Glee 1. The Set Up

A/N: Just another procrastination result. Hah.

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Kurt rubbed his eyes slowly, blinking hard as he stared down at the page in front of him. The reflection of the lights above him shined through his textbook, lulling him into a dreary, sleep deprived state. Slouching down into the comfortable sofa he had situated himself into, he aimed his gaze at his wrist before realizing that his watch was broken, probably lying in a gutter somewhere. Sighing in a long-suffering sort of way, he peered up from his cocoon of everlasting calculus and checked the window of the commons area.

Sure enough, it returned signs of a long, rainy winter night.

Returning his stare to his textbook, he took in yet another "solve for x" before he groaned in frustration and pressed his face into his hands. Finals were approaching fast, yet Kurt felt lost in all things calculus. Certain he would fail despite his previous aptitude for math, he wished he could just go to sleep and wake up in his sleepy class at McKinley High, and be the best in his class again.

After what seemed like an eternity, he separated his fingers to read the problem again. There was only one way to finish his homework, and that was to go full steam ahead. Focusing on the page, he was alarmed to see two shadows he had not seen before on his page, and offered the silent room a startled squeak before whipping his head around to find Wes and David striking a pose behind him, identical grins on their faces.

It had taken a while for them to warm up to him, but once they started, it was like a forest fire from a match.

"Hi, Kurt." Wes grinned evilly, and Kurt raised one fabulous eyebrow at him, trying to regain his dignity.

"We noticed you having troubles." David offered, smiling genuinely. "Calculus?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, his suspicious glare softening somewhat. "How do you guys deal?"

"There's a website," Wes shrugged, playing himself off as cool. "It gives you step by step answers and stuff. Really helpful."

"Did Gabe find that for you?" Kurt asked knowingly, and David reddened.

"Possibly."

Gabe was the computer nerd in their residential hall. He was pretty social, but he was a tech wiz, and the boys often went up to him to get help on homework and such. Kurt had been trying for the past couple of days to get him to dress in better clothes— he had the body structure of the classic model, and if he dressed right, he would have ladies and gentlemen at his feet in an instant— but, of course, Gabe was more interested in T-shirts and jeans when he got out of his uniform.

"Well, you might have to help me find that site, then," Kurt shrugged, shutting his textbook and looking up to them. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing." Wes shrugged casually, glancing at the ceiling. "Much."

"Just bored of our room." David clarified, eyeing Kurt's fast-rising eyebrow. "We thought we'd come out here and talk instead."

"Don't let us keep you from Calc., though." Wes said hurriedly, lowering himself onto the carpet. "We wouldn't want to distract you."

David nodded sagely, sitting down on the floor. "Kerkly's a bitch."

Kurt sighed. Didn't he know it. Professor Kerkly assigned homework loads based on her moods, rather than her lessons. And seeing as the week prior had been _Valentine's_ Day…

Well, she was not a happily serenaded woman.

"Especially since she's not in love," Wes added. "Last year, we had no homework from the big V-day onwards for the whole semester after Professor Wilson asked her out."

"Big V-day for more than one reason," David muttered, and the pair smirked at each other, remembering the scarred expressions of Blaine, who had unfortunately walked in on the two teachers taking a few creative liberties with their off-period whilst trying to retrieve a lost textbook.

"Poor Blaine," Wes pouted, laughing at Kurt's horrified expression.

"Gee, thank you," the junior groaned. "For an image in my mind which will probably not leave me until I undergo about ten years of psychotherapy."

"You think you have it bad," Blaine called as he entered the room. "I'll never be the same."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You big baby."

"Want to kiss it better?" David murmured, and Wes let out a snicker as Kurt and Blaine both turned to glare at the duo.

"Anyways," Wes changed the subject. "They broke up recently, and Professor Wilson's in love with someone else now, so…"

"In _love_ with someone else?" Kurt muttered before he could stop himself, and David nodded confusedly. Looking around, he noticed all of them confused at his statement. Giving them all a weird look in return, he frowned, opening his textbook. "Do you honestly believe that?"

