Worth The Fight: Chapter 7

Chapter 7: What 'Cha Gotta Say, Baby?

-----

There was something wrong.

Kurt was never late. He had better sense then that. He was always impeccable, always early so he could avoid the awkward confrontion of tardiness. Prided himself on it, actually. He was a good kid, never did anything bad, never rebelled, threw bitch fits every now and then but they were never in hate.

Where the hell was my son?

He never texted me, he didn't call, Finn didn't see him in Glee Club. I had literally no idea of my son's whereabouts.

I was panicking. After what he went through yesterday, horrible scenarios kept flashing through my mind. Was he hurt? Was he safe? Was he lying in a dumpster, crying out for help? Was he shoved in a locker? Was he unconscious in a ditch? Did some homophobic asshole beat him with a crowbar?

Where. Was. Kurt?!

Technically, I know I had no real reason to be worried. It was only 5 o'clock; school got out at three, he's only be out for two hours. He probably when to hang with a new friend and just forgot to call. Yeah, that's it. I was going to give him hell for scaring me, but he was fine, right?

Right?!

At roughly 5:15, the door slammed open, and I jumped up from my chair in the living room to rush to the front door.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. There was Finn, with my son behind him. I was so happy I didn't notice the awkward tension between them.

"Where have you been, son?" I asked gruffly, arms crossed over my chest.

Finn trotted past, oblivious to my hostile tone as he went into the kitchen and stuck his head in the fridge.

Kurt flinched, his eyes flashing for a moment before he put up a façade.

"School," he said nonchalantly, hanging up his coat.

I had to admit, he was a good actor, but he had to learn that I raised him. I know all his tricks by now.

He attempted to sidestep me, but I held my arm out, blocking his escape. He looked at me, and I raised a brow in challenge. He sighed. He knew not to keep anything from me. I always find out eventually.

"I know you weren't in Glee Club, cause I called your brother and he said you didn't come in today."

He turned his head to glare one of his trademark 'bitch glares' at Finn, who ducked his head in shame and scurried upstairs with his sandwich.

"What were you doing, Kurt? You weren't at Glee, but you came home with Finn, so you must have been at school. Were you studying in the library and forgot to call?"

Please let that be it. Please let him nod and smile. Please don't say he was unconscious in a dumpster for two hours until Finn found him.

He looked at me, his eyes shinning in shame and guilt, but his posture turned straighter as determination rose in them.

"I, I was at school, yes, but I wasn't in the library. I was studying, but not in the library."

I was confused. Where else can you study?

He breathed in deeply, his voice wavering slightly. "I was in... detention?"

"What?!"

He winced as I shouted, shrinking inwardly before clenching his fists tightly and raising his head to meet my gaze, fire sparked in them.

"I was defending myself! This Neanderthal was threatening me, so I insulted him in French, and he lunged at me, and-"

"He lunged at you?" I interrupted. "Are you hurt? Do I have to tear him apart with my bare hands?"

He shook his head frantically. "Dad, no, it's okay! He was going to hurt me, but Blaine threw him back and started fighting him to keep him off me, and-"

"Blaine? Blaine you like from yesterday Blaine?"

He huffed, irritated. "This would be much easier if you stopped commenting every two seconds, Dad."

I gave him a stern look, but he did inherit my stubbornness. "Anyway, Blaine pulled him away from me and defended himself when Azimio started swinging at him too, and we all got sent to the Principle. Azimio got suspended, Blaine got a week of detention and I got today. End of story. I couldn't call you because my phone wasn't allowed on."

He was eyeing me carefully, waiting for an inevitable blowup. But, I just sighed deeply and let my arms fall limp to my side before pulling my son into a hug. He startled, surprised, before he warily returned the hug, confused.

"God, Kurt, you'd think I'd had enough time to prepare myself for all the trouble you could get into in public school since you came out," I breathed. "You were attacked your first day, and its day two and you were attacked again. You've been lucky both times, but you can't be every time, and it could have been so much worse than it was. Do you have any idea how worried I was? Two hours past your school day ending and not a word from you, your brother hasn't seen you, what was I suppose to think?"

I pulled back as my shoulder started to get damp. Kurt was trying to discreetly wipe at his eyes, his scarf shifting just slightly. I gasped in shock.

