd found Blaine. Or maybe Blaine found him. Either way, dancing with Blaine, being close to Blaine, was making all those lonely months seem like a distance memory, a tiny candle dancing in the distance. One he knew would eventually burn out—replaced with the fire beginning to roar inside him. The one that had been sparked by Blaine.

When the band took a break, Kurt led them back towards the beer tent, leaving Blaine outside while he went in to grab a couple more drinks. While Kurt was inside, Blaine sat down underneath a tree where Kurt would see him when he came back out. He was high. On life, on Lima, on Kurt. He'd been afraid that all his pain was going to follow him to Lima, and maybe it had. But then there was Kurt, who chased all of the dark clouds away with a smile. Blaine spotted Kurt coming out of the tent and his heart swell when Kurt looked momentarily confused, and then smiled brightly when he spotted Blaine.

"I'm having fun," Blaine said as Kurt sat down next to him, handing him another beer. He could hear the content sound in his own voice, one that had been gone for so long. He only hoped that Kurt could hear it too.

"Me too," Kurt said as though two simple words could describe what he was really feeling.

Was it possible to feel peaceful and one fire at the same time? Sitting beside Blaine, shoulder to shoulder, a warm summer breeze dancing around them, Kurt thought it was. For the first time in a very, very long time, Kurt felt content, the ghosts that had been haunting him, his head and his heart, were quiet for the first time in over a year. There was something not at all unpleasant beginning to roar inside him. He felt a heat wash over him like a wave that had nothing to do with the breeze of the alcohol he'd consumed. It was his heart, thawing out after a long chill. After a time when he thought he'd never feel like this again, when he kept everyone who wasn't his family or close friends at an arm's length, he found himself capable of feeling like this, content with letting someone get close to him, to giving his heart out to someone else. And Blaine had shown him no reason why he couldn't be trusted with it. There was something about Blaine that made it easy for Kurt to want to give his heart to Blaine. Slowly, of course. But he was willing to take the risk.

Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine, right into his eyes like warm caramel, "I like you," he whispered.

"I like you, too," Blaine responded reaching out and entwining their hands. Everything seemed so much better when they were holding hands.

It wasn't anything epic. It wasn't a grand gesture at the end of a heartfelt speech. It wasn't a moment of release after a heated argument. There hadn't been tense moments of will-they-won't-they. But it had just enough spark to light a flame. It was the most perfect gentle kiss, lips pressed against lips, fingers entwined between them. It wasn't long and rather chaste but Blaine's entire body felt like it was on fire and Kurt wanted to continue to do kiss Blaine until he was certain that he'd never forget what Blaine's lips felt like upon his own.

When they broke apart, their eyes found each other, holding each other the way their hands were, tight and connected.

Kurt smiled and stood up still holding onto Blaine's hand.

"You want to go somewhere else," Kurt said looking down at Blaine.

Blaine smiled and nodded getting to his feet as Kurt began them back in the direction of Hummel's.

Walking into Hummel's—still holding on tightly to Kurt's hand—the light's down, no music and no people reminded Blaine of the night he'd met Kurt. In the early morning hours of the same empty bar, they talked like old friends instead of strangers. They caught up instead of getting to know each other.

Kurt didn't let go of Blaine's hand until they were in the heart of the bar when he walked over to the jukebox, plugged it in and hit a couple of buttons and a moment later it started playing, soft and low.

"I thought that was just decoration," Blaine told him.

"It is," Kurt said giving it a pat, "But it works."

Blaine nodded listening to the melody from a song long ago while he watched Kurt watch him.

"Sit," Kurt said gesturing to the bar, to the empty stools, "This one's on the house."

As Blaine sat down, Kurt went around the bar and pulled two glasses from the rack.

"Whatareya havin'? What's your go-to drink?"

"Uh, whiskey, I guess. On the rocks."

"Interesting," Kurt said as he proceeded to fill both glasses with ice and then grabbing a bottle behind him, filled both half way.

"Thanks," Blaine said as Kurt handed him his glass.

"Why whiskey," Kurt asked taking a sip from his glass.

Blaine gave Kurt a confused look over the rim of his glass as he did the same, "Huh?"

"There is one thing I've learned about working in this bar for so many years, and that's is that most people have a reason for their go-to drink," Kurt explained, "I know that my father will take a beer over anything else and he says that is because that's what he drank with is dad growing up. I know that when I was a junior in high school Santana and I thought it would be a good idea to drink an entire pitcher of vodka lemonade and now I won't go anywhere near the vodka part of that combination."

Blaine had never really thought about the reason he drank whiskey. He just liked it. But as he thought about it for a moment, he soon realized that the answer…was Cooper.

"Alright. So, if you haven't noticed there are more than a few years difference between Cooper and myself," Blaine started, "So one summer—god, I had to be fifteen—my parents were out of town and despite the fact that I've always been more of an adult than Cooper ever was, he was in charge. There were rules: no girls, no parties, no leaving me alone all night. But Cooper was twenty-two and it was the summer and I think it he was only going to be in town for like a week before he took off on some adventure, and he wasn't about to miss out on the chance to take advantage of an empty house.

