Skank!Kurt and nerd!Blaine again :D Pre-relationship, and, um, let's pretend they're not in Ohio for this one.

Lying in the Sun

Kurt lies down in the middle of the sward. He doesn't really care if the people sitting around him are looking; he's grown past that fear around the time he dyed his hair pink. He lays his head on his backpack and closes his eyes.

He actually kinda hopes he'll earn some freckles from this; he would never admit it out loud, but he knows it's only because Blaine told him they look nice.

Ugh. Why does Blaine's opinion even matter? He's not exactly the one to take beauty advice from, with all of his nerdy sweaters and glasses and bowties, for god's sake, primary-colored bowties with polo shirts, Kurt cringed. They are Blaine's favorites, and certainly belong in the last century.

That's not to say Blaine isn't beautiful, though. Oh, Blaine is so beautiful. Even Kurt Hummel, proud Skank that lacks of fucks to give, has the hots for that perfect, perky ass.

And those eyes that made him blush every single time he looked at them, framed with those long, seductive eyelashes… And his pink, puffy lips that he pursed when he was focused; Kurt keeps imagining how they'd look post-blowjob, swollen and even darker-

He stops thinking about it, knowing he'd have to roll over to hide a boner and while a little grass in his hair was bearable, it was not touching his actually face. He breathes, and relaxes his overwrought body.

A shadow blocks the sun suddenly, and he opens his eyes, annoyed, but when he's met with a lovely smile and sparkling eyes, his anger melts away.

"Hi, Kurt. What are you doing?" asks Blaine.

Kurt huffs. "Lying in the sun."

Instead of going away like Kurt expected, Blaine sits down next to him, cross-legged with his massager bag (the only accessory of Blaine's that Kurt appreciated) in his lap. Kurt forces his gaze up from said lap, and his mind out of the gutter.

"Your face is a little red," Blaine says, smiling his stupid little smile. Kurt blushes even further.

"I've been lying here for a while."

"Oh. You should go inside then, it'd be a shame if you got sunburned. Were you ditching class?" he asks, not unkindly. No, Blaine Anderson is never unkind.

Kurt closes his eyes; he'd keep staring at Blaine, but the sun is too bright and he forgot his sunglasses at home. "Maybe."

"Alright. Well, do you want to go get lunch?" Blaine's tone is hopeful.

Kurt's stomach flutters, but… "No, I'm not hungry." A.k.a., I don't eat.

He feels Blaine's eyes on him, and for some reason he knows that it didn't fool Blaine, that somehow he noticed. "Okay. Can I lie here with you?"

"Y-yeah."

Blaine sets his bag aside and lies back, his head close enough to Kurt's that he can hear the grass being squished under him.

"So how was your dad's birthday?"

When did I tell you about it? Why do you remember? "It was okay. A lot of people I don't actually know from Carole's side were there."

"And did you get along?" his voice is casual, but shaking a little for some reason.

"Um, well- oh!" he jumps a little when he feels weight pressing his hand down against the grass, and his eyes shoot open only to find it was Blaine's hand, gently touching his.

And he does the stupidest thing possible.

He takes Blaine's hand, and intertwines their fingers.

Then, not daring to look at Blaine's face, he closes his eyes and turns his head towards the sun again. "They were okay, mostly. This one aunt, though, you won't believe what she told me…"