"What... is that on your neck, son?"

Kurt stiffened instantly, his cheeks staring to turn red. "Um... a bruise?" he squeaked out.

My blood began to boil. "You're damn right its a bruise. A specific type of bruise, known as a hickey!"

He stepped away from me, holding his hands up pleadingly. "Dad, please, your heart..."

"Screw my heart! Are you telling me you're hooking up with guys you meet in detention now?"

"I didn't meet him in detention! Blaine just-"

"Blaine?! Blaine is who you hooked up with!?" I exploded.

He was starting to panic. "Dad, please, calm down! We've been hitting it off really well, and he stood up for me, and we had a moment in detention when Mrs. Schuester left for a minute, and it just happened! We were just kissing, I swear!"

God. "Your teacher left you, two openly gay boys, alone in a locked room together? God damn this school!"

Kurt followed me quickly, panic rising in his voice. "Dad, Dad, please, sit down! Don't get the shot gun, please, don't do this!"

I paused, looking at the gun I kept around for emergencies, mostly intimidation, and shook my head. He was right, the gun was unnecessary. Blaine wasn't even here right now.

"Go to your room, Kurt," I sighed. "You're grounded for a week."

He nodded to me, relief obvious in his eyes. He turned on his heel and fled up the stairs, slamming his door shut.

"Door open!"

I hear a faint creak as he opened the door slightly. I fell back into my chair, head in my hands.
What was I gonna do with this kid?

-----

When dinner came around, Kurt was a bit wary to leave the (semi) safety of his bedroom. His father was his world, but he was an over protective Papa Bear, both as endearing as it was frustrating.

"Must be the German in him," he muttered to himself, bracing himself for the awkward dinner glares to follow. He sat down at the table, Finn giving an apologetic look which Kurt just rolled his eyes at. Carole looked concerned, and Burt looked... well...

Guilty? What?

Burt cleared his throat after a few moments of tense silence. "Son, listen. I overreacted earlier today. I know you've always been a good kid, so I shouldn't have exploded on you like that. Even if you didn't call, got detention, and came home with a hickey."

Kurt looked at him, speechless, wondering where his father was going with this. Carole was trying to hide a smile at the 'hickey' part, winking at him subtly.

"But you were attacked today, and you were defending yourself. I guess that's valid enough for a detention and your inability to call. And I suppose, this one time, I can overlook the Blaine incident, seeing as how he did stand up for you. I owe him that much."

Kurt blinked. Then again. "So..." he urged.

Burt sighed. "So, I suppose you don't deserve a week long grounding. But you're still grounded for today, seeing how you did get detention, didn't call, and came home with a hickey, circumstances be damned. I can't give the impression I'm okay with any of that."

Kurt smiled widely, relief his father wasn't disappointed in him evident in his voice. "Thank you, Dad."

Burt waved him off, a small smile on his face. Finn used the moment to grab another piece of meat, Carole distracted by sending Kurt this odd, almost knowing look.

-----

Blaine Anderson:
Hey, you wanna get some coffee after Glee tomorrow? My treat.

Kurt smiled, secretly thrilled at the opportunity to spend time with the badboy, friend-zoned be damned.

Kurt Hummel:
Why not? Free food, you'll find me there.

Blaine Anderson:
Haha. I somehow believe and disbelieve that at the same time.

Kurt Hummel:


Blaine Anderson:


Kurt Hummel:
What about detention?

Blaine Anderson:
Mrs. Schuester loves me. I'll explain the situation to her and she'll say I showed up. Win-win.

So, Lima Bean?

Kurt smiled. A BadBoy slash teachers pet? That was new.

Kurt Hummel:
Definitely.

As if there is any other place in Lima *worthy* of my time for caffeine.

Blaine Anderson:
Rawr Kitty has claws.

Wanna meet there or hitch a ride with me?

Kurt chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, wondering just what kind of 'ride' he would be taking. In the end, any extra time with Blaine was time he wanted.

Kurt Hummel:
I'll hitch. Better for the environment, you know?

Blaine Anderson:
Oh but of course. That and combined showers

Kurt Hummel:
Why, Anderson! I should wash your mouth with soap!