"Why shouldn't we?" David asked, as Kurt proceeded to put his headphones in. He turned when Kurt gave him a "don't-mind-me" wave, and asked Blaine. "Why shouldn't we?"

Blaine nodded amusedly at Kurt as he joined him on the couch. "Kurt doesn't believe in love."

"_What?"_ the pair asked incredulously, whipping around to watch Kurt, who was now engrossed in Calculus more than any healthy boy their age should have been at such a late hour.

"Why?" asked David, outraged.

"I'm not sure," Blaine said, smiling a little sadly. "It may be what he's gone through."

Wes shuddered, shaking his head. "No one should have gone through that." David nodded. Both of them had pestered Blaine for weeks before Kurt finally walked in and heard them. Instead of being upset, he smiled sadly and recounted the whole story before excusing himself to go to his own room. "But that's no reason to give up on love. I don't see why you're not upset by it."

Blaine colored at his friend's sly grins, mumbling something that was inaudible to the pair.

"After all, aren't _you_ in love?" David pretended to swoon, starting to laugh.

"Oh, his eyes—"

"—his hair—"

"—his clothes—"

"—you're in _love_ with him!"

"Hey!" Blaine protested. "I never said that!"

"But you _think_ it."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, pulling out his earphones, and placing them next to him. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing—" Blaine started.

"—except that Blaine's in love, and you somehow don't believe in it!" Wes interrupted indignantly.

"How do you not believe in love?"

"At all?"

"We understand you not believing in _teenage_ love, sure—"

"But completely?"

"Crazy!"

"Ridiculous!" Wes added, raising his eyebrow at David.

"Unheard of!" David retaliated.

"Absolutely maniacal!" Wes glared.

"Ridiculous!" David glared back, and Wes pumped his fist.

"You already _said_ that! I win!" David frowned, and then allowed himself to flop backwards on the floor.

"As much as this word war amuses me, weren't you trying to make a point?" Blaine asked.

"Please," scoffed Kurt, unable to take it anymore; slamming his textbook shut, he turned his gaze to the two giggling morons to his left. "There is no such thing as love."

Wes and David turned to him, smiles escaping their upturned mouths as Blaine looked steadily more amused.

"Kurt!" Wes said, offended. "Of course there is! What about our parents?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, looked at his textbook as if contemplating throwing it at the pair to his left, and thought better of it. Placing it gingerly on the glass surface of the coffee table, he rolled his eyes again. "Wes, your parents are divorced."

Wes frowned slightly before his gaze cleared again. "Oh, yeah!"

"Okay," said David, frowning slightly. "What about my parents?"

Kurt watched him carefully, wondering if it was okay to shatter his friend's daydream quite so early into his life. Deciding that this wasn't the time, he avoided the question. "Listen," he said gently. "Love is like nature's way of fooling people into reproducing. You feel emotional ties, then…" he trailed off, face reddening as he looked everywhere except at Blaine. "…sexual ties, and then _hey, presto! _you have another human. It's a natural aphrodisiac. It's an excuse to be _lewd _and make this planet overburdened with people."

Blaine raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

David paused, looked at Wes, and then looked at Blaine before whipping his head around to stare at Wes again. The pair of them were amazing at silent communication, to Kurt's chagrin, so the diva was getting quite impatient.

"Sounds like _somebody's_ bitter." Wes sang, hopping up.

"Already gone through the _litter_!" David joined in. Kurt wrinkled his nose in partial amusement as Blaine covered his face with his hands. "But regardless of all of the time that you _speeeeent_—"

"You still have nobody who will share your _rent_!" Wes danced around Blaine, ruffling his hair.

"What song are they singing?" Kurt asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the train wreck in front of him. "I don't think I've ever heard it before…"

Blaine peered through his fingers for a second and Kurt's heart swelled. Blaine looked so…young. "They do that," he said sheepishly. "Just kind of…make one up."

