#kurtsies

“Sam, oh my God,” Blaine said to his phone one morning. He had just received the most ridiculous looking selfie possible of his best friend, startling him so much that he almost choked on the sip of coffee he’d taken from his travel mug. “Why?”

Blaine double-tapped the screen to reply and started maneuvering as subtly as possible to find a good angle without making it too apparent that he was taking a selfie in public. He was so preoccupied with finding a good angle that would minimize the shine from his hair gel that he forgot to look where he was going, causing more than one person to grumble curse words at him as they dodged out of his way at the last minute.

“Sorry, sorry, I - mmph!”

Blaine’s frantic apologies to the people around him were cut off unexpectedly by another pair of lips running into his own and two phones clattering to the ground. He stepped back as soon as he could regain control of some higher brain function, wrapping his hands around the other person’s (very well-toned, holy crap) upper arms when he felt their body start to lose balance.

“Thanks,” the man said, flushed bright pink but smiling down at Blaine.

“Uh - you’re welcome,” Blaine said, temporarily forgetting English at the sight of the man’s gorgeous face. “I mean, we’ve already gotten to first base, so I suppose it’s the least I can do, right?”

The man laughed, sending Blaine’s pulse soaring. “And they say chivalry is dead.” He bent down and scooped up their phones, handing Blaine’s back to him and asking, “That still work?”

Blaine tapped the home button and smiled when the screen lit up normally, noticing a slight crack along the bottom but nothing that would make it unusable. “It’s a little dinged up, but it’s not a problem. Yours?”

“I’m going to need a new case, but the phone itself is fine,” the man said, flashing a scuffed skull-print case. “Thankfully.”

“Ooh, that’s unfortunate, though. Your case now is so McQueen-esque,” Blaine said, frowning sympathetically. “Or is it really McQueen? I don’t really shop there myself, clearly, so I don’t know what their accessory range is like.”

“Just an homage, but nice eye,” the man said, smiling appreciatively. “I’m Kurt.”

“Blaine.” He stuck out his hand to shake Kurt’s, hoping he suppressed the shiver that ran up his spine as they made contact. “And, uh, sorry about earlier.”

“What? No, it was my fault,” Kurt said, confused. “I was busy trying to take a flattering selfie for Snapchat and totally wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Ditto,” Blaine said sheepishly. “Glad to know I wasn’t alone there.”

“You were having trouble finding a good angle? Seriously?” Kurt asked before blushing a deep red. “Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.”

“If it helps, I had the same thought about you,” Blaine offered, rubbing Kurt’s arm gently right above the elbow.

“Funnily enough, it does help,” Kurt said, getting a sly grin on his face. “Because now I feel more willing to ask if you might like to have dinner with me tomorrow. We can discuss selfie poses or something.”

“I’d like to think I have more than that in my conversational arsenal, but yes,” Blaine said, smiling broadly. “I would love to.”

“Great!” Kurt said, bouncing gently on his toes and looking far too damn cute for Blaine to handle. “Here.”

They traded phones and put in their numbers before sharing a somewhat reluctant goodbye, as Blaine needed to get to the bus shelter and Kurt was close to missing his train. Blaine couldn’t help but send a quick snapshot of himself to Kurt once he was seated, though, with the caption Is this angle flattering enough? ;)

It would look better with me there. ;)

Maybe we can take one tomorrow night. Seems like this whole thing started because of selfies, you know.

Fine, but with one caveat: it has to be good enough for Instagram.

That’s a lot to live up to.

I think we can do it.

____________________

Kurt’s prophecy was spot-on: they uploaded photos of their date that were a hit among their friends, who all called the pics the cutest things they’d ever seen.

Or, well,  they did for a year or so, until Blaine decided to pop the question by reenacting their first meeting with a far more intentional kiss and a drop to one knee. The photos of that moment were impossible to beat.

____________________

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kurt asked, frozen in disbelief. “This has to happen now?”

