One, two, three - step and sway; Part Two

[fire_and_fall]

Title: One, two, three - step and sway
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None whatsoever. I started this after 'A Very Glee Christmas' and by the time it got finished most of it (everything) got jossed - so I would say it's an AU?
Warnings: None
Word Count: ~ 15,000
Summary: Kurt needs this to work more than anything, so he tries a new approach. A slow, careful, nerve-wracking and exhausting approach. Snippets from the daily life of Kurt and Blaine at Dalton and how they're trying to balance on the fine line between friends and something more.
A/N: This is the story that would never die, seriously. I had the general idea for it back when I was busy with my exams and when I finally sat down to write a quick draft, it just didn't want to stop. Of course RL got in the way and I couldn't finish it before the hiatus - you know, the first one - and Glee went in a completely different direction. So, lets say that this is my take on how things could have turned out for our boys.
Once again, a big thank you to my betas: devonwood, who didn't give up on this - and on me -, and secret_chord25, who helped me smooth out the rough edges. All remaining mistakes are mine.
A/N2: Expect panicky!Kurt, sick!Blaine, stupid teenage hormones, lots of nerdy references and dubious amounts of snow - I know how to time things, you know; just when everyone's forgotten about winter - ha. Also I still firmly believe that Dalton is a boarding school - or at least that Kurt was boarding during the week and went home for the weekends. Makes more sense to me, than driving four hours a day from Lima to Westerville and back. Just. Roll with me here.



*Three*

Blaine falls sick the next week; not bad enough to go home, but enough to be excused from classes. Kurt doesn't even know about it until the news reaches the Warblers' table at breakfast on Tuesday morning. He marvels at the way Wes puffs up spectacularly, and a few scattered here we go again-s are muttered, until Wes gives everyone a death glare and says something about Regionals being just around the corner, and how Blaine should know better than to run around school like it was freaking June.

"And if I catch someone without a scarf, there will be severe consequences - stop grinning Nick, or I swear to God, you won't get to wear anything but the scarf. This is serious, people-"

Kurt tunes him out after that, because really - Blaine could take the stage half-dead and still win the whole crowd over. He should check, though, just in case, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and types in a quick message.

Wes just threatened you with bodily harm if you don't get better, like, yesterday. Thoughts?

He only has to wait a few seconds before his screen lights up.

Amfine,justa cold, reads the reply, and Kurt lets out an exasperated sigh. 'Apparently the cold ate your spacebar' he wants to type back, but he hears Wes clear his throat next to him. Kurt snaps his head up and blushes furiously when he sees that all the others are staring at him. Although, aside from Wes - who still looks like his head is about to explode - the others are looking back at him a little gratefully; they've been released from Wes's persistent inquiry about their daily tea drinking and vitamin-popping schedules now that the older boy's attention is completely devoted to Kurt. The others are smirking a bit, too. Bastards.

"Anything interesting to add, Kurt?"

"Umm - it's Blaine?" he says, gesturing a little helplessly at his phone. Wes's face is a picture, really; sadly, not a sympathetic or understanding one. "I just wanted to check if he was okay." He decides that honesty is the best policy here, since the vein on Wes' temple has started throbbing. He's beginning to look remarkably like Rachel on one of her worst outbursts, and that's saying something.

"He is fine, we are all fine, we are going to come in last and that will be just fine!" Wes throws his hands up in the air and then sinks in his chair a little, hands coming down to massage at his temple. Yes, definitely a little bit of Rachel, there. David pats him on the back reassuringly as he turns to Kurt.

"You should have seen him during last years swine flu craze."

"Don't remind me," Wes mutters, giving a full body shudder.

"You did go a bit overboard that time."

"I just wanted to make sure everyone stayed healthy!" Wes exclaims, clearly hurt by the way the others are nodding in agreement.

"By locking us in the auditorium?" David asks incredulously.

"It was just for a day!"

"And yet you were the only one who got sick," David deadpans.

"Because all of you drove me crazy!"

Kurt's phone buzzes again and Wes sighs heavily, motioning for Kurt to take it. "It's not like it can get worse, is it? Oh, God, what if he has laryngitis-?" Kurt looks down at the screen once again.

wes stillpissed?, the message reads, and Kurt smiles. Wes seems to have calmed down a little from his previous meltdown, only now he's throwing scarves at the passing Warblers with a 'wear it or I'll make you wear it' look on his face.

Just worried. He still believes your cold will cause the Warblers' downfall, but he's handling it pretty well, considering.

dramaqueen thats whathe is, Blaine's reply informs him. Kurt doesn't dare laugh, because Wes has added another layer of clothing to his next victim, and he can't risk suffering the same fate - that hat just won't go well with his complexion, even if it's a Dalton regulation. He replies instead.

