Fic: Glee: Than the Sum of its Parts (Kurt/Blaine, this part PG-13) 2/5
Thank you for all of the lovely feedback so far. :)
Title: "Than the Sum of its Parts" 2/5
Author: flaming muse
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: overall R, this part PG-13
Word count: this part 5100, overall 30k+
Summary: The whole of Kurt and Blaine’s relationship is greater than the sum of its parts. Scenes of two boys in love.
Spoilers: the story starts during 2x16 (“Original Song”) and ends in the summer after 2x22 (“New York”)
Warnings: unrepentant fluff
Disclaimers: The characters belong to various corporate Powers That Be. I make absolutely no profit from playing with them.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback is lovely!
Author’s note: This story is complete and has five sections; one will be posted each day for five days.
Part one and complete author’s notes.
The problem with being teenagers, besides relentless hormones and the potential for acne, is that they just don’t have a good, reliable, private space to spend time together. Blaine’s dorm room has a roommate, Kurt’s house has his family, Dalton has teachers, librarians, and proctors, and pretty much everywhere else is, well, public. So while Kurt and Blaine spend as much time as they can steal in private, they are also forced out into the rest of the world quite a bit.
Mostly Blaine doesn’t mind. He likes going for coffee or to the mall, the latter primarily because of how Kurt’s eyes light up at finding the perfect new accessory, and he loves sitting across from Kurt in a restaurant and being on a date with his boyfriend. It’s still magical, even when the dim candle is electric and the breadsticks are stale.
Still, there are nights like this one when he feels like there is nothing more important in the world - not world peace, not the cure for cancer, not a new album by Katy Perry - than him being able to have time alone with Kurt with a locked door between them and everyone else.
Part of the problem is that they were supposed to have had a semi-private evening together with Burt and Carole out with friends and Finn playing video games in his room with Puck, but Carole threw out her back at work yesterday and is at home on the couch with painkillers and a doting husband. So instead of lying on that very couch with Kurt making out through some musical of Kurt’s choosing when Finn and Puck weren’t wandering through, as they’d unofficially planned, Blaine is out for a walk with him in the twilight. Normally he’d be happy enough about a walk, but it had been a hard week and he was really looking forward to the time alone.
He tries to shake it off and bask in Kurt’s presence. It mostly works, but he’s jumpy in his skin. He really wants to do something to burn off this extra energy. Since making out with Kurt isn’t an option, when he sees a deserted playground he tugs on Kurt’s hand and drags him inside through the squeaking gate. Perfect.
Kurt slows. “This is a playground.”
“What tipped you off?” Blaine asks as he walks backwards and continues to pull him along. “The slides? The swings? The bouncing dinosaur things?”
“I should have known you were actually five,” Kurt says, crossing his arms over his chest as Blaine leaves him behind to jump on the monkey bars. Blaine has to bend his legs not to drag on the ground as he travels hand over hand along them, but the burn in his arms and stretch in his chest feels good after being so tight with frustration from endless schoolwork and Warblers practices with no competition in sight.
“I’m six,” Blaine tells him, swinging off of the end. “And a half.”
“Of course you are.” With a roll of his eyes visible even in the dwindling light, Kurt hesitates for a moment and then lowers himself stiffly onto one of the swings.
“Aw, come on, Kurt. Playgrounds are fun.”
“If you are six.” Kurt, however, does push off a little with his feet and swings gently as he watches Blaine. Blaine smiles just seeing it.
“And a half.”
“And a half,” Kurt agrees. His voice is off, like he’s trying to be annoyed but is actually secretly amused. The secret is out when Blaine leaps up onto the zig-zagging balance beam and easily speeds across it; Kurt laughs. “Do you have to jump on everything? Is it a compulsion? Do you need therapy for it? You can tell me; I won't judge.”
Blaine spins on one foot at the end of the beam like he’s done a million times while performing and jumps off backwards. “My only compulsion is you,” he tells Kurt and then gets a better look at the huge wooden play structure on the other side of the playground. “Oh my god, it’s a ship.”
“What are you talking about?” he hears Kurt say, but Blaine doesn’t wait.