He ran his towel over his body once before shrugging into his plush bathrobe and throwing on some flip flops. Dorm keys firmly in hand, he started joining his fellow residents in a mass exodus, feeling his hair drip down his forehead with every step.

None of his roommates were nearby, so Kurt moved off to the side once he was outdoors and out of the “danger zone,” arms folded over his chest in displeasure. A few other residents gave him sympathetic looks, but he just glared back, his earlier grumpiness coming back in full force at his predicament, and they all turned away quickly.

One boy, however, was not so easily deterred.

“You too, huh?” he asked, coming to stand next to Kurt in the pool of light from the parking garage across the street from their dorm. The bright fluorescents made the beads of water clinging to his face and neck starkly apparent, and Kurt cracked a slightly grudging smile.

“Could they have picked a worse moment?” Kurt replied, trying not to stare at the droplets hanging on the other man’s jaw.

“Something tells me this wasn’t a planned drill,” the man said, gesturing to the cluster of confused-looking RAs near the main entrance.

“Someone was just trying to hotbox?” Kurt asked, anger rekindling yet again. “Oh my God, I thought there was a minimum GPA requirement to get into this school, how did someone who can’t even figure out how to smoke competently get in?”

“It could’ve just been a cooking mishap,” the man said, tone much pleasanter than Kurt’s. “You never know.”

“I’m sorry, have you met some of the people who live in this building? It was a stoner,” Kurt said, shooting the other man a judgmental look.

“I actually haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to anyone but my roommates yet,” the man said, unfazed. “I’ve been so busy with classes and extracurriculars that I haven’t been around the dorm much. My name’s Blaine!”

“Kurt.”

“Kurt,” Blaine repeated, smiling up at him. “Care to tell me more about yourself, Kurt?”

“Musical theatre junior. You?”

“Vocal performance sophomore, but I’m considering a minor in acting,” Blaine said. “We’re kind of on the same path, I’m surprised we haven’t seen each other before.”

“I don’t do extracurriculars here,” Kurt explained. “I’ve got a job and an internship, so that eats up all my free time. What do you do?”

“I’m in the student-run theatre group!” Blaine said, an excited sparkle lighting up his pretty hazel eyes. “We’re having a meeting tomorrow to decide what show we want to put on this semester. Hopefully it’ll be just as fun as Sweeney Todd was last semester.”

“Oh my God, you were in that? I went to go see it with my friend Rachel and we were both swooning over the staging,” Kurt said. He clasped his hands together in front of his chest and begged, “Tell me everything about what it was like!”

Blaine eagerly launched into a recap of the drama behind the drama, answering any questions Kurt had and engrossing him so much that he didn’t even notice when everyone started heading back inside after the all-clear. What he did notice, however, was Blaine’s warm hand coming up to touch his arm.

“Hey, I think we can go back in,” he said, nodding toward the door.

“Oh! Wow, that was a quick fire drill,” Kurt said, surprised.

“I’m not complaining,” Blaine said, making Kurt’s heart plummet momentarily until he continued, “I think my feet are going numb.”

“Fuck, it is cold,” Kurt said, suddenly aware that the late September weather was not conducive to being soaking wet outside at night. “I might have to forego my dessert for some hot chocolate. Would you...care to join me?”

“Really?” Blaine asked, a shy smile spreading across his face.

“I was really enjoying our conversation,” Kurt said, returning the smile. “And, you know, the whole point of living in the dorms is to meet new people.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point. Give me a minute to throw on some real clothes and I’ll meet you at your place? Where do you live?”

“I’m in 206,” Kurt said. “You?”

“I’m down in 222, conveniently enough,” Blaine replied. “I guess that means we can walk back up together.”

“I could be okay with that,” Kurt said, and they began the trek back inside, not noticing that they were somehow holding hands until they had to turn opposite directions to reach their respective rooms from the stairwell door. “Oh God, I didn’t-”

“Me either,” Blaine said, talking over Kurt a little. “But I’m not mad.”

“Me either,” Kurt said, smiling tentatively at Blaine.

“See you in five?”