I'll drop by after classes. With disinfectant. Need anything?

oxygen through mynose, comes the instant reply. So Blaine can't find the space button, but he can still spell oxygen correctly. Figures. He hits reply again.

I'll see if I can arrange that. Try to get some rest, I'm going to pick up a few things for you.

He slips his phone back in his pocket, letting Wes strangle him a little with his own scarf when the other boy wraps it around his neck one too many times. Kurt smiles at him, trying to aim for something reassuring. "He's okay."

"He'd better be," Wes huffs, and then asks incidentally, "You're gonna visit him, right?"

"I thought I'd drop by. I have this fantastic cough medicine; it's organic and it does wonders to-" Kurt stops, because Wes is looking at him funny; not disapproving and not annoyed - which is new - but still strange. "What?"

"Just - make sure that I don't lose one of my countertenors to this flu thing, too, okay? So - no funny business," he says - and then he winks, actually fucking winks at Kurt. Kurt gapes back at him, because - did he just say that, and also, what? Did he just miss something?

He must have, because Wes holds up his hands defensively, a smile lingering at the corner of his mouth. "I'm just saying."

Wes picks up his stuff from the table, and almost as an afterthought he turns back and adds, "And I'll know if you take off that scarf until you get in the shower at night. Have a nice day." He flashes Kurt a smile and walks away, leaving Kurt standing by the empty table with his mouth opened slightly to speak and gawping like a fish out of water.

Well, that was unexpected and - awkward.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, reminding him that classes will start in a minute even if he's determined to just stand there all day, in an attempt to grasp this recent piece of information. Kurt snatches his things from his chair and hurries out the door and up to the second floor, barely making it to English Literature in time.

Of course, he can't concentrate on anything that bears a relation to actual studying. He worries his lower lip instead, absentmindedly twirling his phone between his fingers while he tries to avoid making eye contact with their teacher, because he's so not ready to discuss the tragic, titular hero of Hamlet.

Kurt starts to reach a whole new level of silent panic, his thoughts coming to the same conclusion over and over again: if Wes assumes that he and Blaine are an item now, then so do the rest of the Warblers, which could very well mean that Blaine might be aware that Kurt is currently crushing on him with the force of a thousand hearts. Kurt thought that he was playing it cool, acting mature and collected, but, in reality, he was probably about as subtle as an earthquake - which wouldn't be a first, but it would be the only time he’d made an honest effort to act otherwise.

But if Blaine knows and hasn't run away yet, or made excuses to politely brush him off, then that had to mean something. Kurt can't possibly be imagining all of the wrong things this time; these last few weeks can't have just been a product of his delirious mind.

And maybe - just maybe - he could fit this something with Blaine into his nice, easy dream box without the world coming to end.

This idea gets stuck in his mind, makes his head spin, and when he's done pretending not to care, it abruptly transforms into something familiar and - if his past experiences are any indication - something dangerous.

Hope.

Kurt might have thought that being patient and cautious was hard, but being hit in the face with this renewed, unexpected emotion feels like someone is sitting on his chest and forcing all the air out of his lungs.

It's terrifying.

He looks down at his phone, desperate for an answer, and when the screen lights up with a new message, he very nearly jumps out of his skin. Kurt looks around quickly but, thankfully, no one seems to have noticed anything, so he chances a glance at the screen once again.

ok I lied. am notokay,please killme now

How appropriate. Breathe, Kurt.

One step at a time; he might have just had some sort of epic revelation - which, if he really thinks about it, is not that epic or even that much of a revelation - but there's no reason to smother Blaine with his full-blown insanity all at once.

By the end of his classes, Kurt manages to calm himself down to an acceptable degree. He picks up a few things from his room, and, when he reaches Blaine's door he trusts himself enough to knock without his hands shaking uncontrollably.

Kurt takes a step back when Jason comes storming out, balancing a small army of books in his arms.

"Next time, don't sneeze in my face, bro and we'll see about the tea!" he yells back to the room. An angry grunt comes from behind him before the door shuts. Jason turns around to look at Kurt with an expression that can only be described as relieved.

"Thank God you're here. He's been whining for two hours now, and I swear I'm gonna murder him if I catch that damn flu right before my History exam!" The second part comes out louder, clearly directed at Blaine, and there's a rude reply muffled a bit by the door and Blaine's obvious inability to yell back without coughing violently.

"I think I'll just leave him here with you. He's such a delight to be around right now."

"I heard that!"

Jason rolls his eyes and looks pleadingly at Kurt, lowering his voice.

"Please, tell me you can take care of him for a few hours. I’d do it in spite of everything, really, but I have to study and he’s not making it easy. The nurse was already here, so you’d only have to check that he keeps breathing and doesn’t drown in his own snot." He pauses. "And, you know - tolerate his obnoxiously sick self while doing it."