He jogs over and contemplates the best way in. There are stairs and a ramp on one side and a ladder on the other, but the rope netting looks the most fun. By the time Kurt strolls over, his hands in the pockets of his coat, Blaine has scrambled up the netting, bounced across the jiggling bridge, squirmed through a series of tunnels, and ended up at the bow of the ship. He spins the wooden wheel and then stands at the point of the prow, spreads his arms, and proclaims, “I’m the king of the world!”
Kurt squints up at him in the semi-darkness. “Really? Titanic? The movie is almost as old as we are.”
“It’s a classic.”
“No, An Affair to Rememberis a classic; Titanic is just a bloated excuse for special effects set around a stupid love story.”
Blaine can’t really disagree with that, so he just grins and says, “How many times have you seen it?”
Kurt scowls at him. Blaine waits. “Five,” Kurt finally admits.
“You should come up here,” Blaine says, laughing.
“Why?”
“Because I’m up here.” Blaine leans over the edge and smiles his most winning smile down at Kurt.
After a moment Kurt sighs, and Blaine knows he’s won. Kurt considers the complicated and dirty structure, looks down at his clothes, and then stretches up to grab the railing next to Blaine. He fits the toe of his boot in a gap in the wall, braces his long arms, and pulls himself up, swinging over the edge in a graceful, apparently effortless movement. He lands lightly on his feet beside Blaine and dusts off his hands.
“Hi,” Blaine says, his mouth suddenly dry. He forgets, sometimes, that Kurt was a cheerleader and is so flexible and strong. It’s probably good that he does or he’d never get any of his school work done.
Kurt brushes off his jacket. “Hi.”
“That was pretty cool.” Hot. It was pretty hot, but Blaine is trying to be good.
“Well, there was no way I was climbing through those tunnels in this outfit.” Kurt looks at them with a moue of distaste. “Or any outfit.”
Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and leads him up to the prow. “Come on. Do you want to be Kate or Leo?”
“Neither, thank you.”
“That’s no fun.” Blaine leans out with his arms spread again.
“And you are ridiculous.”
“I’m pretty sure you meant to say adorable.”
“Blaine.” Kurt slips his arms around Blaine’s waist and turns him around. The second they are facing each other Kurt kisses him slowly and thoroughly, and Blaine melts into it. He can’t help it. He doesn’t want to help it.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all afternoon,” Kurt whispers against Blaine’s mouth.
“Me, too,” Blaine admits and kisses him harder.
Blaine expects Kurt to pull away after a few seconds, but he doesn’t. He just keeps kissing and kissing, all hot breath and lips and tongue, and heat begins to spread through Blaine’s body, unfurling slowly and pushing out all other thoughts.
He pulls Kurt in closer, leaning back and resting their weight against the notch of the prow. The position makes Kurt seem even taller, and Blaine slides his hands up Kurt’s back to curl over his shoulders, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. Kurt doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He just tightens his own arm around Blaine’s waist, tips Blaine’s head back with a hand at his jaw, and kisses him more deeply.
It would be so, so easy to forget where they were. Blaine has gotten so used to kissing Kurt over the past weeks that he feels like he goes through withdrawal when they can’t touch. He’s going to have a long night in the dorm after he goes home and an even longer Sunday tomorrow without Kurt, and all he wants to do is soak in every bit of Kurt he can. Still, he knows he has to be good. They're outside, they have to go back to Kurt's busy house soon, and they are taking things slowly, anyway.
But when Kurt presses him back harder against the wooden rail and their hips come into contact, Blaine can't stop himself from moaning and grinding up against him. He's hard, and - fuck - he can feel Kurt is hard, too, and they usually are so careful to keep space between them, and it is ridiculously hot to feel Kurt right there, wanting him, and all he wants is to keep rubbing against him, and -
Blaine manages to break away from the kiss, though Kurt just starts sucking on his throat, which doesn't really help at all, and he finds some hidden reservoir of strength to jerk his hips back and say, "Sorry, sorry."
Kurt lifts his head, and Blaine can see that his pupils are blown wide. "What on earth are you sorry about?" he asks hoarsely.
"The... hip thing?"
Kurt blinks at him for a moment, reason returning to his face, and then he starts to grin.
"What?"
