As this whole story focuses on the things Kurt has always wished for and never experienced...I wanted to take it a little slower so instead of rushing straight to the Ball, I added this chapter.

It's a bit self indulgent, simply because I wanted more of Blaine's feelings. There's less insight in the next Chapter as it tends to break up the pace, but I wanted to write it :D

I hope you still like it. The next chapter focuses on the Ball itself ... I LOVED writing it SO much. I'll post it tomorrow.

Thank you again for your LOVELY comments and messages. They're appreciated SO much. :)

PS: If you couldn't tell from the first part of the Chapter, I bloomin' love Burt. He's awesome.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee in any way shape or form, I just like to daydream and then write about it.

"Carole sends her love."

Kurt smiled, just listening to his dad's voice on the other end of the phone was comforting.

"Aw give her a hug from me will you?" he asked, smiling into his words, "and how's Finn?"

Burt sighed on the other end of the line. "Well, he's a little quieter. Think he's got women trouble but you know Finn, he's thrown himself into Glee and Football, think they're even doing something special for Christmas. He's keeping himself busy. Anyway, how are you kiddo, anything special?"

Kurt lay back on his bed. "Well, my grades are good. I managed to ace my exams except Chem but I guess I've never been one for the boring subjects. I came top of my class in French and Lit so you can be suitably proud." He grinned as Burt clapped loudly into the mic.

"Nice one son. How's the singing group? You got anything planned for Christmas?"

"Well, The Warblers always perform at the Snow Ball, it's their annual party so we have that."

"Oh you have a Ball? Is it something you take a date to?" Burt asked, his voice tentative as always in an attempt to try to say the right thing. Kurt wished his dad was here so he could hug him.

"I don't think it's mandatory that you bring a date but yes, some people have dates."

"And you don't?"

Kurt frowned, cringing slightly. "Daaaaaad," he groaned out.

"Well kiddo, am only asking, there's no reason why you shouldn't have a date. You're a good guy." Kurt felt tears prickle at his eyelashes.

"Thanks dad... really. I guess I don't have a date as such but Blaine asked me if I wanted to go with him."

"Blaine?"

"Yea Dad you remember, you met him when we moved all of my stuff here?"

Burt was silent for a second. "Oh the posh one?"

Kurt laughed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Dad he's not posh, he's just been brought up the right way."

"He a good guy?"

"Yes Dad, he's a good guy, he's honourable and you don't have to worry about me, it's not a date, we're just going as friends."

"Is he, erm, is he into guys too?" Burt asked, Kurt hearing the awkwardness in his father's voice and sighing out of affection. He loved his dad for trying.

"Yes, he's 'into guys' but that doesn't mean he's into me."

"Well why not," Burt spat, "why wouldn't he be?"

"Daaaad, look, I'm not presuming anything. I'm just touched to have been asked to go, it's quite the event."

"Well I'm sure you'll have it all planned out as always. I just want you to enjoy yourself and I like the sound of this kid, Blaine is it? He sounds like a nice kid. You just have fun and be careful."

Kurt all but hugged his phone. "I will dad and remember to give Carole that hug."

"I won't forget."

"And dad?"

"Hmm hmm?"

"I love you."

Burt sighed, his chest filling with pride. "I love you too Kurt, I'll speak to you tomorrow. I want to know everything."

With that, they hung up, Kurt wiping his eyes and choking back tears. Happy tears.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Pavi, I need your advice. Do you prefer the grey or the black?" Kurt asked, holding up both jacket options with a flick of his hip. The bird simply chirped back and hopped onto another perch. Kurt smiled lovingly. "Well, you're no use. It's at times like this that I need to clone myself. I give such good advice."

"You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness?"

Kurt jumped, his heart hammering in his chest, as he took in the silhouette of Blaine by his door.

"Actually, I was talking to Pavarotti, he's quite the conversationalist," Kurt stated matter-of-factly, his eyebrows raised in self importance.