“Are you trying to sell me drugs while we’re literally sitting in a government facility?” Blaine asked, leaning as far away as his tiny, unbalanced chair/desk would allow. He was mostly certain that a man this pretty wouldn’t be a drug mule, but he was still on edge after his panicked train of thought and had seen a few too many Lifetime movies recently to be completely trusting.

“Wh- no,” the man said, brows furrowed in an expression Blaine could only classify as ‘judgmental confusion.’ “It’s about my eye color.”

“Huh?” Blaine said, ever eloquent.

“I never know how to answer that question,” the man explained. “And I’m kind of perpetually afraid of being arrested for identity theft if a cop thinks my eye color doesn’t match what my license says.”

“So you’d like me to…?”

“Look at my eyes and tell me what color you think they are?” the man said, wincing away slightly. “I know, it’s a little weird, feel free to say no if it’s too much!”

“No, I don’t mind,” Blaine said easily. “I mean, it’s not a question I tend to expect, but in the grand scheme of things, this cannot possibly be the weirdest question I’ll ever be asked.”

“Thank you,” the man said, visibly relieved. “Uh, here, let me get a little closer to the window.”

He got up and walked across the office to the row of windows that lined the front, giving Blaine a full view of his muscular yet slim body for the first time.

Blaine had to swallow hard before moving to follow him.

“Oh, I’m Kurt, by the way,” the other man - Kurt - said once Blaine was closer. “Just thought you should learn my name before we gaze tenderly into each other’s eyes.”

Blaine snorted gently before saying his own name, earning a stunning smile from Kurt. “You ready?”

“Lay it on me,” Kurt said teasingly. He stood still by the window, about an arm’s length from Blaine, giving him a perfect view of his eyes.

Blaine suddenly understood why Kurt could never pin down an eye color.

At first glance, Kurt’s eyes were blue, rivaling the sunny sky outside in intensity. As Blaine looked closer, however, he saw swirls of green near Kurt’s pupils, rings of gray along the outside rim of the irises, and even a couple tiny flecks of gold that drew Blaine’s own eyes upwards to the echoing subtle highlights in Kurt’s brunet coif.

He couldn’t help but scan over the rest of Kurt’s face at that, noting barely-there freckles smattered along his nose and cheeks before zeroing in on his loosely pursed pink lips.

They stood there staring at each other for God only knew how long before the sound of an employee dropping her stapler on the ground and cursing vigorously snapped them out of their haze.

“Wow,” Blaine said softly, unable to help himself.

Kurt sucked in a shaky breath, looking faintly rattled. “Did you manage to decide on a color?”

“Um, my first impression was blue,” Blaine said, trying to figure out how to put Kurt’s eyes into words. “But there was also green and gray and even gold - I’m not surprised you’ve never been able to know for sure what answer to put down.”

“You saw gold in my eyes?” Kurt asked. “Funny, that’s the overwhelming impression I got from yours.”

“You thought my eyes were multicolored? I’ve always thought they were a pretty basic hazel,” Blaine said, surprised.

“Basic? Hardly,” Kurt said. “I felt like I kept seeing the colors shift every time you switched focus.”

“Would you maybe like to continue monitoring each other’s eye colors over dinner some time?” Blaine said rapidly, almost unaware of what he was doing. He didn’t want to assume there was a connection when there wasn’t - not after the Gap Attack, as his high school buddies called his most embarrassing moment - but something about Kurt made him want to learn more, and he couldn’t let that desire go unexplored.

Kurt’s eyes widened for an instant before he replied, “Yes. Yes, that sounds wonderful, Blaine.”

“Really? I mean, great, that sounds great, when are you free?” Blaine said, hoping he didn’t sound overeager.

“I was planning on grabbing brunch after getting my license changed over, if you’d care to join me,” Kurt said. His voice was shy, but his eyes sparkled with hope, distracting Blaine all over again.

“Brunch would be lovely,” Blaine said, coming back to himself. “Um, why are you getting your license changed?”