"And to think we assumed I'd be the awkward one when it came to be talking about this topic." He leans in and kisses Blaine softly just beneath his jaw on the side of his throat.
"Hey - "
"'Hip thing'?" Kurt continues. "Really?"
"I'm just trying to be a gentleman," Blaine says, stung.
"You are always a gentleman," Kurt says more softly, and he kisses Blaine on the mouth, swiftly and sweetly. "But you really don't have anything to be sorry for." He falters, then, and takes a half step back. "Unless it was too fast for you, and I should be apologizing. For the, uh, hip thing."
"No. No." Blaine tugs him back into a hug. "I..." Kurt is still looking nervous, and Blaine tells himself he can be honest. He should be. "I liked it."
Kurt smiles, and it goes straight to Blaine's chest, making him ache. He wants Kurt to smile at him all the time. "I did, too. Even if now I really don't want you to have to go home."
"Let me stay here a little longer," Blaine says, unable to conceive of having to let him go.
"Okay," Kurt says, simple as that, and kisses him again. When things get heated again soon after, Blaine does not even think of pulling away.
When they get back to the house, Blaine’s pants are way too tight, and he can barely look Mr. Hummel in the eye before he grabs his keys and heads for his car, but Kurt is still smiling, so Blaine can't find it in himself to care all that much. He kisses Kurt by the car, long and slow, and holds Kurt by the wrist, just for a minute, to feel the answering pounding of his boyfriend’s pulse before he leaves.
*
It isn’t that Blaine doesn’t know how to tie a tie, because obviously he does, but right now he just can’t make it work. This morning he tied it perfectly with a piece of toast in his mouth and half his attention on Facebook, but he clearly has lost the knack in the past two hours. It looks awful. Maybe it’s that his hands are damp from washing them. Maybe it’s that Jeff (in retaliation for Blaine’s organized straw wrapper bombardment at lunch earlier in the week) yanked his tie off in the parking lot of the retirement community the Warblers are performing at in five minutes - if their lead soloist can get into his uniform - and crumpled the material as he ran away laughing and flying it overhead like a banner. Either way Blaine cannot get the knot to sit right. It tightens at an odd angle. It rumples and twists. It mocks him in the mirror.
The door to the men’s room opens, but Blaine doesn’t look over, because getting himself ready for the performance is even more important than being polite. He just tugs at the knot in frustrated little movements that he hopes will create a miracle.
“What on earth are you doing?” Kurt asks. He sounds horrified, and his eyes are wide when Blaine meets them.
"A half-windsor?"
“Stop that right now,” Kurt says sharply and moves Blaine’s hands away. He frowns down at Blaine’s throat. “Blaine. What did this tie ever do to you?”
Blaine gestures to it. "It won't knot right."
With gentle hands, Kurt slips the tie loose from Blaine's collar, the friction of the motion warming Blaine’s neck, or maybe that’s just from Kurt being near. Kurt inspects the material. "No wonder it won't take a clean knot; you've abused it. Seriously, how long have you been wearing a Dalton uniform? This isn't pure silk, you know. You can't expect it to act like a more quality fabric."
“I don’t really care what it is,” Blaine says with a little frustration, because the last thing he needs is a lecture right now. “I just need it to tie properly.”
Kurt runs the tie through his hands, stroking and smoothing out the wrinkles. “Your clothes won’t work for you if you don’t treat them with respect,” he says absently, like his mind is more on Blaine’s abused tie than on Blaine himself. It’s a little ego-bruising, really.
“The good thing about blends, though,” Kurt continues, “is that they generally require fewer apologies to get them back into shape. There.” He drapes the now flat tie over his arm and reaches up to flip up Blaine’s collar. The back of his hand is soft and warm where it brushes against Blaine’s cheek as he works. Then he takes the tie and puts it around Blaine’s neck, deftly weaving it into a knot.
He’s close, close enough to smell his aftershave, close enough to feel his breath, close enough to kiss if Blaine gave into the urge.
“Isn’t that hard to do backwards?” Blaine blurts out, because otherwise he’s just standing here staring at Kurt’s face and lowered eyes and long eyelashes and cheekbones and is going to start reacting to his proximity the way he always does, which is wildly inconvenient three minutes before a show.