Kurt's eyes widened. So this was what Dalton used its extensive literature funds for.

"Oh, you know, you know, you've got no-one waiting, with a smile, at home—"

"You moan, you moan, cause the only way you get to talk, is ontheeeeee _phoooone—_"

"But still can't see, as plain as light, the aaaaangel to your stooooormy _niiiiiight_—"

"Hush, he's waiting, he's waaaiting at the doooor!"

"Hush, he's waiting—"

"—he's waaaaiting—"

"— he's _waiting_—"

"—he's waaaaaiting—"

"—he's waiting—"

The two of them, who had been spinning around in circles and engaging in a positively frightening interpretive dance (which included quite a few glances at the ceiling, but Kurt wasn't really paying attention to that) to accompany their newly created song, clasped hands and sat on either side of Blaine, pushing him back and forth while he quietly tried to decide whether to laugh or lament his friends' lack of brainpower.

Wes sucked in a deep breath, staring pointedly at the ceiling. Kurt, however, was far too transfixed with Wes's antics, and watched as he then proceeded to start the can-can with David, allowing their kicks to speed up with the music as he began to sing, David echoing along—

"Heeeeee's waaaaaaiting—"

"—waaaaiting—"

"—waaaaaaiiiiting—"

"—waaaaiting—"

"—waaaaiiiiting aaaat theeee dooooooooooor!" Wes collapsed on the ground.

"I wrote that song and sang it to my girlfriend, you know." He mentioned after a minute's awkward silence. "Right before we broke up."

"Oh," Kurt said, still assimilating the sheer bizarreness that had occurred in front of him. "What happened?"

"She opened the door and someone else was there."

Kurt snorted. "Not very bright, then."

"No," Wes trailed off thoughtfully.

"The point still stands." David pointed out, and Kurt snorted again.

"The only point I got from that was to avert my eyes and _run_ when Wes breaks out into a song I don't know."

"I thought it was very sweet and nice," David interjected quickly, noticing Wes becoming slightly agitated. Wes relaxed into the sofa. "Anyways, the point is that Mr. Right may be right out that door."

Kurt yawned. "There is no Mr. Right," he intoned sleepily, leaning against Blaine.

"Yes there is," Blaine interrupted for the first time. "And when he and you finally become the Right family, you'll have to eat your words."

Kurt smiled sweetly at him. "Thanks, Blaine," he murmured. "You always know… what to… say…"

Blaine smiled as Kurt fell asleep leaning into him, and pulled him backwards with him so that they, too, were leaning against the couch. After making sure Kurt was comfortable, he glanced up to speak to Wes—

Who was conveniently MIA. Missing. In. Action. Along with his partner in crime, David.

Blaine shook his fist mockingly at the room at large before allowing his head to rest on Kurt's.

"You know, Kurt," he murmured thoughtfully. "I love you. We can't cause a population surge." Kurt shifted slightly, and Blaine smiled before snuggling in closer, drifting off into the same lullaby world of sleep.

Outside, Wes and David peered into the room, watching Blaine and Kurt sleeping quietly by the fireplace, mistletoe over their heads.

"So oblivious," Wes whined, and David only shrugged.

"What can we do," he began, smiling slightly, "except wait?"

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A/N: Thanks for reading! It was kind of OOC but… well, you start somewhere. Leave a review, please !


	2. The Challenge

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I was drowning under work XP Anyways, here it is, mistakes and all.

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Mornings at Dalton Academy were definitely not like mornings at McKinley High. And that, Kurt mused, had nothing to do with his alarm that morning— which may or may not have consisted of Blaine gently brushing his hair off his face and humming a song that sounded vaguely familiar.

But the _amazing_ morning greeting was not what Kurt was referring to at this moment in time.