“I just moved here from Ohio for school,” Kurt said. “Now that I have a permanent address in Bushwick, I needed to get my license updated.”

“You’re from Ohio?” Blaine repeated. “I’m from Ohio. I’m starting college too.”

“You’re kidding,” Kurt said, looking surprised yet pleased. “How much more can we have in common?”

Bringing Blaine’s wrists together above his head and holding them down with just one hand, Kurt slides a palm down Blaine’s side, fingers digging in lightly--and that doesn’t feel so ticklish anymore, no, now it’s making Blaine aware of where’s he feeling rather alert in other places. He grabs the bottom of Blaine’s shirt, rucking it up his chest all the way to his shoulders.

Blaine can feel his breath coming fast, his fingers stilled where they had been twitching in Kurt’s hand. Then Kurt meets his eye, gives him a wicked grin, and leans down to blow a huge raspberry on Blaine’s chest.

Blaine shrieks, kicking his feet, but Kurt holds him down well, blowing another right over his sternum, making Blaine start wriggling and squirming again. He can see Kurt smiling against his stomach as he works his way down, blowing raspberries all over his tummy, planting a huge one right over his happy trail--oh God--

Suddenly Kurt stops, breath ghosting over the top of Blaine’s waistband, and looks up at Blaine through his eyelashes.

The wave of arousal that goes through Blaine is like an electric shock. Kurt’s tongue passes over his bottom lip, wetting it, and Blaine feels the tip brush his skin. Kurt’s gaze is steady, clear. Blaine nods shakily.

Kurt sucks in a deep breath and lets go of his wrists--Blaine doesn’t even question keeping his hands up there--sliding his palms over Blaine’s bare torso and nosing along his waistband. Blaine can feel his breath through his capris, right over where he’s straining at his zipper. With precise movements, Kurt flicks open the button of his pants and drags down the zipper, the sound loud amidst their panting breath in the wide space of the loft.

He tucks his fingers into Blaine’s waistband, easing his pants down his hips. Blaine lifts his ass up so that Kurt can pull them off properly and toss them on the floor.

He’s left lying there in his underwear, shirt still rucked up around his hard nipples and chest shining with the wet patches where Kurt’s mouth had been. Kurt shuffles backwards, running his hands up Blaine’s calves and over his thighs, stopping where they met his dark blue briefs and looking up at Blaine through clouded eyes.

“Okay?” he asks, and his voice is rasping, filled with desire; Blaine nods quickly and flexes his fingers.

Kurt mouths over his clothed cock, running his nose up the length of it in his briefs, following with his fingers and catching them in the waistband. “Gonna take these off now,” he breathes, and Blaine chokes out some form of answer, his words getting stuck in his throat.

More urgent now, Kurt pulls his briefs down his thighs, eyes widening when Blaine’s heavy cock springs back onto his belly, already leaking a thin trail of precome over the head. Blaine sucks in a breath, needing friction now.

Kurt takes him in hand and starts to jack him off, slowly at first, then speeding up when Blaine can’t stop himself from letting out a low-pitched whine.

“Please, Kurt, need--need your mouth on me,” Blaine moans, eyes slipping shut at the way Kurt’s fingers flick over the head of his cock.

He feels the bed move and suddenly Kurt’s hot breath is right there over the base of his cock. He whines again as Kurt licks up the side of it, swirling his tongue around the head and gathering up the precome there. “God,” murmurs Kurt, mouthing over the head and back down the side. “I knew you were vocal, heard you whining and moaning every time you and that douchebag were fucking only two curtains away.”

“Kurt, can we please not talk about him right now--” Blaine gasps.

“I would fantasize about it, you know,” Kurt continues, licking at his balls then up at his cock again. “Would lie there only a few meters away and jerk off to the sound of you coming.”

“Oh my God, Kurt--”

He’s cut off by a gasp as Kurt takes him into his mouth, sucking him down into his mouth and bobbing his head up and down. God, Kurt is talented with his tongue, knows just how to move, just how much pressure--

He pulls off with a wet smack and murmurs, a fine gossamer strand of spit between his lips and the tip of Blaine’s cock, “I’ve wanted you since the moment I knew what wanting meant.”