“I’ve been doing it for my dad for years,” Kurt replies, his attention still fixed on the tie in his hands. He pulls it snug at Blaine’s collar, flips the collar back down, and adjusts the folds of the knot. “I swear he’d wear a clip-on if it weren’t for me.”
Blaine is struck by the realization that he’s watched his parents in this same position over the years, his mother fussing with his father’s tie on their way out somewhere, and he’s seen it a million times with married couples on TV. The thought almost rocks Blaine back on his heels. Not that it’s the same, because obviously a big part of the whole appeal of Kurt to Blaine is that he is not female and even if he were he wouldn’t be Blaine’s wife, but there’s something about the act of one person caring for another in such a simple way that makes his stomach flip and his heart rise into his throat.
He has this. He really does. He has a boyfriend. He has someone who cares about him. Him. They’re a couple. He’s part of a couple.
“There. Perfect.” Kurt tucks the end of Blaine’s tie into his blazer and steps back. “Ready?”
Blaine nods. “Thank you.” His voice doesn’t sound quite like his own, but Kurt doesn’t seem to notice.
“I am always available for any sort of wardrobe emergency.”
“I’m counting on it.” Blaine realizes he is. He can, because Kurt’s his boyfriend. He smiles and guides Kurt toward the door with a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, I really want to sing.”
*
Spring in Ohio is mercurial at best. The morning can start out sunny and with the promise of blue skies and calm breezes, and by the evening it can be raw and damp enough to leave bare skin feeling clammy. It is why Kurt reads at least two different weather feeds every morning, he explains, so that he has all of the appropriate wardrobe selections he might need throughout the day.
Blaine mostly just looks outside and grabs something from his closet.
“You know, you can get the weather forecast on your phone,” Kurt tells him as Blaine attempts not to look cold in his short sleeves as he helps Kurt wash the dishes after another weekend dinner at the Hummel-Hudson house. “As well as your computer. And this amazing new device called the television.”
“Television? Gosh, is that anything like a radio?” Blaine asks, nudging Kurt with his elbow. He doesn’t let himself linger, even though Kurt and the sweater he is wearing are both warm.
“Yes, but it has pictures that move.”
Blaine rises up on his toes to put the last of the plates away. “Wow. What will they think of next? Horseless carriages? Shoes you don’t shine?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. A properly shined shoe will always be a thing of beauty.” Kurt wipes his hands and hangs the dishtowel on its hook. “Thank you for your help.”
“My pleasure,” Blaine says smiling at him.
Kurt glances out into the living room and then comes over to Blaine where he’s leaning against the counter. He leans in for a soft, quick kiss and then runs his hands down Blaine’s arms. Goosebumps rise along the path of Kurt’s touch, and they’re not just from the pleasure of it. “Oh, you are cold,” he says with a frown.
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s fifty degrees out, and you are wearing a t-shirt.”
Blaine shrugs, because he is pretty chilly, but it doesn’t seem manly to admit it.
Kurt rolls his eyes like he can read Blaine’s mind. “Come here.” He takes Blaine’s hand and leads him upstairs.
“Keep the door open,” Kurt’s dad calls behind them.
“We’ll only be a minute, Dad,” Kurt calls back.
Kurt drops Blaine’s hand as soon as they’re in his room, and he heads straight for his closet. “Hmm, let me see...”
Having had enough experience with Kurt and his wardrobe, Blaine sits on the bed and prepares to amuse himself for a little while. He’s about to pull out his phone when Kurt turns around with a deep grey cardigan in his hands. “Here.”
“What’s this?” When Blaine takes it, he finds that it is dense and soft; his fingers warm up immediately.
“A sweater. It’s from last year,” Kurt admits, “but it should fit you. And it goes with your shirt.”
Blaine looks back and forth between Kurt and the cardigan. He knows how Kurt treasures his clothes. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Between you and me, it’s machine washable.” Kurt whispers the last two words, and Blaine can’t help but grin at him. “But I’d trust you with a McQueen.”
Blaine is struck momentarily speechless by that statement, and Kurt takes the sweater from him and holds it out by its lapels.