Blaine Anderson:
Baby, when I'm done with you, my mouth will be far dirtier from more than a few words.

Annnnddddd, now Kurt was starting to get hard.

Kurt Hummel:
Don't make promises you don't intend to keep, Blaine.

Blaine Anderson:
Who said I wasn't planning on keeping it? x

Yep. Kurt smiled shyly as he bit his lip again. He couldn't wait for school tomorrow.

-----

"Kurt!"

He turned towards the sound of his name, smiling in Mercedes' direction.

"Hey, 'Cedes. What's up?" he asked happily.

She mock glared at him as she put her hands on her hips. "White boy, you have yet to explain to me what happened yesterday. I needs the detes!"

Kurt laughed, shaking his head fondly. "There's not much to tell," he said as he opened his locker, checking his coif in the mirror. "I insulted Azimio in French, he lunged at me, Blaine interfered, we all got punishments. Blaine and I wrote notes in detention until Mrs. Schuester left, where we decided to make up for missing Glee by singing duets. That's about it."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "Okay, Blaine defending you isn't surprising," she started.

"It's not?" Kurt asked, confusion causing his head to tilt to the side.

"It's his thing," she explained. "He's the badass badboy who beats the jocks for picking on the unpopular kids. Kinda like Robin Hood, really."

Kurt snorted. "So I've heard," he murmurs.

"Anyway," she continued, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the slight blush rising on his pale cheeks. "What do you mean you spent detention singing duets with him?"

"What it sounds like," he answered dryly, rolling his eyes. A stubborn part of his bangs refused to stay up, so he pulled out his hairspray and put it in it's place.

She chuckled. "Oh, what fabulous diva besties we shall be, boo."

He smiled at her. "Who wear fabulous hats, no doubt."

She laughed, linking his arm in hers. "But of course."

They laughed down the hallway, missing the dark, honey-hazel eyes that followed their every move, smiling adoringly after one in particular.

-----

"Hummel, push it, come on! I've heard of your track record from Dalton, get your ass in gear!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, mumbling an apology to the girls as he stood up, not eager to follow Coach Bestie's orders. He hated to sweat, but she was his gym teacher, so he didn't exactly have an option.

He was content lifting the tiny weights they did to stay toned, but apparently that wasn't good enough for her. He walked over to the heavier weights, curling a fifty pounder absentmindedly as he thought about Blaine. The boy kept appearing in his thoughts, and he didn't stop continuing to caress the taller boy's foot in every class they shared.

Ever since the 'epic first kiss', as Kurt was referring to it in his mind, the constant sexual tension surrounding them seemed to double tenfold. Although they agreed to turn it down a little until the school got the stick out of it's ass, the desire to touch was making learning anything nearly impossible. Thank the non-existent god they were both advanced enough to not have to worry about it.

"Damn, Hummel," Santana purred. "Check out the gun show."

"What?" Kurt asked, his brow furrowed.

"You're buff, Kurt!" Tina said, gesturing to his bicep. He looked at it, understanding. He did lift weights every so often, and working in his Dad's auto repair shop was bound to earn him some muscle eventually. That and his extensive dance workouts and training from Dalton, he guessed it was plausible to have a strong bicep.

He shrugged. "Guess I'm finally hitting puberty, right?" he joked, ignoring the pitch of his voice.

"Puberty, damn. You're doing it right, Lady Hummel. You're doing it right."

Tina rolled her eyes. Kurt grabbed a hand towel, wiping the sweat from his neck. Santana's eyes grew wide and she released a loud cackle.

"I don't believe it! You were getting some yesterday!"

"What are you talking about?" Kurt inquired, looking at Tina with concerned eyes. She was biting her lips, shaking her head as she held in her laughter.

Santana sighed over dramatically, before pointing to her neck. Kurt turned to the wall covered by a mirror, freezing instantly.

Shit.

In his haste, he accidentally wiped off the concealer he had on his neck, hiding the hickey from view. He quickly draped the towel over his shoulders, covering the mark.

He tried to play it off. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. I ran into the door and got a bruise."

"Door my ass!" Santana laughed. "The only contact you were having with a door was being lifted against it! Am I right?"

Her eyes widened and she laughed in delight as Kurt's cheeks flushed further, and not from the sweat.