"Oh yes," Blaine murmured, smirking and casting his eyes over to the tiny bird pecking obliviously at his millet, "he seems enthralling." Kurt simply rolled his eyes, letting them focus again on his wardrobe choices. The grey was slimmer fitting and shinier which screamed 'festive' but he knew the black brought out the colour of his eyes and the shade of his hair. The decision was a tough one.

"So, are you all rehearsed?" Kurt asked eventually, noticing that Blaine had settled himself in his usual position on Kurt's bed with his back leaning against the wall. It sent a little pleasurable shiver through him, knowing that they had 'things' ... traditions almost.

Blaine looked up, nibbling his lip a little. "Almost," he said, his voice sounding somewhat uncertain.

"Where's Blaine Thornton and what have you done to him?"

"I'm very much here."

Kurt frowned. "No you're not. You're different." Kurt could see it, the crinkle in Blaine's forehead. He'd entered the room so confident and so... Blaine and now he'd had time to breathe, time to just be. Kurt had only seen it happen a couple of times – the real Blaine. It always happened in their quieter moments when they were in isolation.

"I may," Blaine began, pointedly emphasising the 'may', "be a little bit nervous."

Kurt smiled sweetly, chuckling to himself as he tore his mind away from his outfit. He spoke as he sat on the edge of his bed. "Why are you nervous? You perform all of the time."

"I honestly don't know." He did know. He knew exactly why he was nervous and it had absolutely nothing to do with holding a mic and singing. He'd asked Kurt to the Snow Ball, the biggest and grandest Dalton tradition they had and all had been confirmed in a second. Blaine wasn't stupid. He knew Kurt had never been invited to a dance before, knew that every moment was a first for him and suddenly, around midnight of the previous week, Blaine had started to over-think. He wanted it to be perfect, for Kurt to remember the night for only good reasons and for him to truly enjoy himself.

"Well," Kurt began, ducking his eyes to meet Blaine's, "I have no idea why someone of your talent would let nerves rule their performance. All of the greats fuelled their stage presence with a touch of nerves but you're a natural, you'll be amazing as... always."

Blaine couldn't hold back the smile. He was a killer, Kurt Hummel. Always good with words, the quicker the better and never off the mark. It was then that Blaine channelled himself back in, reminding himself that he had asked Kurt for a reason – he was the person Blaine wanted to go to the ball with. Plain and Simple.

Although it wasn't. The warm sunny feeling in his stomach and the heady dizziness told him otherwise. He asked him because he wanted to make him happy, to show him he was worthwhile and because he wanted to spend as much time in his company as physically possible before Christmas break.

"Thank you," Blaine finally answered, smiling widely to show Kurt he was fine, which he was.

"Pavi might be a great conversationalist but he's not as skilled in the style guru department so, erm do you mind? I can't decide and since I won't want to show up the star of The Warblers, I have a feeling you may have a vested interest." Kurt grinned, jumping off the edge of the bed and displaying both suit jackets.

Blaine smiled, shuffling to face him. "Kurt, I might not be the best person to ask about this, I have two suits. One for the day, one for an evening."

Kurt groaned playfully. "Well just tell me which you prefer and it'll be a step in the right direction."

Blaine studied each for a second. "I can't really say," he added, knowing how cutely impatient Kurt was becoming. It was clear that fashion confusion was not something Kurt took lightly. "Look, put each on and show me." Blaine couldn't tear his eyes away as Kurt obliged, sliding the slim grey jacket over his elegant frame. Blaine could only think of specific words to describe Kurt, ones that he'd never used for potential boyfriends in the past (not that there'd been a lot), and these words were all summed up in one encapsulated adjective – "beautiful". He was, and not in the cheesy sense of the word, in the practical and sensible assessment of Kurt's indescribable beauty. It was real and tangible and something Blaine found mesmerising. His skin. It kept Blaine awake at night at the thought of how soft it must be and how preened and delicate it seemed. His hair, so precise and seemingly soft too, swept up in the most stylish way, a way which Blaine envied. His own hair would sprout legs if it could, it was that unruly at times. Blaine watched as Kurt turned, his arms out to the sides, modelling the first jacket. He had to mentally warn himself to trim back the swoon in his gaze and limit the use of his vocabulary to an appropriate level.