"Go," Kurt says with a smile. For some odd reason, he feels a bit more confident about holding himself together once he sees Blaine. He might not be able to deal with overconfident, bright and collected Blaine right now, but he can presumably take on sick, petulant, and probably still annoyingly-charming Blaine "I think, I'll manage."

Jason mouths a silent "Thank you" and thumps loudly on the door just for good measure.

"Hear that? Don't be a jerk to Kurt while I'm gone, Snotking!"

"Go away, Jason," Blaine croaks, and Jason smirks at Kurt.

"See? So much fun." Kurt shakes his head and gently pushes Jason to get him going; the other boy waves his free hand at Kurt and quickly disappears around the corner.

Well, here goes nothing.

Kurt pushes open the door, half-leaning against the frame to take a look inside. To say it's chaotic in there is a definite understatement. Blaine's not the tidiest person on a normal day, but sickness seems to have doubled his ability to generate mess. Kurt steps over a box of Kleenex as he makes his way inside.

"You still alive in there?" he tries.

"Nnnnrgh," groans Blaine, sprawled out like an upside-down starfish on the bed, limbs hanging over the sides. He's wearing a pair of faded blue sweatpants and a heinously bright green T-shirt. It's clearly too small and put on backwards, but it Kurt thinks it's kind of adorable. (No. Not going there, Kurt.) The three blankets scrunched up at Blaine's feet are mostly on the floor, with the exception of one that's halfway up his legs; Blaine kicks at them weakly and makes the hideous T-shirt hitch up a bit in the process, exposing a generous amount of skin with the movement. Kurt blinks, fast. (Not going there, either.)

"Come again?" Kurt asks instead as he silently closes the door behind him. Blaine makes an effort of pulling his face away from his pillow, only to rest his forehead on the back of his hands.

"I can't exactly breathe right now. Give me a moment and I'll get back to you on that." His voice sounds horrible, all nasally and hoarse, and Kurt can almost visualize Wes ripping his hair out upon hearing Blaine's rendition of Jason Mraz's 'I'm Yours' while he's simultaneously coughing and blowing his nose and spinning all over the stage - and not in a good, Warblers kind of way. (A small part of Kurt's brain supplies that Wes would deserve that after this morning's freak attack.)

Blaine's head falls back onto the pillow, blocking all air passages with it. Kurt waits for a few seconds and then asks, tentatively,

"Maybe if you tried breathing without the pillow?" Blaine turns around at that with a moan, flopping onto his back, hands coming up to massage at his temples.

"I thought that if I tried breathing through the pillow, and then without it, the 'without it' part would feel a bit different."

"And?"

"Turns out it's just about the same."

"What gave you this brilliant idea?" Kurt drawls.

"My genius kicks in sometimes, when I'm high on Advil."

"I can see that." Kurt edges his way closer to Blaine's bed, carefully avoiding the used tissues, discarded blankets, and pillows surrounding it. "You've built yourself a nice little cocoon."

"A cocoon made out of my tears and agony."

"You're holding up splendidly."

"Thanks; I try my best." Blaine returns in between two coughs.

"It looks like you've been abandoned, by the way. I think Jason stapled a Quarantine sign to your door."

"Traitors, all of them. I catch a little harmless-" Cough. Cough. "-cold and they scatter, like I've got rabies or something." Blaine groans and sits up slowly, holding his head in place.

It's not just his voice that's awful, Kurt ponders. He looks too pale and kind of shaky, his hair sticking out every which way; his nose is an angry red and his skin looks blotchy. When he seems to be steady again, he looks up at Kurt warily, eyes shining feverishly. That damn smile's on his face, though, the one that he can seemingly produce even when he's too sick to think straight - and that doesn't help the flitting, excitable feeling in Kurt's stomach.

But there's also a little snot bubble appearing in his nostril, and wow, that’s surprisingly helpful in getting Kurt back to the present.

Blaine's right hand flies up to his face, and he dabs a tissue at his nose quickly. "Oh, shit, sorry-"He doesn't look up for a while, but Kurt can see his neck getting a little red above the collar of his T-shirt. "That thing my nose just did?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd like you to forget it - please?"

"… Sure."

"Kurt?" Blaine peers out from behind his fingers and looks up at him pleadingly.

"Sorry, I was just saving my new phone background. It's titled, Blaine Anderson: Prince of Snotnia."

"You people with your snot-jokes are all evil and taking advantage of my delicate state of - is that tea?" Blaine lights up suddenly when he sees the mug Kurt's been nursing in his hands.

"Almost."