"Anyway, I was up in my room, probably reading, and I decided that I wanted something from the kitchen so I wandered downstairs and there were a dozen people in my house. I don't even know if Cooper knew them all. When Cooper spotted me, he handed me a glass, his glass, and told me that it was time I got my first taste of being a man. And then I took my first sip of alcohol, whiskey. I didn't drink any more than night; I don't even think I liked it then. I just went back up to my room. I didn't drink much as a teenager, but most of what I did was with Cooper and it was always the same, a glass of whiskey. I guess it somehow became my thing because it was our thing."

"See. I told you," Kurt said with cocky smirk on his face, "everyone has a reason. And it's almost never because it tastes good."

"So what about you," Blaine said leaning his elbows on the bar, giving Kurt his full attention, "What's your go-to drink. You've only said that you avoid vodka."

"Amaretto Stone Sour," Kurt said, his voice suddenly less bubbly than it had been a moment before, "It was my mom's favorite and when I found out, I made Santana make me one. They've kind of stuck with my ever since. And it's a plus that it just happens to taste like heaven."

"Come sit with me," Blaine said gesturing to the stool next to him. It was vacant and Kurt was so very far away from him.

Blaine smiled when Kurt smiled again, then came around the bar and took the seat next to him, his body turned towards Blaine. Blaine turned himself towards Kurt, their knees beginning to slot together as Blaine pulled his stool closer to Kurt.

"Better," Kurt asked with a playful smile.

"Much," Blaine reached out and took hold Kurt's hand.

The feel of Kurt's hand in his, their fingers entwined, made Blaine feel grounded despite the fact that nothing had felt right since he'd arrived in Lima. Not until Kurt had kissed him at the bonfire, not until they sat close to each other in an empty, dimly lit bar.

"Since you didn't know about the bonfire, I'm going to assume you know nothing about the parade," Kurt asked.

"Bonfires and parades," Blaine said faking astonishment, "You and my brother might want to rethink your definitions of boring."

"Don't worry. After the next couple of days are over, you'll know exactly what we mean."

"Yes, you assume correctly. This is the first I'm hearing of a parade."

"Would you like to watch it with me? I have to work the lunch shift right after, but I have most of the morning off. I could meet you there, we could walk around, make fun of the floats."

It was a simple request but it made everything inside of Blaine dance and his face brightened, "That sounds like fun."

"It can be," Kurt said, "And you'll get to see the float for the bar."

"I'm intrigued."

"Good," Kurt smiled broadly, "So, I'll meet you there. Around 10?"

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Do you know where I'd rather be right now," Kurt asked leaning forward, his voice falling just above a whisper.

"Where," Blaine answered back, gazing candidly at Kurt. His entire body calling out for what he hoped would happen next.

"Here," Kurt said, "Doing this."

This kiss was different from the one they'd shared at the bonfire. That one had been tentative and innocent, testing the feelings they'd both developed over the last few days. This kiss was much, much more. Kurt's lips were hungry for Blaine's as he pulled Blaine by the front of his shirt until they were close enough for Kurt to lean in and close the rest of the distance between them. He smiled when Blaine responded immediately, his hand settling on Kurt's hip, his thumb skimming across the fabric there. Blaine's mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer than Kurt could have imagined. Kurt tasted tentatively with his tongue, and Blaine opened his mouth with a loan moan. Kurt could taste the whiskey on Blaine's lips. It didn't have the bite that it had from a glass, but it still caused a fire to burn within Kurt and he happily got lost in the flames. There was nothing else in the world but Blaine's lips, Blaine's arms, and the pleasurable burn they brought to Kurt's entire body.

"You're intoxicating," Blaine breathed, pulling away from their kiss to rest his forehead against Kurt's.

"You sure that's not just the alcohol?"

"Very," Blaine responded leaning in to kiss Kurt again.

Kurt shifted beneath Blaine's hand—which seemed to be unable to touch one part of Kurt for more than a moment before moving on to discover a new part of him—until he was standing and slotted between Blaine's knees, his arms wrapped around Blaine's neck, his fingers running through the hair at the nape. Blaine pulled Kurt closer, letting out a satisfied moan once Kurt was pressed against him completely. When Kurt pulled away, his breathing was heavy, his lips shifting into a roguish smile, while his eyes exchanged a scorching look with Blaine's.

"Dance with me," he whispered.

"What?"

Kurt pulled back slightly, but remained in Blaine's hold, "I want to dance with you."

"We danced at the bonfire," Blaine said chasing Kurt's lips with his own, capturing them briefly before Kurt pulled away again.

"I know," Kurt reached for Blaine's hand where it was resting against his neck, "But I want to dance again."

It only took a moment before, "okay," left Blaine's lips. Because he wanted nothing more than to give Kurt everything that was in his power to give him. And if it was something as simple as a dance or as grand as the moon, he'd find a way to do it.

So they danced. In the middle of the empty bar—the lights low, the music from the jukebox playing—as they wrapped themselves around each other, swaying along with the rhythm of the music.

Kurt leaned his head against Blaine's as they moved, taking a deep breath, breathing in Blaine like fresh air, letting Blaine fill his lungs as well as his heat with something he hadn't truly felt in so long.

Blaine held Kurt tighter, letting his warmth begin to seep into his body, to begin to defrost the parts of him that had been cold. Kurt was like the start of spring, bringing the world, Blaine's world, back to life when it had been dull and gray for so long.

They danced all night, trading kisses and dancing along to whatever song came on the jukebox. Even once the songs began to repeat. And when the sun came up…they danced some more.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!