Blaine’s heart is pounding in his chest, and he nods urgently, releasing his hands from their invisible hold and sliding his fingers into Kurt’s soft hair, guiding him as he continues to bob up and down, faster and faster, bringing Blaine right to the brink--

He comes with a harsh cry of Kurt’s name, tightening his fingers in his hair as it pulses through him.

He comes down slowly as Kurt pets at his skin, rubbing his lips against his softening cock with his eyes closed. He blearily reaches for one of Kurt’s hands where it rests on his hip, sliding their fingers together and admiring how well they fit.

Kurt looks up at him with dark, soft eyes, and Blaine smiles, tugging on his hand so that he moves up his body and is leaning over him again.

They don’t speak, just move together, lips meeting as if they were magnetised, already so open and wanting. Blaine can taste himself in Kurt’s mouth.

He feels Kurt hard against his thigh, and rocks his hips forwards to give him some relief. Kurt groans against his lips, tightening his fingers around Blaine’s back and rutting harder against him. Blaine gets a hand down between them and fumbles with Kurt’s belt and pants, eventually managing to flick them open and stick a hand down Kurt’s underwear, circling his big cock with his fist.

It’s only a matter of moments before Kurt is panting against his neck, seizing up almost silently as he comes. Blaine works him through it, kissing over his neck and ear, and they collapse onto their sides together, cheeks pressed together and chests heaving.

“Oh my God,” breathes Kurt, and laughs. “Blaine.”

Blaine laughs too, and leans back to kiss him again. “Please tell me that this means something.” He says it with a smile, but it doesn’t mask the hint of worry in his voice.

Kurt strokes a hand down his back. “Of course it does,” he whispers, nudging their noses together. “This--means everything, Blaine.” His voice is almost inaudible. “You mean everything.”

Blaine kisses him fiercely and tips their foreheads together, eyes closed. “I’m so in love with you,” he sighs. “I have been for so long.”

When he opens his eyes, Kurt is smiling at him so softly and happily. “I love you too,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over Blaine’s cheek. “God, it took us a while to get our act together, didn’t it?”

He stuck out his unopened umbrella, offering it to Kurt, who stepped back.

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

“I don’t mind, really,” the man said, stubbornly pressing the umbrella into Kurt’s defensively raised hands. “I can handle a little rain, and you look like you’re dressed nicely for a reason. If I’m meant to get it back, I will.”

He hurried off before Kurt could protest again, leaving him with no choice but to use his unexpected gains. The sunny yellow fabric made him feel like dancing with every step.

______________________

Kurt smiled as he waited for his coffee to come up, loving the scent of freshly ground beans that permeated the air. He idly gazed over at the other customers waiting to order, always up for some people-watching, and noticed a distinctive flash of green.

Thankfully, his order was called seconds later, allowing him to approach Cute and Thoughtful without forgoing the whole reason he was at that coffee shop - his beloved nonfat mocha.

“I guess it was meant to be,” he said once he was within earshot of the other man. “Would you like this back?”

“It’s still raining,” Cute and Thoughtful said, looking pleasantly surprised. “Don’t you need it?”

“I’m about to get on the subway, and neither of my stops are all that far from the stations. My outfit will make it - your hairdo might not,” Kurt replied, nodding at the man’s gelled-down black hair that was starting to frizz around the edges. “You saved me from looking like a total disaster. We’ll just both have to be a little sloppier than we’d like.”

“I’m sure no one could ever think of you as sloppy,” CaT said, taking his umbrella back. Their hands brushed as they made the exchange, sending tingles up Kurt’s arm.

“You’re not exactly the poster child for being disheveled either,” Kurt said, blushing slightly.

They stared at each other for a moment, the atmosphere between them taking on a heavier charge, until the barista’s pointed throat clearings finally reminded them that they had other things to do.