"Oh," Blaine deflates like a balloon and sags back against the wall. "I really need tea. Jason promised he’d bring me some, but he freaked out and left after I accidentally sneezed in his face."

"Guess he doesn't respond too well to mucus being spit all over his face-" Blaine gives Kurt a sad 'but I'm sick' stare and Kurt lets go of the subject "- and, as I was saying, it's not exactly tea, but it'll make you feel better. I promise."

"I don't need more medicine; I could open up my own pharmacy with the amount of pills and syrups the nurse supplied me with." Blaine motions at his desk, where Kurt can see a disarray of medicine boxes and pill bottles. "But I’ll strangle this cold with my bare hands anyway. So much better, see?"

He coughs. He sneezes. His eyes tear up. "Any moment now," Blaine mumbles resolutely.

"Slide over, Health Guru."

Kurt sits down next to him and holds out the mug for Blaine to take. Blaine reaches out and Kurt adds a quick, "Careful, it's hot."

"Thanks, Mom," Blaine huffs with a little smile and Kurt flushes, leaning back against the wall next to him. Blaine blows at the drink for a few seconds as Kurt tries to get comfortable on the crumpled sheets, avoiding the tissues that are scattered around the bed like landmines. As soon as he's settled somewhat comfortably next to Blaine, he feels the other boy's skin practically radiating heat, even with the layers of clothing separating them.

"Are you sure I shouldn't call the nurse back?" Kurt lifts up his right hand on instinct to touch it against Blaine's forehead and when he feels his burning skin, it's Blaine who winces slightly.

"Yes, I really should-" Kurt nods to himself, but Blaine catches his hand before Kurt can stand up and shakes his head slightly.

"It's okay, don't worry." There's no smart-ass comment this time; Blaine just smiles at him weakly. "Really; it always goes down like this. When I get sick, I feel like shit for twenty-four hours, but I’m perfectly fine the next day." He tries a reassuring smile, although it's anything but comforting for Kurt. "My immune system is perfect. Most days."

"I'd argue with that-" Kurt starts, but Blaine is giving him his kicked puppy eyes again, and Kurt gives up with a sigh. "Okay, fine - no nurse, but only if you take another Tylenol. I feel like I'm sitting next to a radiator.

"Maybe if you'd take off the scarf?" Blaine looks at him quizzically, fingers tangling in the heavy material of Kurt's long-forgotten anti-flu scarf.

"Can't."

"Why?" Blaine presses, and Kurt gives a noncommittal grunt. He really doesn't want to go into the details right now, because that would mean he'd actually have to talk about what happened at breakfast and what happened to him after that. Since Blaine is in no state to comprehend his rambling right now, he opts for the easy way out.

"Wes," he says simply, because at least it's not a lie.

"Enough said," Blaine croaks.

They sit in silence for a while, Blaine coughing every now and then until Kurt notices that Blaine's suspiciously avoiding looking at the cup in his hands and scrunches up his face when he sniffs at it.

"Well - aren't you going to drink it?"

"I don't, it's just-" a sigh, and then, "It's got bits in it," Blaine says, poking at the herbal flecks that slipped into the cup even after Kurt strained it as best as he could.

"Oh, don't be a baby, Blaine. It's not poisonous - I got this from a little Chinese herbal shop in Lima, and it does wonders to my voice when I get sore throat. I put honey in it, too so stop complaining."

"It must be tasty," Blaine mumbles with a little frown, and sips carefully. "No, it's really not," he adds, disappointed.

"Blaine-"

"Okay, okay! Drinking - see?" He makes faces anyway, but Kurt can't really blame him for it. He knows how it tastes from his own experience with the drink: sour and bitter, even with enormous amounts of honey. Blaine gulps down the rest of it quickly.

"Well, I hope it does some damage to the cold after it's done burning away my taste buds."

"Oh, for the love of-" Kurt mutters, because sick Blaine is worse than his dad and Finn combined, and this was really not what he had in mind when he got here; Blaine is doing a very fine job distracting him. Kurt rummages through his bag and holds up a small thermos in surrender. "I give up. Here's your 'real' tea."

Blaine lets out a long-suffering, snot-filled sigh. "Thank you."

"But you'll deal with Wes if your voice turns out like Tom Waits's by tomorrow."

"Is it really that bad?" Blaine tries to clear his throat, but only ends up in a coughing fit.

" All due respect to the man, but not everyone can pull off that 'too raspy for the human ear to process' tone," Kurt remarks, and Blaine shakes his head in surrender.

"So - I guess you have more of that vile concoction."

"If you ask for it politely."

"You are way too good at this." Blaine mumbles warily.

"And you like me anyway."

It comes out playful and light but when it sinks in a moment later, Kurt feels himself flush all over. As much as he would like to get it out of his system, it might not be the best idea to discuss… possibilities with Blaine while he can barely stay upright. Not now, and not like this.