"No way! I am right! Damn, you and Anderson sure moved quick!"

"Santana," Kurt hissed, getting in her face. "We didn't have sex, we just made out a little! Now keep it down, I can't risk having any of these guys overhear!"

Her laughter cut off instantly, and she nodded in understanding.

Tina cleared her throat, changing the subject. "So, did you hear Bestie's husband Cooter bought her a $10,000 bench press for their anniversary?"

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, missing the smirks being swapped through the room.

-----

At the end of the period, Kurt exited the bathroom stall when he heard the door slam, indicating he was the last one in the locker room. He couldn't handle the glares sent his way, like he was trying to catch a peak of them, so he just waited until he could shower and change in peace.

He just finished his coif when he saw something in his mirror and froze. Directly behind him was the entirety of the McKinley football team, minus the boys in Glee.

Breathing deeply, he turned around with a bitch glare in place, hoping pure intimidation would be enough.

"Can I help you?" he asked, snark lacing his tone.

The largest one, Karofsky he had learned, stepped forth, smiling evilly. "We just heard how you put our boy Azimio in five-day suspension," he spoke matter-of-factly. "And you see, we just can't let that go unpunished. Especially not for a fairy like you."

He reached out for Kurt, who dodged his grab and fled on his heel, running for the exit. He fumbled for the phone, hitting the 'call' button when he reached the right number.

He yelped out as a thick hand grabbed his wrist, yanking him back and slamming him into the lockers. His body ached in protest, and the cry of pain that escaped his throat seemed to egg them on.

One by one, they all took a throw at him, Karofsky and some other jock holding him up. Half the team had gotten in a hit, and tears were sliding down his cheeks, his voice so hoarse from his cries, when the door slammed open.

The jocks paused in fear as the sound echoed through the room, Kurt's shaky breathing the only other sound. A tense moment passed, and then;

"I'm only going to say this one more time."

A beat.

"Get. The fuck. OFF HIM!"

They released the countertenor quickly, emitting another cry from the wounded boy. They cleared out fast, scattering and cursing in their haste. Karofsky remained, glaring such hatred at the owner of the voice.

Kurt groaned quietly, the pain overtaking his senses, unaware of his savior's presence. Karofsky punched a locker, making the boy whimper, before storming out.

"You can't save him every time, homo," he snarled at the voice before he left.

Kurt breathed shallowly, the quiet unnerving him. The moment the door slammed shut, Kurt felt a pair of warm, calloused hands on his back, urging him to gently turn onto his back.

His body automatically calmed at the touch, recognizing safety and connection through the touch. A voice, the voice, was speaking to him, and as he laid on his back, he slowly blinked open his eyes, the blurry vision in front of him becoming clear.

Blaine.

"Kurt, come on, stay with me here!" he chocked out, voice distraught with worry now that the initial fury had subsided.

He was scared.

When he received the call from the boy while he was under the bleachers, he was instantly worried. They only texted at school, because that they could get away with.

But not calling. Never calling.

When he hesitantly answered it, he was met with the gut wrenching sound of Kurt crying out in pain. The cries continued, and he broke into a mad dash, trying to find the boy before they dumped his body and left him to suffer without help. He was terrified he wouldn't make it in time, the anger rushing in his blood at a level much stronger than he felt whenever he saw bullying.

"Kurt, please, say something, anything, please," he begged, clutching those pale hands in his olive tanned ones, his eyes beginning to glass over. Kurt blinked up at him, recognition settling into his features.

"Blaine," he breathed, his body instantly sagging in relief. Blaine was here. Blaine helped him. He was safe. He...

Was in Blaine's arms, face inches away.

"Thank God," Blaine breathed, placing feather light kisses over the boy's beautiful face, his temple, cheeks, nose, jaw. He hovered over his lips, glancing in those stunningly blue-green orbs for any hesitance or uncertainty.

Kurt closed the distance, desperation taking over his body as he threw his arms around the Italian's neck, threading his fingers into those gorgeous ebony curls. Blaine responded immediately, clutching Kurt closer to him as he kissed back urgently, fear and relief and gratefulness and desire and pent-up want erupting between the both of them.