_________________

Kurt ended up beating his train to the station, a move ensuring he was one of the first people in the car once it pulled in. A massive crowd followed him, all a jumble of strange faces and outfits.

Well, all but one.

“Hello again,” Cute and Thoughtful said, gripping the support pole near Kurt’s seat and smiling. “I guess I didn’t need to worry about your outfit after all.”

“And I suppose your hair would have survived the thirty second walk down the stairs,” Kurt said, returning the smile. “But I’m still happy I managed to find you again.”

There was a pause as Kurt realized how badly CaT could take that sentence.

“I mean, so I could return your umbrella! Not that I would have regretted seeing you-”

“No, I get it,” CaT said. Somehow, Kurt believed he actually did understand. “I appreciate your determination. But I still don’t regret lending it to you in the first place.”

They shared another quiet moment, this one more comfortable than the former. Kurt was lost in CaT’s eyes, feeling peculiarly at ease around this man who was technically a stranger.

“If we get off at the same stop, would you like to share the umbrella until one of us gets to our destination?” CaT asked softly. “It might be nice to travel with you on purpose for once.”

“I think that would be wonderful,” Kurt said, just as soft. “I’d like to get to know the man behind the umbrella.”

At that, the train slowed and announced the stop, prompting a large portion of the train to head out. CaT quickly began to follow the bunch, quirking a brow at Kurt in a silent question, but Kurt lost him in the shuffle before he could nod back that yes, this was his stop too. It was all he could do to make it out the doors on time.

A curious sense of loss fell upon Kurt when he hit the platform and realized that Cute and Thoughtful - and God, could he remember to get a real name for this guy sometime soon? - was already gone, probably having assumed that Kurt’s stop hadn’t come after all.

“That’s enough, Hummel,” Kurt muttered to himself, beginning his ascent back to the sidewalk. “Your audition’s almost here, and you need to focus. You’ll probably just see this guy on the way home, if your earlier interactions are anything to go by.”

He spent the walk to the agency building where his audition was being held doing meditative breathing, but even the power of yoga couldn’t soothe his dissatisfaction.

________________

“Wait! Please hold that!” Kurt called, seeing the elevator doors start to whir closed a few feet in front of him. He began to sprint, knowing that the old mechanisms that operated that beast wouldn’t bring it back in time if he missed this trip, and he had no idea where the stairs in this building were, so that wasn’t a feasible option.

A green cardigan-clad arm intercepted the doors, forcing them to open just in time for Kurt to slip into the otherwise deserted elevator.

“Okay, this is getting freaky,” Kurt said, laughing a bit.

“Is this some kind of elaborate reality show stunt?” Cute and Thoughtful asked, laughing along. “Are we about to be Punk’d?”

“I’m going to say no, but only because it’s no longer 2005,” Kurt said. “Unless they just haven’t made the announcement about the reboot.”

“I think I’d rather shave my own head before watching a Punk’d reboot,” CaT said, shuddering.

“A man after my own heart,” Kurt said, letting out one last chuckle. “Oh, uh, I realize it’s probably a bit late for this, but...what’s your name?”

“Blaine. Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt hoped his jaw didn’t drop as wide as he thought it had.

“What’s wrong?” Blaine asked, forehead scrunching in concern.

“As in casting director Blaine Anderson?” Kurt asked. “Part of the greatest stage writing duo since Kander and Ebb?”

“Yes? I mean, yes I’m that Blaine, but I don’t know if I’d say Elliott and I are that good,” Blaine said, still looking confused.

“I’m Kurt Hummel, your eleven o’clock audition,” Kurt said, feeling like his brain had disconnected from his body. “Nice to meet you.”

It was Blaine’s turn to look stunned then, though some kind of innate politeness made him stick out a hand and offer it to Kurt for a shake.

“Damn,” he said quietly, flushing when Kurt’s raised eyebrows let him know Kurt had heard that remark. “No, it’s not that, it’s - I was going to ask you to dinner if we’d managed to meet up again, but I don’t want it to be some kind of casting couch deal.”

