9

Don't Blink

Kurt woke slowly, his senses assaulted with familiar cologne, a warm body breathing deeply beside him. He smiled to himself, nuzzling deeper into Blaine's shirt, content.

Blaine stirred at his movements, eyes peeking just enough to see Kurt before he closed them again, squeezing him closer, wanting to stay there and hold him for as long as possible.

"Hi," Kurt whispered, stifling a shiver as Blaine absently stroked his bare arms.

"Hi," he smiled. "I don't wanna move." Kurt's smile grew at the confession, his face still resting in his chest.

"Then stay here," he whispered. Blaine obliged happily, gently lifting his chin to kiss him. Kurt sighed, moaning quietly at the touch of his skin.

"You okay?" Blaine chortled.

"I'm just not used to that," he breathed. "And…and I'm really sensitive." He frowned, sitting up a little.

"What do you mean?" He asked, curious. Kurt blushed.

"Because I can't see, I…I'm a lot more sensitive to, to touch than everyone else. My skin, my lips and my fingertips are really…" Blaine stroked his neck, testing waters, lips a breath away from him.

"So, how does this feel?" He wondered. Kurt swallowed.

"Um, uh…not bad," he said softly, voice shaking a little.

"So," Blaine continued, thumbing soft, tentative circles where his shoulder met his arm. "Does that mean your tongue's sensitive too?"

"Uh huh," he said, voice even quieter.

"So what does this do?" He whispered, connecting their lips with hard fervor, shamelessly sliding his tongue past his lips, holding his back to steady him. Kurt did his best not to whimper, turning to jelly in his hands. He let his own tongue tangle with his, the piercing touching the sensitive cells, making him tremble harder. Blaine's hands gently stroked the back of his neck and his arms, his fingertips swirling his skin. Kurt felt every breath and tiny miniscule movement Blaine made in these moments, every sensation totally new and beautiful. Everything was so hot, the air thin and God, why was his chest so tight? His lungs were on fire and-

"Kurt, breathe," Blaine said huskily, smirking. He gasped, smiling, blushing, embarrassed. Blaine chuckled catching his lips again, marveling at how soft Kurt was and how wonderful a kisser he was. "You've never been kissed before?" He blurted, simply marveling at him.

"Never," he breathed. Blaine crushed their lips together again, his heart jumping when Kurt kissed him back with incredible fervor, those baby-soft hands cupping his cheeks and keeping him close. He felt the stubble on his chin burn in an incredible way against his skin, his lips swelling again and he hoped they'd ache just as they had when he woke up this morning.

Someone knocked. "Kurt?" They froze.

"Shit."

"Kurt, you up yet?"

"Uh, yeah, Dad!" He called back, scrambling off the bed and tugging Blaine along with him. "Just a second, I'm getting dressed!"

He shoved Blaine toward the closet as noiselessly as possible. "The closet, hide in my closet!" He hissed when Blaine didn't fully understand what was happening. He shut the door with a quiet snap, quickly flying out of his sweats and wriggled into a pair of jeans before flying into the stool in front of his vanity, hastily applying moisturizer to his cheeks before calmly saying, "Come in!"

"Hey," Burt said, stepping inside. "I was just comin' to tell you that Carole and I are heading to her folks' place with Finn now and I wanted to make sure you didn't need anything."

"No, I'm alright," he said, smiling at him. "Thank you, though."

"Someone's feeling better," Burt remarked, chuckling softly. Kurt shrugged.

"I'm an adolescent, Dad. Our emotions change faster than Midwestern weather," he chuckled. Burt smiled.

"Well I'd better get going, then," he said, heading for the door. He paused mid-turn, seeing an unpleasantly familiar leather jacket hung up beside the door. "Kurt," he said, seriousness in his voice. "Who's jacket is this?"

Kurt paled only slightly, but kept the fear out of his voice as he spoke. "The red one?"

"No, the leather one that smells like smoke and gas," he said, a low growl in his voice.

"Oh, Blaine let me borrow it. I got cold the other night and he let me wear it," he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone.

Burt frowned, tossing the jacket onto his bed. "I thought you were done with this kid?"

"And I thought you were okay with me dating him?" He challenged, face tight, lips pursed and spiteful. Burt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I am, I just…I still don't think it's a good idea. I mean, look at the way he's treating you-"

"Dad, you don't-"

"I know, I don't know him. You've told me that every time he comes up. But you know what you haven't told me? Why exactly you want to be around him in the first place. From what I've heard he's nothing but a punk. The guys around the shop said-"

"Dad!"