Blaine looks at him with calm, shining eyes and Kurt is about to open his mouth to say something inane to change the subject, but he doesn't have to. Blaine takes care of the momentary silence by scrunching up his nose and sneezing violently - and thankfully - into a tissue. Blaine takes a moment to recover, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Yeah, okay well, I think I've just sneezed my brains out. So I'm just gonna sit here and drool on you if you don't mind."

They're still sitting shoulder to shoulder, but Blaine's leaning into Kurt's side a bit now and Kurt scoots down lower on the bed to support his weight. He snags the comforter scrunched up at their feet and drapes it over Blaine. Blaine hums softly, and Kurt fights off the urge to reach out and touch the damp curls that threaten to fall across his forehead. He should be given a medal for his self-restraint.

"So, how was your day?" Blaine asks out of the blue and Kurt let's out a little laugh in disbelief.

"Seriously?"

"Of course. I've been deprived of human interaction all day, Kurt. No one was willing to talk to me without a makeshift mask. It was kind of depressing."

"How was your day?" Kurt counters incredulously, looking down at Blaine, who still has his eyes closed. He's shifted a bit, though; his head is still propped up against the wall, but it's only inches away from Kurt's shoulder.

"It got better after I texted you this morning - or, at least that's what I thought. Then I tried to stand up and it very quickly got horrible, and it's been pretty consistently nauseating from that moment on. At least the room's stopped spinning now, so I can count that as good thing, I guess. Your turn."

"It started out awful," - confusing, and frightening and even more confusing, - "but it's getting better."

"So my suffering cheers you up?"

"Oh, immensely."

"Glad to be of service, then."

At some point, Blaine's head ends up on Kurt's shoulder after all, a light weight pressing down on him. Kurt doesn't know if the move is conscious or not, but either way he's definitely welcoming it. They sit in a silence for awhile that's broken only by Blaine's wheezing breaths and the occasional bout of coughing. Kurt snags the mostly empty cup out of Blaine's hands before he has a chance to spill it all over himself, and when Blaine makes a questioning noise, Kurt says,

"Wouldn't want to ruin your T-shirt." Kurt motions at the inside-out green mess Blaine chose to wear; he can just about make out the name of an unidentifiable band crisscrossing over the fabric.

Blaine doesn’t miss Kurt’s disdain. "Don't mock the shirt. It's not its fault that I can't dress myself when faced with potentially life-threatening illnesses."

"Still not overreacting, I see?" Kurt asks, nudging Blaine's shoulder gently.

"I think I have a right to do that today."

"At least the color matches your-"

"If you mention my snot in there somewhere," Blaine says warningly "I can't be held responsible for my actions."

Kurt bites off the remark that threatens to escape and props his head up against the wall instead.

There must be something really wrong with his head, Kurt decides. He spent the whole day freaking out over Blaine, but when he has Blaine flush against his side, head lolling on Kurt's shoulder, Kurt feels more relaxed then he has all day.

Blaine shifts against him, and Kurt lifts up his arm on autopilot to accommodate him. Blaine murmurs a nearly inaudible "Thank you" into the fabric of Kurt's shirt as Kurt lets his right hand settle on Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine's breathing starts to even out eventually, his body relaxing into Kurt's side more and more, and his head gets heavier on Kurt’s shoulder as he begins to slip into unconsciousness. All the tension in his body slowly dissipates with his sleepiness, and Kurt can tell that Blaine is barely straddling the line between awake and asleep. Blaine's voice comes out thick and heavy, when he speaks up again.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks… for being here."

"You'd have done the same for me," Kurt whispers back, not sure if Blaine still hears him through the haze of sickness and exhaustion. Blaine doesn't answer, but his head falls forward just a bit, resting on Kurt's chest, his breaths warming Kurt's skin through his shirt. He's asleep, and Kurt's mind makes one last-ditch effort to offer him a chance to save himself before he's ultimately overcome by a feeling way more dangerous and threatening than just simple hope.

Kurt looks down at Blaine's messy, dark head pressed against him, mouth slightly open, and suddenly, everything he hasn't dared to name before comes crushing back to him. Kurt runs out of all the excuses and all the reasons he came up with to make his plans work, because fuck that - he's not going to sit back and hope for some unnamable thing to happen anymore. He doesn't just want to kiss the living hell out of the boy in his arms; he's in love. He has inadvertently, undeniably, and irrevocably fallen for the boy who took his hand on a staircase not three months ago and pulled him into something stunning and surreal just by being himself.