“Nor do I,” Kurt said, understanding. “If you cast me, I want it to be based on my skill, not any sort of relationship history we may or may not have.”

“We’ll make it work,” Blaine said as the doors dinged open. “Come on, I can show you the shortcut to our office.”

He kept his grip on Kurt’s hand and started steering them down a well-lit hallway. The continued contact made Kurt’s heart beat somewhat erratically in his chest, and he couldn’t help but think that whether or not he got the part, something good would have to come of this meeting.

(He was right, as it turned out. He knew he hadn’t gotten the part when he left - but he had gotten Blaine’s phone number.

“Hey! Stranger!” a boy yelled, just loud enough to get Blaine’s attention but not stop the whole party. “C’mere.”

“Is there a password I’m supposed to give you?” Blaine joked nervously once he got close to the tailgate the boy was sitting on. “Because that wasn’t in the welcome basket our neighbors gave us.”

“I think your name will be enough for now,” the boy said, smiling flirtily and making Blaine’s heart skip a beat. “I’ve gotta know what to yell in case that frisbee comes sailing over here, after all.”

“Blaine.”

“Kurt.” Kurt stuck his hand out for a shake, which Blaine accepted easily. “Come sit by me.”

Blaine hoisted himself onto the tailgate, just close enough that he could feel Kurt’s body heat next to him. “So, uh...you’re not into frisbee?”

“I don’t mind playing, but I just felt like watching the water go by for a bit. I’ll have plenty of time to annihilate my brother and our friends later,” Kurt replied. “Plus, how rude would I be to leave the new kid all by himself?”

“Don’t feel stuck here on my account!” Blaine said quickly. “If you want to go-”

“Blaine,” Kurt said. “It’s okay. I am absolutely fine with just sitting and talking - as long as you’re a decent conversationalist, at least.”

“I’ve never bored anyone to sleep yet,” Blaine said, parroting Kurt’s playful tone.

“Then tonight should be a blast,” Kurt said. “So tell me, what’s your story, Blaine?”

Blaine launched into the familiar details - parents’ divorce, fresh start, etc. - and Kurt listened attentively, showing actual interest. He responded with his own thirty-second life story before asking another question, this one about interests.

The second Blaine said he liked pop music and theatre, he knew he’d found a kindred spirit in Kurt. They started chattering away like they’d known each other their whole lives, talking about the recent Tony awards and what deserved to be the song of the summer. Just as Blaine was finishing his impassioned defense of Maroon 5, Kurt held up his hand and shushed him.

“Oooh, this is my song!” Kurt cried, cocking a head towards the speakers the girls had set up on one of the picnic tables. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

Kurt pushed himself up and starting shimmying around the inside of the truck bed, beckoning for Blaine to get up and join him.

Blaine couldn’t resist a cute boy begging him to dance. He shoved himself upright and started bopping around with Kurt, busting out the most ridiculous dance moves he knew. Kurt instantly played along, and half of their “dance” was spent giggling at each other while still attempting to keep the beat.

The song ended all too soon, switching to something slow and sad. The girls were all belting along and swaying in their truck beds, but Kurt and Blaine simply flumped back down on their tailgate, red with exertion but still smiling.

“I told you so,” Kurt said after a moment.

“Huh?” Blaine replied eloquently.

“I told you I’d have a good time as long as you could hold a conversation,” Kurt explained. “In fact, I had a great time once you started dancing along with me. I was afraid you’d be a party pooper.”

“How rude would I be to make my new friend dance alone?” Blaine said, purposely echoing one of Kurt’s comments from earlier. He knew Kurt had gotten the reference when a pleased smile appeared across Kurt’s lips.

“I’m sorry about your parents’ divorce, but I’m not at all disappointed that you moved here, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt said.

“You know, I think I’m seeing the bright side myself,” Blaine said, moving his hand tentatively on top of Kurt’s. His watch happened to be on that wrist, allowing Blaine to catch a glimpse of the time. “Oh shit, it’s almost ten o’clock and I still haven’t unpacked my bedsheets.”