Dalton had this completely different vibe to it. Unlike McKinley High, which was filled to the brim with zombies from all over town all day, Dalton was like an everlasting party.

It didn't take long for Kurt to realize that what he saw as a spy at the school was a total sham. On the surface, the academy definitely seemed to be filled with strictly studious teenagers, a mind meld of the best and the brightest, and every student with a bright future in some technological industry or another. But as a part of the crowd, Kurt was able to single out small differences.

Half the students didn't wear their ties properly. They had them all over. One even folded it up into a pirate captain's hat. One which, to Kurt's extreme horrification and amusement, Blaine seemed very envious of, if the ruined ties on Blaine's dresser were anything to go by.

At first, Kurt thought it was some sort of joke. An event on Facebook, maybe. But, no.

They just…didn't. And as a strict enforcer of fashion, this shocked Kurt to the very core. Especially when someone started pulling Kurt's tie off absentmindedly, and holding it thoughtfully against different parts of him.

Apparently this male in particular was a little bit handicapped in the mind, though, because Blaine whisked him away from his tie pretty quickly, smiling apologetically, Wes and David laughing hysterically behind a very disturbed Kurt.

Anyway, Kurt digressed.

But the ties weren't so big a deal. Rather, it was just the mood at Dalton, as he informed Mercedes and Rachel (who he had forgiven at this point for pretty much…everything, because, well, she was Rachel. Of course she would make stupid mistakes) at the Lima Bean.

"It's just so…" Kurt trailed off. "Cheerful."

That wasn't quite it, though. Not just cheerful. The whole air at Dalton was so incredibly playful, it was remarkable. In classes like Chemistry, even the teachers were quite lax. And on the occasion that they blew something up (and it wasn't such a rare occurrence these days), their teacher, Professor Williams had burst into a bout of raucous laughter for about ten minutes before waving her students out of the room, tears in her eyes as she watched a singed Wes and a horrified David walk stiffly out, Kurt's eyebrow raised behind them.

Everything at Dalton seemed so carefree, so effortless. Boys didn't stay up till two in the morning studying (except those with cruel math teachers like Kurt), and for the most part, studies, while challenging, weren't overwhelming.

It was just his personal life.

Blaine and Kurt had had a falling out over the existence of love, and now it was just so awkward to be in the same room as him. Kurt felt bad— of course Blaine would think he was some heartless jerk because he didn't believe in love, but how could he? He'd never been in a relationship as a teen, and the only ones he had seen had been rocky at best.

He was perfectly willing to admit that people had _crushes._

Just not to Blaine. For obvious reasons, that was a pool of conversation he was not ready to dip even a toe in.

Matters were, of course, made worse by Wes and David insisting on showing him that love was real. David kept hinting at school-romances and such, while Wes kept nattering about his parents.

Kurt had lost count of how many times he had reminded Wes of the unfortunate separation of said parents.

Mercedes raised her eyebrows at his total lack of information, but let it slide. There were far more pressing topics to address. "Sounds fun, white boy. And how's, um…"

Kurt tinged pink but stared back stolidly, chin on hands. "How's…?"

"Don't play coy with her, bitch!" a voice rang out, and Kurt shut his eyes and allowed his head to drop onto the table in exasperation. Of course. Of course. They had _no_ lives.

"Who's this?" Rachel asked curiously, looking up at a smiling Wes.

"Wes and David." Kurt muttered miserably, gesturing vaguely at their general direction and practically hearing their identical grins. He had been avoiding Blaine since the incident. The conversation. The delusion. The admission.

"Wevid!" another voice rang out in annoyance, and Kurt jumped upright, instantly thrusting his hand to his head to ensure perfect hair before smoothing down imaginary wrinkles. Of course Blaine would be here, too. He looked around frantically, catching all four of his friends looking amused at him, and he stuck his tongue out at them before picking up a random conversation from the middle.

"Well, as I told Professor Williams, Wes was too busy checking out some random girl in his _imagination_ or something—"

"_Kurt!"_ Wes called, annoyed, and David snorted.