"What do you think?" Kurt asked, his eyes now slightly anxious, "think of it with slim dress pants."

Blaine did not want to think of those slim pants. Especially not as Kurt was the only guy he'd ever met who was capable of pulling off that look to such a standard that Blaine's heart rate doubled instantly every time.

"I like it," Blaine finally spoke, "I like the colour, it suits you."

Kurt sighed dramatically. He'd have been better sticking with Pavi as his resident stylist. Still, there was something so domestic in the moment that he couldn't help but relish in it. The fact Blaine was a pretty terrible dresser only made him more endearing and, something even more irritating, Blaine could pull off whatever outfit he chose, no matter how ridiculous or dorky or utterly clashing. He made it look refined and handsome.

"I need you to be more specific," Kurt urged with a smirk, "does it fit right? Lie correctly? Clash with the colour of the pants?"

Blaine laughed. "I am terrible at this," he said, rising off the bed to stand infront of Kurt, his hand reaching out to tug at the lapels and straighten them down. It was all very de ja vu and Kurt felt it. His skin scorched under his shirt as Blaine preened him in a way which felt fused with meaning – surely Blaine's hands did not need to linger as long as they were.

Kurt sighed, his eyes meeting the other boy's for a second. "You're right, you're terrible," Kurt teased, batting Blaine's hands away lightly. He didn't want to, not really, but he couldn't stand the overwhelming feelings that came with Blaine so close. Not when he was sure he was alone in his heart swooping crush.

"Thanks for the honesty. I do mean it though, this one is good. It's very... you."

Kurt smiled again, his eyes shining that little bit brighter. Blaine noticed it, or more specifically, Blaine's heart noticed it as its pace quickened instantly.

Kurt sighed, diverting his attention. "So," he started, putting his clothes back into his closet as Blaine perched himself next to Pavarotti on the bed once again, "what time does it all begin?"

"Well, how about I come and find you around six thirty and we can make our way down with Wes and David?"

Kurt turned and let a smile tug at his lips. "Sounds good," he replied, hesitating with continuing until he found the words, "and I just wanted to say that I'm really grateful, I mean, I wanted to thank you for asking me to go with you. It was nice to be asked, it's kind of never happened before. Thank you for doing it so I didn't miss out."

Blaine couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was all wrong.

"I didn't ask you because I didn't want you to miss out or because you'd have to go alone," he explained, moving across the room again towards Kurt and stopping just infront of him, "I asked you because I wanted your company and I wanted you to go with me... and," he stopped for a second, his fingers reaching out to hesitantly smooth down Kurt's collar, "there's absolutely no need to thank me. The pleasure's mine."

With those words and a stare so intense Kurt could feel it warm his skin, Blaine smiled, turned and left the room. Kurt couldn't breathe. He reached up to touch the material of his jacket without thinking, simply to brush his fingers over the spot where Blaine had touched. He closed his eyes, regulating his intake of air, and felt his skin thaw. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to Blaine's fondness for touching people, shoulder bumping, patting, cuddling, leaning, stroking and generally being tactile. It wasn't what Kurt was used to. It was addictive and thrilling as well as being so personal, making him feel cared for and noticed. Kurt realised he hadn't moved, his hand still lingering in the space that Blaine had inhabited, so he peeled off his jacket, hanging it delicately, and collapsed onto his bed with one single aim – to document and memorise every feeling, every emotion and every single second of the exchange before he spent the entire night with Blaine and his mind, as he entirely expected, turned to mush.