"You have your friends and I have mine. All I'm asking is why you're even bothering with a kid that has a juvenile record that's literally a mile long?" He demanded. Kurt took a deep breath, knowing that Blaine was only a few feet away, hearing his father say all of this and about to hear his response. He swallowed, forcing himself to pretend he wasn't there so he didn't weigh every word that came out of his mouth.

Just say precisely what you think, he thought, swallowing his heart and using the courage he'd gained from Blaine's kisses before he spoke.

"He…he's nice to me. I know that it's only to me, but that's the only thing that matters. He's sweet, he's smart, he makes me laugh, he makes me smile. He's got this hard outer shell, yeah, but once you get underneath it he cares so much. I know he doesn't like to show it, but God, he's just so kind. He acts the way he does because he's scared of something. I don't know if it's showing his emotions, or something at home, or if he's just mad at the world but he treats me like I'm the whole world. I like the way I feel when I'm with him and I…" He looked at his hands. "I'm happy when I'm with him, Dad. And I think…I think the only reason that you and everyone else that doesn't like him treats him the way you do is because you can't see him the way I can."

Burt pursed his lips, looking from his son to the jacket. "Does he really make you happy?"

"Yeah, Dad, he really does." He continued moisturizing his cheeks. Burt sighed, patting his shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" He said. Kurt nodded.

"Bye, Dad."

From the closet, Blaine watched the father go before he went back to staring at Kurt's back, positively dumbstruck. He waited until the sound of the Hummel's SUV firing up, the engine sound dying away as they took off before stepping out, coming up behind him.

Kurt didn't move, his heart thudding too hard for him to really move. He didn't mean to say all of that out loud. He'd barely admitted and understood half of that himself, let alone say it right in front of Blaine. The fear of his father finding him hiding in his room had been completely overshadowed by this. He breathed slowly, breathing shallow, afraid of what was about to happen.

"Kurt?" Blaine said when he was close enough, kneeling beside the chair. Kurt turned to face him, his heart thundering. "Did you really mean all of that?" He nodded, unable to speak. Blaine stared at him, shaking his head.

"What are you thinking right now?" Kurt breathed, gently cupping his face to try and get an idea.

"I just…" He looked away from him, not meeting Kurt's eyes. "No one ever wants to give me a chance, Kurt. No one gives me the time of day. They either ship me off to some school that's supposed to teach me manners or throw me in Juvie again. And you said…" He chewed his lip, still not looking at him despite that he couldn't see him.

Kurt, however, felt his cheek grow warm in his hand and he stifled himself from smiling, knowing he would only make matters worse. Blaine wasn't one to bare his feelings like this and he didn't want to scare him away from it.

"And I said…?" He urged softly.

"You made it sound like you'd give me that chance," he whispered. Kurt leaned down, gently pecking his lips.

"Why do you think I let you come over here? Or let you take me to dinner? Or let you drive me on that wonderful motorcycle of yours?" He smiled. Blaine looked at him, wishing he was brave enough to fully tell him how he felt.

"Why didn't I meet you sooner?" He blurted, flushing and turning away from Kurt's hand once he did. Kurt chuckled, his beautiful eyes staring at nothing.

"I don't know," he whispered. Blaine's hand came up to cup his cheek, leaning his face close, nose barely brushing against his neck, lips a breath away. Kurt cleared his throat loudly, standing too fast and knocking over the chair. His blush deepened. "Uh, um, are you hungry?" He stammered, beyond flustered. Blaine stood with him, still smiling.

God, he's beautiful, he thought happily. "Yep." Kurt smiled.

"Alright. Is pancakes okay?" Blaine cocked his head.

"You can make pancakes?" He wondered. Kurt giggled.

"Is everything I do a blind-boy pet trick?" He teased. Blaine grinned.

"No, you just keep surprising me."

"Damn, these are good," he smiled. Kurt grinned as well, pouring a glass of milk. Blaine watched curiously as the milk rose to the tip of Kurt's finger, which was rested about an inch inside the glass before he slid it to Blaine.

"Thank you," he said happily, sitting down to his own plate. Blaine looked around the kitchen. His whole house was simply a marvel, full of things that Blaine hadn't known existed.

For starters, everything was organized. Even the furniture had tape mapping out where the legs needed to go, just in case something got moved. The numbers on the stove were raised so Kurt could read them, the words in Braille stickers that had been printed with a special label maker and the same could be said for the microwave. When he peeked at the bookshelf he found several books in Braille and even more on tape or disk, sorted alphabetically and perfectly.

"Can I ask you something?" He said, leaning on his hand lazily.

"Is this blind questionnaire?" He asked, smirking.