"Well, it's true," David countered, and Kurt ignored the pair, staring straight at Mercedes without daring to look around.

"And then Professor Williams started laughing—"

Mercedes raised an eyebrow as Rachel looked confused. Kurt plowed on, his expression as close to supremely unconcerned as he could force it.

"—and we had to evacuate—"

"—Kurt?" Said boy jumped violently and spun around.

"_Blaine! _What a surprise!"

"Oh," Blaine paused. "Hello."

There was a rather pregnant pause. Only Blaine and Kurt felt any strangeness in the silence— Rachel was intrigued, Mercedes was trying her best not to laugh at the sudden conjured image of the pair spitting out tiny pink purses (something she should really go see someone about, because, really, what a strange daydream.), and Wes and David were busy looking smug and trying to communicate silently.

"So." Kurt said stiffly. "Well, I guess I should go."

Blaine looked torn. "Don't go, Kurt."

Kurt glanced at him, ignoring Mercedes's arm-wave-of-indignation. "Why?"

Blaine looked around, and then grabbed Kurt's arm and pulled him along unceremoniously to the counter of the Lima Bean. The girl at the register allowed her eyes to roam over his expression, and wander to their friends, who were watching intently.

"Hey, uh, guys," she said, and they turned to look at her. "If you want privacy," she flicked her eyes over at their friends, who looked out the window innocently at the eye contact. "The sugar station's good."

Kurt eyed her, a small smile on his face as Blaine thanked her and tugged him along again.

"Look, while you are obviously rocking the barbaric caveman look, and kudos for that, I really don't glean any pleasure whilst being dragged away like a helpless piece of meat." Kurt intoned in his famous ice-queen voice, the only give away being the curiosity and warmth in his glasz eyes.

"Look," Blaine pleaded. "Yes, I think love exists. No, you don't think love exists. But I think you need to see it."

"Why?" Kurt asked, folding his arms, and Blaine halted, taken aback.

_Because I love you and you won't believe me otherwise?_ "I—what if you love someone and you don't know it because you stubbornly refuse to accept it? You're a hopeless romantic and you don't believe in love. Seriously?"

Kurt pondered this twisted logic before relaxing. "I suppose I haven't been exposed to anything particularly romantic in teenage circles."

Blaine grinned. "So give me this. A _week_ to prove to you that romance and love are both alive and actually quite common among our peers."

Kurt eyed him. "And if they're not?"

"Then…" Blaine deliberated. "Then…I'll do whatever you want and admit that there is no such thing as love for teenagers for a whole day. But, if I'm right, you have to admit that there is and give it a straight shot and try to find it. And do what I say for a whole day." He watched his friend anxiously.

"Fine," Kurt said. "And why are you doing this again?"

Blaine blushed. "I don't want you to miss out on anything because of your tenacity."

Kurt gazed at him for a full minute before his eyes softened and he smiled encouragingly. "Go on, then," Kurt said. "Prove me wrong."

Blaine was nothing if he wasn't courageous.

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Sorry it's kind of short, but I really needed to set the stage for his whole "Love is real" provey thingie. XD

Anyways, review!


	3. The Morning Jitters

**A/N: **_Oh, my god, guys. Three months. I am so sorry for making you wait so ridiculously long. I was just so overwhelmed (much like Kurt in his Calculus class) because I live in the town/city that originated__Apple__, and if you looked it up on urban dictionary, you'd see how horribly grade and school oriented it is. So then our teachers were like "LETS BOOST OUR STAR TESTING SCORES BY GIVING YOU SHITLOADS OF HOMEWORK CAUSE THAT'S A FABULOUS IDEA!" And we were like, you know, "Shit." And so I haven't really been writing much of anything, not even little songs for Wes and David to sing to traumatized Kurt! So if anyone is still here, reading, I give you a giant hug and a great thank you, and I promise not to make you wait quite that long again, because it's summer break now and I can actually use my laptop for creativity soon. And I hope you haven't already forgotten what's happened in the story so far, because I certainly did. :P _

_So here I am, writing away on my iPhone, and then I will transfer to my laptop when I can, and then it'll be uploaded. I'm trying!_

_Thank you, sorry, I don't own Glee, and let's get this show on the road!__  
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Kurt was on edge. Ridiculously so.