Kurt is painfully aware of the fact that he's currently stomping on his simple, easy dreams with a substantial pair of mental combat boots, because what he's feeling right now is definitely not simple and he could be very wrong again and wouldn't it be just great to go down that road and why the hell does the voice that singsongs "You're screwed!" in his head sound remarkably like Brittany's-?

"I think we may have a problem here," Kurt says matter-of-factly to the unhelpfully silent room, "And I could really use your input on the situation, you know?"

Blaine snores noncommittally against his shirt, and Kurt has to agree. He feels his own eyelids getting heavier with each passing second, Blaine's warmth somehow numbing his senses, and he closes his eyes, momentarily blocking out the harsh light coming from the bedside lamp.

***

Kurt stirs awake to the sound of Jason's voice, the other boy gently shaking him back into awareness and thankfully not mentioning the way Blaine is practically half resting in his lap. Kurt slips out of the room, claiming curfew and studying and he's more than glad that Jason doesn't engage him in an awkward conversation about his unusual healing methods.

Once outside, Kurt leans back against the door for a moment and stares ahead into the flickering lights of the hallway.

God, he is officially, completely screwed.

*Step and Sway*

By the end of February, Kurt knows a few things for certain.

The first is that putting a nice label on his feelings doesn't help him act upon them anymore than he did before his 'epiphany'.

The second is that obviously no one has informed Blaine that Kurt is quite ready to be in love with him now, thank you very much. Although the Warblers keep smirking at them wickedly, none of them are willing to smack Blaine upside the head and put Kurt out of his misery.

The third, is that - although not strictly part of the aforementioned problems, and even though it's embarrassing and lame to even admit it, it's so there that Kurt has no chance but to include it on his list, so yeah, third - is that Blaine has picked up the strangely exciting habit of showing up to their movie nights in tight-fitting jeans and even more tight-fitting, oddly colored T-shirts. Consequently, Kurt has had to spend more time in the bathroom than watching the actual movie.

Things were quickly getting out of hand (no pun intended).

And there's a fourth item slowly but surely formulating in his mind, one that's more of an advice for the future and less of a fact: dress more weather-appropriate when going out for a 'chill-the-fuck-out' walk around the school in knee-deep snow and a below freezing temperature.

Maybe he should just put that one on the top of his list, Kurt muses as he very nearly trips over his own legs because he can't feel his right little toe anymore - and isn't it supposed to be spring already, anyway? The only thing that's blossoming is his ever-present obsession with stupid Blaine's stupid jeans, and his stupid smile on his stupid face.

Kurt kicks at the heap of snow rapidly piling up in front of him; a numbed pain shoots through his right leg along with the motion. He's usually not the type to go out and frolic in strange weather anomalies or hop around in the snow like a bunny on crack, but special circumstances had led to this new and somewhat disturbing event in his life.

Dalton is snowed in, and he is stuck here almost completely alone because he was thoughtful enough to drive back early to avoid the freaking blizzard that was ripping through town, only to be rewarded with the announcement that classes had been canceled for Monday. But hey, he can always stay there anyway. The dorms are mostly empty; the only other students Kurt bumped into were a couple of seniors who always stayed at Dalton for the whole weekend.

Kurt had considered driving back to Lima at first, but by the time he got back out to his car, it had been covered in more snow than he was willing to dig his way through. Even if he had, he couldn't imagine a safe way to navigate when he couldn't even see more than a few feet in front of him. So he'd reluctantly called his dad and spent forty agonizing minutes convincing him that no, there really was no need for him to drive all the way to Westerville to pick Kurt up, and yes, Dalton had working heating and no, he was not going to starve to death in one night.

But, as it'd turned out, sitting alone in a dorm room surrounded by deafening silence and too many teenage hormones had driven him a little bit crazy, and he'd developed this sudden urge to just go out in the snow and keep on not thinking about Blaine there.

So that's where he is now.

He doesn't know exactly how long he's been out here, but, judging from the fact that he's started to feel remarkably close to a snowman in body temperature, he suspects it must have been a while. He contemplates heading inside while hopping around on one leg like an idiot to get some feeling back in his limbs. He should, but it would mean that he would be alone in his room again, with his feelings, and since he seems to have a lot of those lately, that's really not an option.

Bone-numbing cold is good, perfect even, and with the wind relentlessly blowing icy snowflakes in his face, Kurt is more preoccupied with keeping his eyes open than thinking about Blaine.

Because he is definitely not thinking about him.