The kiss slowly died in urgency, until it was the soft placing of gentle presses, breathes mixing and forming an intoxicating combination. Blaine rested his forehead against Kurt's, and they allowed the racing of their overworked hearts to calm down.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, you hear me, Kurt?" Blaine breathed, opening his eyes to lock gazes with the incredible person in his embrace.

Kurt smiled shakily. "I'll do my best," he said weakly, knowing he would never be able to promise something like that. This was the life he had to live, as long as he was out in Ohio. Unfortunately, this would probably happen again.

Blaine frowned in understanding, frustrated he had protection from this, but Kurt didn't. They couldn't take their hate out on him, but Kurt they could. And they would only get worse if they became official.

Blushing slightly, they stumbled upright, still unable to release some sort of hold on the other. Kurt flinched, his face forming into a grimace as his body remembered his injuries.

Blaine looked pissed. "Those fuckers," he hissed. "I'll break their damn necks, I swear."

Kurt shook his head. "Blaine, I know you're trying to help, but don't," he pleaded, cupping the boy's face in his hands to emphasize his point. "My Dad, he has a really bad heart, he could have a heart attack if he has too much stress. We've been lucky so far, but if he hears about any more of this he's done for."

Blaine looked into his eyes, frustration shinning through, but he reluctantly nodded. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief.

"So... we should head to Glee, right?" he said, trying to break the silence that had fallen.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, I suppose. Do you need help or..."

Kurt shook his head fervently. "No, no, I'm fine, it's not that bad," he claimed, stiffening his posture and taking Blaine's hand, strutting to the choir room. If you weren't watching as closely as Blaine was, you never would have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

"You're good at that," Blaine commented. Kurt raised his eyes in silent question.

"Hiding how much pain you're in," he clarified. Kurt sighed.

"It's the way things are," he said, his silence leaving no room for continuation.

"But not how they have to be," Blaine murmured, so low Kurt almost didn't catch it.

But he pretended he didn't, focusing on his fingers intertwined with the badboy's, giving him strength.

-----

Glee was... well, what Blaine expected.

Santana and Tina had talked about the hickey, of course, so the talk going around only increased as the two in question walked in, late, and holding hands.

The two kept insisting they weren't dating, they just enjoyed each other's company. Santana and Puck high-fived at that, and grinned at Kurt's bitch glare. Kurt rolled his eyes and turned back to Blaine, drowning them out.

"So what are the pairings again?" he asked.

Blaine smiled fondly. "Shades, or Shane and Mercedes, but Shane isn't a member, Puckzies, Puckerman and Lauren Zizes, Sainn, Sam and Quinn, Britana, Santana and Brittany, Tike, Mike and Tina, and Finnchel, Finn and Rachel, but you knew that one. Artie and Rory are fighting over Sugar, oh, and Mr. Schue and his wife are Wemma."

"Wemma?"

"Will and Emma," he clarified, loving the confused but comprehending look on the brunette's face.

"Maybe one day we'll have a Blurt!" Puck cheered.

"Blurt?" the two boys looked at each other in confusion. Blaine shrugged. He didn't know what that was suppose to be.

Puck rolled his eyes exasperated. "Blaine and Kurt! Blurt!"

Dawning reached their expressions, and Kurt wrinkled his nose in distain. "It sounds too much like my Dad's name, and that creeps me out a little. Can we think of something else?"

"KurtCoBlaine?" Santana tried.

A furious shake of both heads. "SO uncreative," Kurt said, realizing what they were discussing and turning a deep pink. "But there's no need to create a pairing name for us, because we aren't a pair, so let's talk about something else."

"So?" Puck said. "We can still ship it! Don't worry, we'll have a name for you yet!"

Kurt buried his head in his hands, muttering French, and Blaine laughed quietly as he translated it to himself, tightening his grip around the boy's waist, mindful of the bruises.

Mr. Schue burst in the room, greeting everyone with that same cheery attitude that sometimes Kurt enjoyed, and others he hated.

He started droning about... something, Kurt couldn't tell you, he was focusing on the heat radiating from Blaine's body, his delicious scent and that damn arm around his waist, firm and possessive but gentle and caring.

"So, we're going to continue our impromptu performances for this week's assignment! Let's see, who hasn't gone yet... Ah, Kurt!"