Except it wasn't ridiculous, not really, because he was sharing a room with Drew Jacobson for God's sake, and Drew Jacobson happened to be a certifiable nutcase, with little nutcase friends he kept in his back pocket and only took out when Kurt was resting.

Okay, so maybe that was a little extreme.

Kurt flinched violently, tipping himself to the floor with an unearthly shriek as a tie dripping with some questionable blue-ish liquid flung past his head and into the window next to him. Small clumpy bubbles began to make an appearance before dancing down the glass and dripping onto the window pane. Kurt winced, standing up and yanking a photo frame out of a particularly large globule's path.

"Nice, Drew!" Kurt whirled around suddenly, holding up a threatening finger as he stalked over to Marrit Nichols's particularly-brawny-yet-perpetually-and-strangely-femininely-hunched form. Marrit straightened immediately, leaning almost laughably backwards.

"Do. _Not_. Encourage. This." Kurt threatened, violently poking his roommate's best friend with every implied punctuation mark on the chest. Satisfied, he turned to Drew, who was standing suspiciously close to the door a confusedly sheepish expression on his face as he dropped his left hand hurriedly and transferred his sponge to it.

"Hey Kurt! Nice to see you... awake." he said awkwardly, and made a little wave with his right hand, which was, incidentally, sopping wet and dripping soap all over his bed.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten, a tactic he used quite often when it came to interacting with Finn. "Drew-" he paused, again counting to ten. As he did so, he noticed Drew and Marrit staring at each other worriedly. Ten was bad; twenty was just damn scary. "Firstly, yes, I _am_ awake. I think half of me woke up because in my sleep I detected a rather idiotic process being conceived to clean our shared room, and I _know _the second half woke up as this plan was being put into action. Secondly, what in the name of all that is good, fashionable, and _sanitary_ are you doing? Because I was under the impression that you were supposed to be cleaning our room this month, in a normal, healthy way, much like the way _I_ did _last month_, but clearly I was very, _very_ wrong."

"Cleaning." Marrit said sheepishly.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "What, Bernstein Bear style? Shall I put sponges on your feet, too, so you can slide around on the floor until you inevitably crack your skulls open?"

"You're very eloquent in the morning, did you know that?" Drew mused, turning to Marrit, whose eyes were bugging out in sheer worry for his best friend. "He's very eloquent."

"And scary!" Marrit hissed, eyeing the positively menacing boy standing opposite him.

"Yeah, scary, right..." Drew continued, deep in thought.

Kurt closed his eyes, exhaling softly as he counted yet again to ten. Slowly, he relaxed his jaw and began to walk stiffly towards their shared bathroom.

Marrit stared after the counter-tenor as the door shut with a resounding slam and the shower turned on. "I have no hope whatsoever for your future, Drew."

"Whatever," Drew shrugged. "Let's clean this shit up."

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Warm showers, Kurt decided, were the best invention ever created. Period.

Cold showers were just awful. They left you feeling too awake, and horribly jittery once you were finished, with the added pitfall of feeling even warmer when you stepped out— so if you wanted to wake up, you'd just be more sleepy as a result.

Hot water was damaging on skin and hair, and Kurt could just not have the heat scalding and burning his pores and hair, effectively drying it out.