Kurt is not thinking about Blaine and his stupid smile the day after Blaine gets better from his cold and spends the next day perched on the edge of Kurt's bed while Kurt suffers through his own share of - inevitable - sickness. Kurt is not thinking about Blaine and his stupid offer to watch Casablanca on Valentine's Day, when Kurt was too miserable to even consider going home to face the annual New Directions Coupling Season he's sure is taking place at McKinley. And Kurt is most certainly not thinking about the way Blaine lingered in his doorway afterwards, looking too stupidly adorable for his own good and saying something about Valentine's Day not being such a let down after all, and, after subtly staring at Kurt's lips for five seconds - not that Kurt was counting or anything -, went on his merry way like nothing remotely interesting had happened, leaving Kurt dumbfounded once again.

Kurt sighs into his scarf, the thin material barely giving him any protection against the sharp wind.

It's not very often that this happens, but Kurt kind of wishes he was fifteen again. When he was fifteen - and God, it feels like that was ages ago -, he imagined that, once he got around to the point in his life when he met a nice guy who actually likes him, he'd want things to be slow. He imagined longing stares, poems and singing and all the stuff that everybody else found cheesy and clichéd, but Kurt wanted them anyway because they seemed so unattainable at the time. After all, how could something be a cliché if it never actually happened to you?

Now that Kurt is sixteen and actually has a guy who maybe-hopefully likes him, and Kurt has the chance for slow and romantic, all he wants is for Blaine to march up to him and kiss him silly in the middle of whatever the hell it is that Kurt is doing in a snowstorm at that precise moment. Which, Kurt guesses, is also sort of a cliché, but once again: never happened to him and he'd like an opportunity to decide it for himself. Like, really soon, because if this goes on any further, his head might just explode from the confusing mess that's currently occupying his every waking moment.

His phone buzzes in his coat and it takes Kurt a minute to peel the gloves off his frozen hands to take a look,

freaking snow, it reads, Blaine's name flashing in blue on his screen and there are some other words written on there, but Kurt can't quite process them, because something just snapped in his brain and okay.

Right.

In hindsight, it probably would have been a good idea to ask Blaine what he actually meant, because at that moment, Kurt - with his half frozen fingers and drenched jeans and utterly hazy mind - kind of took it as a cue to start acting like he was fifteen again: rash, impulsive, and so freaking determined all of a sudden, and he presses the call button before he has a chance to chicken out. Blaine picks up after the first ring.

"Hey-"

"Why the hell haven't you kissed me yet?" Kurt yells into his phone, and Blaine inhales sharply over the line. Kurt doesn't mean to shout, but he has to talk over the wind and he really wants to get his point across. He finds that he can't stop blabbering, now that he's started. "Because I really need to know, you know, so, you know, I can get over it and drown myself in ice cream and sappy music and go back and try to ignore the way you make me happy and relaxed and in love all the time!"

"Kurt, wait, where are-"

"I don't do subtle, Blaine!" he shouts again, over the wind, over sensible Blaine and his own remaining sanity. "I do screaming, I do diva, I do head-over-heels in love, but I don't do subtle! I tried and failed spectacularly, see? I can't-"

He yelps, flails, and lands ass down in the snow, phone flying out of his hand and ow, he has got to stop doing that. Maybe it's the sudden change of perspective, or the way the melting snow is slowly seeping into his jeans, but he feels the beginning of the familiar hysteria rapidly bubbling up inside him.

"Oh, shit. Oh, no. Nonono!" He scrambles for his phone, but the thing is hidden somewhere under miles of snow and he really has no time for this. He breaks into a run as soon as he feels somewhat steady on his legs again, slipping every other step, and he really has to consider taking up running in the snow as an extracurricular, because his thighs are burning more with the effort of trying to move so quickly than they ever did during Coach Sylvester's vigorous exercise routines.

He reaches the dorms and smiles weakly at a passing terrified senior. Kurt would be terrified too, if he was greeted by someone who looked like he'd been hiking in Siberia. Kurt breaks for the staircase, taking two steps at a time as he formulates his Skype message to Blaine, and how Blaine should take into consideration that Kurt's brain might have been a little muddled at the time and that he was actually attacked by rabid bunnies that had turned him into a scrambled mess of frozen horror.

He reaches his door, close to tears, now; his hands are burning and angry red and he can't seem to catch his breath. He tries to slip the key into the hole, but it falls from his grip once, twice, and when it does slide in, the thing just won't turn-

The door bursts open, and Kurt blinks at the sudden burst of light and oh-

"Wrong door," he pants pathetically.

"Wrong floor," Blaine adds, but he's pulling Kurt inside by the sleeve of his coat and Kurt follows numbly, unable to do anything but pant helplessly and bury his icy fingers in the warmth of Blaine's sweater. Blaine grabs hold of his arms, looks him over with slightly manic eyes, and then unceremoniously pushes him down on his bed.

Kurt doesn't even dare to squeak or move, because Blaine looks angry, furious, so Kurt sits there and waits for the inevitable, unable to stop his teeth from chattering. Blaine can't stop pacing across his room, and Kurt starts to feel dizzy from it.