He raised his head, raising his eyebrow in question, a smile threatening to break out at another solo opportunity.

"I'll just shuffle on your iPod please," Mr. Schue requested, taking the offered device and returning it in a moment.

"Okay! Kurt, you've gotta give us a Kelly Clarkson song! Pick any one you want, and let Brad know, then get started!"

The smile broke through as a song fitting Kurt's current mood came up. It was perfect.

"Good luck, gorgeous," Blaine whispered hotly in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine before reluctantly getting up to talk to Brad. With that worked out, Kurt faced the back, letting his stage persona and emotions form as the intro started.
As his cue came, he chose to stay facing the back until the chorus, letting his voice build.

"You know the bed feels warmer,
Sleeping here alone.
You know I dream in color,
And do the things I want.

You think you got the best of me,
Think you've had the last laugh,
Bet you think that everything good is gone.

Think you left me broken down,
Think that I'd come running back,
Baby you don't know me, cause you're dead wrong.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Stand a little taller,
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone.

What doesn't kill you makes a fighter.
Footsteps even lighter,
Doesn't mean I'm over, cause you're gone.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger.
Just me, myself and I.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Stand a little taller,
Doesn't mean I'm lonely, when I'm alone."

Those stupid jocks. Throw slushies at him, throw punches at him, pick on his friends and make his life hell. Kurt Hummel does not break.

No one messes with the Hummels.

"Thanks to you I got a new thing started.
Thanks to you I'm not the broken-hearted.
Thanks to you I'm finally thinking about me.
You know in the end, the day you left was just my beginning.

In the end...

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Stand a little taller,
Doesn't mean I'm lonely, when I'm alone.

What doesn't kill you makes a fighter.
Footsteps even lighter,
Doesn't mean I'm over, cause you're gone.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger.
Just me, myself and I.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Stand a little taller,
Doesn't mean I'm lonely, when I'm alone.

When I'm alone."

The applause was thundering, of course. With this assignment, no one thought twice about the meanings behind the words. They just assumed you chose the one you knew the best.

But Blaine wasn't grinning. He could see the unshed tears forming in Kurt's stunning eyes. He spoke big, and he was brave, but he was scared. Because while he would strengthen mentally and spiritually from this, he would suffer physically and emotionally as well.

Blaine raised his hand. "Mr. Schue? I know I already went this week, but in the spirit of the challenge, do you mind if I sing something?"

Mr. Schue was pleased, and ushered the leather-clad boy up. Whispering the choice to Brad, Blaine grabbed a guitar and perched on a stool, taking this one entirely by himself. As he opened his mouth to speak, he looked up and caught Kurt's intense gaze.

"Darling, you're hiding in the closet once again,
Start smiling.

I know you're trying,
Real hard not to turn your head away,
Pretty darling.

Face tomorrow, tomorrow is not yesterday.
Yesterday, oh oooooh."

Kurt's eyes widened as he made the connection, transfixed by Blaine's voice and the words he was expressing. His voice was with an underlying hint of pleading, and his eyes were asking a promise.

"Pretty please, I know it's a drag.
Wipe your eyes and put up your head.
I wish you could be happy instead.
There's nothing else I can do,
But love you the best that I can.

Yeah yeah yeah yeah.

Darling, I was there once a while ago,
I know.

That it's hard to be stuck with,
People that you love,
When nobody trusts.

You're not the only one who's been through.
I've been there alone and now so are you.

I just want you to know, want you to know it's not your fault.
It's not your fault, ohh, ohh.

Your fault, your fault,
It's not your fault,
Your fault, your fault, your fault."

Kurt was silent as the tears fell down his face, and he made attempt to wipe them, afraid he'd break the spell. Blaine was telling him everything he didn't know he needed to hear. He sounded like he truly knew, and then he remembered what Blaine shared in confidence at his home.

The tears flew faster at that point.

"Pretty please, I know it's a drag.
Wipe your eyes and put up your head.
I wish you could be happy instead.
There's nothing else I can do,
But love you the best that I can.

Darling, you're hiding in the closet once again,
Start smiling."

While everyone else cheered, Kurt sucked in a gasp as he realized something.

Love.

Blaine said love in that song.