Yes, Kurt decided, warm showers were the way to go. If Goldilocks had chosen to shower once she had reached the residence of the three bears (which she should have, because no one should go wandering through a forest like some sort of savage and then go into a perfectly nice home and _lay in someone's bed_ with those dirty clothes; really, it was common courtesy towards those bears), Kurt was certain that warm showers would have been the shower of choice. It was a perfect atmosphere for an impromptu concert, and a brilliant host of Super Important Deep Thoughts. Especially when said Super Important Deep Thoughts were Exceedingly Secret Super Important Deep Thoughts. Even more so when those Exceedingly Secret Super Important Deep Thoughts were so Supremely Secret that his own best friend, with whom he shared all manner of Very Secret Deep Thoughts, could not know about them, because they, in fact, included the best friend in question in a Very Supremely Secret way.

Yes, the warm shower was a good place to review said thoughts.

"Kurt?"

A loud crash resonated through the room as many bottles fell to the floor of the tub. Kurt swore loudly, scrabbling to pick them all up as he turned off the water and wrapped his towel around himself. "Drew," he called. "I swear to the sky, the clouds, and the great spaghetti monster that floats around in them that if you just made me drop my fifty dollar per ounce bottle of—"

"Kurt?" A curly head of hair peeked around the door concernedly. "Are you okay? I heard a bang, is your—?"

"Fu—!" Kurt restrained himself with difficulty. "No! Hi, Blaine! I'm not— oh. Um…hi."

Blaine reddened profusely. "Oh, were you…?"

"Yeah," Kurt managed a squeak, wanting to bang his head on the countertop as the undignified syllable left his mouth. "Just, um." Casually, he rested his arm on the counter, shifting his weight to his elbow (not minding the fact that the water on both surfaces made this a very bad idea), and squeezing his eyes shut in a last ditch effort to regain presence of mind. "Not a big deal. Was there anything you wa—!"

Blaine rushed forward as Kurt slipped, catching him before he could hit the ground. "Kurt!"

"I, um, I'm okay." Kurt nodded to himself, eyes still squeezed shut. "Yeah, just. This is why you don't wake me up too quickly." Slowly, he opened his eyes and sucked in a quiet breath.

Blaine was staring at him in obvious concern, his eyebrows scrunched together and his lips curved downwards just a little. Kurt could count every freckle, every eyelash that framed beautiful hazel pools. Suddenly, he became almost painfully aware of Blaine's arm, wrapped around his bare waist strongly, curving around his hip delicately and rubbing lightly there. Kurt shuddered and leaned back slightly, reveling in the feeling of the muscles keeping him upright, and Blaine blinked, his mouth opening a little.

"I just—" he whispered, licking his lips and glancing down at the countertenor's for a split second. "You…"

Kurt chuckled breathlessly. "I think I've been woken up sufficiently," he breathed. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he rejoiced at the regaining of his vocabulary— being reduced to a stuttering pile of dashes was not attractive in the least.

Blaine smiled for a few seconds. "There's the Kurt I know and love."

Kurt made a face.

"Oh, right!" Blaine exclaimed, putting a very disappointed Kurt upright and backing away a few steps. "Love! Yes! The challenge!"

Kurt made another face.

"Don't look at me like that," Blaine smirked. "I'm your mentor. What kind of a mentor would I be if I didn't teach you the basics of life?" He turned and walked out of Kurt's bathroom. "Oh, don't forget!" he yelled back. "Coffee at six this evening! I want to show you something!"

"Hot date?" Wes asked, turning the corner as Blaine emerged from Kurt's room.

Blaine jumped, startled. "Shut up," he grumbled, and continued walking.

Back in the bathroom, Kurt was taking steadying breaths, his arms grasping the sink as he looked at his reflection and remembered Blaine's fingers on his skin.

This wasn't love, or romance, but goodness.

It was strong.

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**A/N:** _That sucked. Royally. I'm so sorry. What happened to me? I used to be able to write._

_Ahhhhh._

_But, yes, school is over. And I got to see Glee Live and I got hot pink sunglasses like Darren Criss's. So yay._

_Review!_


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Glee, Humor, Romance