"A-are yo-you a-angry?" Kurt stutters, but shuts up immediately, when Blaine whirls on him.

"Of course, I'm fucking angry, Kurt!"

Kurt flinches and opens his mouth to explain, shout, cry, or something, but he can't form the words and Blaine isn't finished anyway.

"You scared the shit out of me!" He seems genuinely terrified, even though he's still shouting and that's definitely not right.

"What-?" Kurt whispers brokenly but Blaine just drops down on his knees in front of him, not looking him in the eye, and starts to unlace and then yank off Kurt's shoes with more force than is probably necessary. Blaine then barks out an order for Kurt to take off his coat, and Kurt tries to obey, too stunned to even think about turning on his bitch-mode, but his hands won't cooperate and he keeps missing the buttons until Blaine reaches up and does it for him, sliding the coat down over his shivering shoulders and then he's suddenly enveloped in a warm comforter from head to toe.

What follows is silence, one of the uncomfortable ones, with Kurt still shuddering violently under the blankets and Blaine still crouched down in front of him. Kurt is slowly becoming aware of Blaine's hands resting on his knees, his fingers flexing over them every now and then. Kurt reaches out hesitantly, barely touching their fingers together; Blaine tenses up and Kurt waits.

"You scared the shit out of me," Blaine repeats, but the anger is gone from his voice. It's replaced by something that makes Kurt's eyes sting from more than just the cold.

"Blaine, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to just drop this on you-" he starts, but he can't finish, because Blaine is leaning in and he's pressing their foreheads together and Kurt momentarily forgets how to breathe.

"It's not that," Blaine says and the words reverberate against Kurt's lips, making them tingle even more. Blaine tangles his fingers in Kurt's hair on the back of his head and leans back just a bit, so he can look Kurt in the eyes. He's smiling nervously, apologetically. "I thought the worst."

"Why-"

"I was going to call you because of school and tell you not to come and then when you called - I thought you were driving or something, it was so loud, and you were screaming at me and then you freaking yelled, and the line went dead and then you didn't pick up. I assumed-"

"That I wasn't just out in the snow and fell on my ass?"

"- and not trapped under an avalanche somewhere on the way to school?" Blaine barely cracks a smile. "No; your version wasn't very high on my freak out list."

"I don't think there are that many avalanches in Ohio," Kurt says, a smile tugging at his lips and Blaine huffs out a breath and slips his hand lower on Kurt's neck. He still hasn't pulled away completely and Kurt lets himself warm to his touch, closing his eyes.

"About the other thing, though," Blaine says, his voice a bit scratchy and it sounding suddenly very close again and Kurt doesn't even have time to open his eyes. Then he just doesn't want to, because Blaine's lips are on his, and he hums softly against him.

It's tentative and still a bit shaky, and Kurt knows his lips are chapped and cold, but Blaine doesn't seem to mind. Kurt is starting to move past warm and into steamy when Blaine shifts back a bit, putting a little distance between them.

"I think this answers my question," Kurt says, blinking his eyes open and unconsciously licking his lips. He doesn't miss the way Blaine's eyes follow the motion.

"Near death situations tend to call out my inner courage," Blaine admits, brushing his thumbs over Kurt's cheek.

"I don't think my general clumsiness counts as 'near death'."

"Are you complaining?"

"Oh God, no," Kurt says immediately, smiling back at Blaine, and wow - that's how love should feel like, after all. It's not easy or simple, but it's pretty damn amazing.

This time, it's Kurt who leans in for more, and they don't surface for quite a while. Blaine plays with the edge of the comforter when they finally pull away.

"I guess I just wanted to say - I'm sorry for screwing with your head for so long. At first, I though you needed time, and then I kind of realized that I needed some time, too, and then it just sort of - got out of hand."

"You don't say." Kurt says, rolling his eyes affectionately. "Perhaps I should have given you more hints,"

"Wes was kind enough to remind me every single time I didn't make a move, thank you very much."

"How thoughtful of him," Kurt says, then frowns a little. "Also, a little creepy."

"He just knows stuff. And he likes to make you aware that he knows it better than you."

"I noticed," Kurt snorts as they sink back against the pillows. Blaine just barely avoids elbowing him in the groin and then they're laughing, because that just would ruin it now, wouldn't it?

***

Later, they make their way out to the school yard - Blaine calling Kurt's phone while Kurt leans over piles of snow, trying to hear it buzzing somewhere. Blaine has other ideas when nothing comes of it, though, and after a while there's more kissing and less looking, but Kurt is the last person to complain about that.

Kurt's plans might not have been flawless, but Blaine's hadn't been either - and that it still worked out in the end? Made everything so worth it.

End.