Was it meant to be there? Did it just happen to be in there while the rest of the song was the message. He nodded to himself, confident that was the answer. He liked Blaine, he liked liked him, and he knew Blaine liked him too.

Or so he hoped. Kurt certainly didn't go around kissing people he didn't like, but he couldn't speak for Blaine. He shook his head. Blaine wouldn't use him like that.

Then what is he doing now?

Kurt shushed that thought. He was doing it too, whatever this thing they were doing was. He's just overthinking, he's stressed and needs to calm his nerves.

Blaine returns to his seat, cupping that porcelain skin and wiping the tears away with the pad of his calloused thumb.

Kurt smiled shakily, mouthing 'thank you' to the boy who was quickly stealing his heart.

Blaine smiled sadly, mouthing 'you're welcome' back.

-----

Glee droned on for the rest of the time, Blaine absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over Kurt's knuckles as they held hands. When they were finally dismissed, Kurt gave Finn the keys to his precious Navigator.

"You hurt my baby, I'll throw your X-box out the window and tap dance on it in my Alexander McQueen combat boots, I swear to Gaga Finn Hudson I will!"

"Dude chill! I won't I promise!" Finn pleaded, terror in all his features. He paused for a moment, glaring at Blaine. "I'm guessing you've got a ride with him?" he asked rudely.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "As a matter-of-fact, I do. Don't wait up, I'll call when I'm on my way home."

With that, he tugged Blaine out of the choir room, gesturing for him to lead the way. Smiling cockily, Blaine tugged his hand free to cover both of Kurt's eyes, who squealed in surprise and mock protested.

"But I really want to see your reaction perfectly when you see it," he purred in his ear.

Kurt giggled. "If you show me your cock under the guise that it's your 'ride', I won't be responsible for my actions," he teased.

Blaine groaned lightly in his ear. "Damn, babe, you can't be saying things like that and giving me images I can't use immediately!"

Kurt shrugged, a coy smile on his lips. "Guess you'll have to wait 'til you drop me off, hot-stuff."

Blaine shook his head, grinning. "Come on, before you say something else to make me hard."

"I still have my cheerleading outfit from Dalton in my closet."

"...Fuck you, Hummel."

"Maybe after the tenth date, Anderson. And that's a strong maybe."

-----

"Absolutely not."

"Kurt-"

"No. No, no, no, and Hell to the No! Are you brain damaged? Why on Earth would I willing get on that?"

Blaine smiled, watching the boy protest. He stood to the side next to a sleek, black motorcycle, a helmet under his arm and another in his outstretched hand.

"Kurt, come on, I've ridden it since I was a freshman, I've got two helmets, we aren't even going on any major roads."

Kurt shook his head fervently. "N-O, Anderson, no! I'm going to get helmet hair, and windburn on my face, and some drunk driver is gonna hit you and that helmet won't do squat to protect me!"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Kurt, get on the bike," he insisted, shaking the spare helmet in the fashionable brunette's direction.

Kurt pursed his lips. "Give me one good reason why I should even consider getting near that thing."

Blaine chuckled, holding the taller boy's gaze. "Easy. You get to sit behind me, up real close and personal, with your arms wrapped tight across my waist, chest, anywhere you'd like. And you get to do it again on the way back."

He smiled coyly as Kurt went silent and blushed, legitimately considering the choice. Blaine waved the helmet again, flashing the boy a crooked smile of pearly whites.

Kurt sighed heavily. "Fine, fine! You're lucky it's a 2008 Harley Davidson, vintage seating, or I'd walk away right now," he muttered, taking the helmet unsurely and trying to put it on without touching his hair too much.

Blaine raised an eyebrow in shock, admittedly impressed. Kurt knew bikes?

Hot.

Smiling, he strapped the helmet on and straddled the bike, patting the space behind him. Kurt huffed, but followed suit and awkwardly placed his hands on the badboy's hips. Blaine snorted, and took Kurt's hands and tugged him closer, wrapping his arms tightly across his waist.

"Wouldn't want you to fall of, would we gorgeous?" he asked cheekily, laughing at the designer's blush. He kick started the bike to life, smiling to himself as Kurt let out a squeak and clutched Blaine tighter.

Entirely too pleased, Blaine pealed it out the lot, laughing as Kurt's screams slowly became shouts of his own laughter and joy.