“Don’t leave just yet!” Kurt said. He knee-walked across the truck bed to the open back window, where he leaned in and pulled out something from the center console before scuttling back. “You need this.”

He leaned over and wrote his phone number and Kurt :) on the back of Blaine’s hand in permanent marker, blowing gently to dry the ink. A shiver ran down Blaine’s spine at the fairly intimate gesture.

“Thanks,” Blaine said softly. “You want me to text you when I get back?” “For starters,” Kurt replied. “But yeah, knowing you didn’t get lost on the way back would be great.”

“I can do that,” Blaine said. “Um...see you next week?”

“Sounds like a...like a plan,” Kurt said, flushing.

Blaine couldn’t help but hope Kurt had intended to say like a date.

_________________________

The next week seemed to drag, in Blaine’s opinion. He knew he could always try to make plans with Kurt so they could see each other sooner, but he was afraid that a change of venue would disturb their rapport somehow. Waiting for the next riverside party felt safer.

That didn’t mean he and Kurt weren’t texting daily, though. Their conversation from the first party had continued and expanded, and Blaine was definitely guilty of including a few comments that could be interpreted flirtatiously. He noticed a few distinctly non-platonic remarks in Kurt’s replies, though, leading him to believe that his interest was returned.

Thankfully, Friday rolled back around before Blaine could do anything too rash, like show up at his house with a boom box a la Say Anything.

(Which was good, because Blaine thought he remembered Kurt saying his room faced the back of his house. Also, he didn’t actually own a boom box.)

Just ask him tonight, Blaine thought as he got ready. You don’t even have to call it a date if he doesn’t seem interested. Just ask if he’d be willing to show you the rest of town sometime or something.

He took a deep breath, straightened the collar of his emerald green polo, and headed out of the house, calling a quick goodbye to his mom as he did.

The walk down the street felt much quicker this week, and not just because Blaine knew where he was going this time. When he arrived at the little park, he noticed Kurt was already dancing away in his truck bed, carefree and happy. Blaine couldn’t help but smile in response.

At least until he saw Kurt trip over the hinge of the tailgate and start to fall, flailing his arms desperately in an attempt to not faceplant onto the ground below.

Blaine instantly started running, hoping the ten or fifteen feet between them wasn’t too much. He reached Kurt’s truck just in time for Kurt’s balance to finally give way and extended his arms, figuring he might be able to push Kurt back into the truck.

Instead, he caught an armful of torso and landed flat on his back.

“Oof,” Blaine wheezed.

The weight on his chest rolled off then, allowing him to suck in a much-needed breath.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Kurt asked, hands fluttering nervously above Blaine’s body. “Did I break anything?”

“No, just knocked the wind out of me,” Blaine said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Better that than you biting it on the rocks down here, though.”

“I didn’t even see you get here, how did you manage to break my fall like that?” Kurt said.

“I had just arrived when I saw you trip,” Blaine said. “So I bolted the last few feet and hoped I’d get here in time to help somehow. It was just...instinct.”

On that word, he looked directly into Kurt’s eyes, which were full of worry and gratitude and some other emotion Blaine couldn’t quite place. The swirling blues and grays of Kurt’s irises mesmerized him too much to really care about defining it just then, though.

“Instinct for you to try and catch me,” Kurt muttered, incredulous. “God, I just - I need to-”

Needed to kiss Blaine, apparently, as he broke off there to cup Blaine’s cheeks and pull him in.

Blaine wasn’t upset with this turn of events.

“That was...that was something,” he said breathlessly when Kurt finally let him go.

“A good something?” Kurt asked hopefully.

“A great something,” Blaine answered. “Would you maybe like to continue this something with me over dinner tomorrow? You can pick the restaurant, since I kind of don’t know what’s good around here yet.”

“As long as we can also continue this something while we watch the fireworks Finn and Puck brought with them later,” Kurt said, smiling giddily.

“Sounds like a date,” Blaine said, returning Kurt’s grin.