"No, just one question," he assured. "How do you dress so wonderfully?"

Kurt blushed. "I have my closet organized very specifically and…" He showed him the inside of his sweater, revealing a small button shaped like a butterfly. "I use them to organize my clothes. By color, fabric and season, of course." He grinned, and Blaine smiled right back. God, he loved this feeling.

"You're amazing," he sighed, smiling softly. Kurt blushed.

"Thank you."

They spent the whole day together, watching movies, listening to music and talking about everything and kissing. Lots, and lots of kissing.

Kurt was seated in Blaine's lap, legs stretched to the rest of the couch, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers running through his beautiful, thick curls. Blaine's nimble fingers were clenched the fabric of his shirt, wondering if the rest of his body was as soft as his lips.

"I'm gonna kiss your neck," he warned. "Don't freak out."

"Oh-okay," he gasped, swallowing hard. He moaned, biting his lip when Blaine's tentative lips teased his neck, his fingers gently grazing his collarbone. God, this was all so new and, and ohhh he didn't know his neck could feel like that. "Slowslowslow, oh, Blaine, slow down…"

"Sorry," he breathed. "Sorry, you're just gorgeous and you taste so damn good."

"Mmph!" His teeth dragged across his lower lip, feeling Blaine bite ever-so-gently on his skin before kissing behind his ear again.

"Are you okay?" He chuckled. Kurt let out a breathy laugh, eyes still closed as he leaned into his lips.

"No, no, I'm not okay," he breathed. "I'm incredible and I- ah…" Blaine was sucking now, gently. "I've just never felt this way before!" His eyes fluttered closed again. Blaine was getting braver, his hands sliding down his shoulders, on his back and slid down to squeeze his plump, firm flesh.

In an instant, Kurt was standing as fast as he could, backing away just a little. Blaine stared, heart skipping, knowing that he'd just crossed a boundary.

"I'm sorry!" He said instantly.

"It…it's okay," Kurt sighed, slowly calming himself down, breathing hard. "I just…I told you, I've never been touched like that before and…" His cheeks were red. "I liked what we were doing, but…I can't let it go too far, okay? Exposing myself to someone like that really scares me." He was even redder when he realized what he'd said…aloud. Blaine stood slowly, stepping toward him to take his hand.

"It's alright," he nodded, cupping his cheek. "I shouldn't have…I didn't-"

"It's okay," he said shyly. Blaine pressed their foreheads together again, smiling softly.

"So…where were we?"

"Blaine, it's dawn, my parent's are gonna be home soon," Kurt whispered, head rested against his chest. Blaine sighed, smiling gently.

"Alright, alright, I'm leaving," he said, kissing his forehead and his lips one more time. "I guess the real world is sick of being ignored." Kurt smiled back, still sleepy. Blaine chuckled, carefully sliding out of the bed so he didn't disturb him much. He slid his jacket over his shoulders before kissing him one more time.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised.

"Text me," Kurt mumbled, returning the lazy kiss.

"Get some sleep first," he warned, opening the window and hopping through. "Bye, Kurt."

"Bye, Blaine," he grinned. He snuggled against the pillow Blaine had been resting against; it smelled like him. He giggled without being able to help it, getting whisked away to sleep, dreaming of leather, bubblegum and burning stubble.

His hands shook as he dialed the phone, waiting as it rang, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Wes," his voice was raspy. "Hey, I'm not gonna be able to make it to practice. I've been puking all day and I feel like shit."

"Damn, you stay put," Wes spat. "Keep your diseased ass at home. Call me when you get better, man."

"Yeah, will do." He ended the call before sending a text to Kurt. Can't see you today. I'm sick. See you soon. Goodnight. "There," he said softly.

"Give me the phone, faggot." Blaine looked up at his father, handing it to him, still trying not to tremble. He grunted when an iron fist came down on his jaw, knocking him back onto the bed. He grabbed a fistful of his curls, bringing his face close. "Don't you ever, ever leave for that long again, do you understand me?"

"I told you, I was with-"

More pain. Another beating that left his nose bleeding, lip swelling rapidly, ribs aching. "YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU WERE DOING? YOU WERE FUCKING SOMEONE!" Another punch. "You were taking it up the ass like the FAGGOT YOU ARE!" Blaine was breathing hard, his breath hitching, still unable to look away from the man with a vice grip on his hair.

"You stay here until you've learned your lesson," he spat, throwing his son down again, grinning when his head bounced off the wall behind him.

Blaine waited until he was sure he was gone before collapsing, weary, beaten body breaking him down enough to let him cry almost silently into his pillow. The dog-chain tied around his wrists rattled as his body shook.