He could get used to this.

-----

The Lima Bean wasn't anything special, but it was the best Lima had to offer. So they found a table and sat, enjoying the ambiance and the company they were in.

"So, Mr. Hummel," Blaine began, breaking off a scone to dip in his medium drip, with a few shakes of cinnamon. "How exactly were you not just a cheerleader, but a football player as well?"

Kurt shrugged, sipping his nonfat grande mocha as he thought. "It really wasn't hard," he admitted.

"Dalton may be a prep school, but they still are a group of boys who want to do more than fence and play polo. I was the best kicker they had, but I didn't have the desire to play the line or field, so I only played as the kicker. As an all boy's school, we recruited some girls from our sister school, Crawford, to rehearse and preform with us so we could even have cheerleading. I could do the moves like the girls and lift like the guys, but our show choir convinced us to preform a-cappella as well, so I auditioned and was one of the lead singers."

He shrugged. Blaine was gaping at him with wide, awe filled eyes. "Well, look at you," he purred. "I suppose when you were in said show-choir, you happened to be a soloist as well?"

Kurt shrugged, a smug grin pulling at the corners of his lips.

Blaine laughed. "You're kidding me! Really?"

"I'm a countertenor," Kurt said simply. "Dalton hadn't had one in a long time. I was like a god-sent to them."

Blaine grinned. "They'd be deaf and blind to believe otherwise," he said, throwing in a wink and smile.

Kurt rolled his eyes playfully, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. Blaine swiftly reached over and snatched Kurt's cup, ignoring the squawk of protest he received.

"Hey! What's wrong with yours?" he cried.

Blaine shrugged, taking a sip. "Was curious to what it tasted like. I read this thing once where you can tell a lot about someone by their coffee order."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sure. And you can match-make based on them, too."

"Au countreir, mon cheri," Blaine cut in, lifting his finger like he could give his point a 3D form. "I read a book once where a girl wrote personalities based on coffee orders in this notebook. She got so good she could guess your coffee order on the spot, and she was practically never wrong. She started a match-making business that made the news and everything, even found her true love! It was so awesome!"

Kurt had his arms crossed over his chest, an amused, endearing smile playing on his lips. "You have no idea how gay you sound right now," he chuckled.

Blaine mock gasped, holding his heart as if he was wounded. "You mock me, sir! I'll have you know there's plenty of me that screams my sexuality, thank you very much! I embrace my gayness! I thrive off it! I am fabulous darling, fabulous!"

Kurt couldn't. He burst into laughter, Blaine following right behind him. They continued talking about such, past school stories and friendships and families. Kurt was really glad Blaine had invited him.

He bit his lip. And he was especially glad he got to ride home with him, too.

-----

The ride to the Hudmel house was over faster than Kurt preferred. Truth be told, he preferred to never get off the bike, not as long as there was Blaine Anderson to clutch onto, but then his Dad would shoot them both, and he can't risk getting blood stains on his Marc Jacobs jacket. He flat out refused.

He paused by the bike, unsure how to continue. Was this a date? Should he invite him inside? What does the say to his Dad? Is there suppose to be a goodbye-kiss or are they not suppose to do that when they aren't dating?

Gaga, why aren't they dating again?

Blaine leans in, his breath ghosting over Kurt's lips. "I should head out before someone sees us and vandalizes your house, babe."

Oh, right. They were in Ohio. That's why.

Kurt frowned, but nodded. Blaine turned his head and pressed a delicate kiss to the boy's porcelain cheek, the slight blush rising to color them.

"I'll see you at school, gorgeous," Blaine breathed.

Kurt exhaled shakily. "If you change your mind," he sang softly, Blaine's gaze burning into him curiously. "I'm the first in line. Honey, I'm still free. Take a chance on me."

Blaine smiled softly. "If you need me, let me know, gonna be around. If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down."

"Gonna do my very best and it ain't no lie. If you put me to the test, if you let me try," Kurt continued.

Sighing sadly, Blaine lifted Kurt's hand and gently kissed it. When he released it, he put his helmet back on and kicked awake the bike, roaring down the street as Kurt watched him disappear.

"Take a chance on me," he whispered into the distance.