“Put it on, Blaine,” Kurt says. There’s a frown forming in his eyes. “Or - “
Shaking his head, Blaine stands up and turns so that Kurt can help him put it on. It is so warm, and he feels even warmer when Kurt walks around him and carefully buttons it up partway. The brush of his fingers through the layers of material makes Blaine’s breath catch.
“There.” Kurt smooths down the sweater over Blaine’s chest and steps back. He appraises him for a moment. “I think it looks better on you than it does on me,” he says with some surprise.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Like I ever joke about fashion.”
Blaine laughs, just a little, and says, “Thank you for lending it to me.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Kurt tells him, his eyes gleaming as they rove up and down Blaine’s body. “In more ways than one. Huh.” He takes Blaine’s hand again, holding it tightly. “I am learning new things about myself tonight.”
“Oh?”
A flush rises on Kurt’s cheeks. “Apparently I like you wearing my clothes.”
“Are you criticizing my fashion sense?”
“No. I just like you being mine.”
Blaine’s heart skips a beat. “I like it, too,” he says, and Kurt gives him a brilliant smile and another soft kiss that turns into four or five before Kurt’s dad calls them back downstairs.
The sweater is warm, but the thing that really wards off Blaine’s chill is the way Kurt looks at him, thoughtful and possessive, for the rest of the night.
*
Homework is a necessary evil.
Obviously Blaine wants a good future, and that means a good education, which means going to a good college, which means getting good grades at Dalton, which means doing his homework. So he does it, and he honestly doesn't mind all that much, because he is pretty smart and likes learning. It can be a drag, but it isn't horrible.
Well, it wasn't horrible before he started dating Kurt. Back when they were just friends, they could share one of the big wooden tables in the library for the afternoon and sit in comfortable silence as they did their work. Occasionally they might exchange sympathetic glances or trade whispered complaints about their assignments. It was a nice way to feel less alone with their books. It made the time go faster.
Now when they sit together, though, Blaine can't concentrate at all. He's distracted by the warmth of Kurt's ankle tucked against his own beneath the table, by the golden afternoon light glinting off of Kurt's eyelashes, by the way Kurt's long fingers grip his pen as he writes. He spends a good hour one day surreptitiously watching the tendons in Kurt's wrist flex as he turns the pages of his book. He wants to taste the skin covering them so badly that he has to go outside for a few minutes to cool off.
Kurt, as ever, seems to be untouched by such things, and Blaine doesn't know whether he should be offended or just thankful that Kurt doesn't notice his mooning after him.
It doesn't matter, really, because Kurt is still so damn distracting, and now he's idly running the end of his pen up and down the side of his throat as he reads. Blaine watches the tip of the cap glide up and down, up and down along his neck, just barely dipping beneath the pristine white collar at his throat. Kurt seems to have no idea he's doing it, and Blaine cannot for the life of him look away. It is mesmerizing. His heart starts to race, and he's glad there's this big wooden table between them and many other students around or else he'd already have dragged Kurt into his lap and traced that very same path with his lips and tongue.
Glad is not the right word, he realizes. He'd much rather have Kurt in his lap than have to behave himself. It's just good that he has more of a reason to keep himself under control than his own code of behavior. Being with Kurt sometimes - not always, maybe not most of the time because he loves being a good boyfriend of the charming variety, but definitely sometimes - makes him want to toss it out of the window, give in to every base desire that flows through him, and just crash through Kurt's defenses to pull him along on the ride.
But they are in the library right now, so he can't act on that urge. All he can do is try to keep the groan in his throat from escaping when Kurt raises his arms and stretches back in his chair, the movement making the crisp fabric of his shirt pull taut across his very nicely shaped chest. Then Kurt leans back even more.
Blaine rockets out of his seat.
"What's wrong?" Kurt asks softly, frozen mid-stretch.
Everything is wrong. Everything. From the people around them to the layers of clothes they are both wearing, everything is wrong. He wants so much, not just the physical but everything from Kurt, and this is so not the right place for it.
"I need something from the stacks," Blaine manages to say and rushes off without another word.
The library is a busy place at this time of the afternoon, with most extracurriculars over for the day, the weather gloomy, and the dorms still locked for another hour, so it takes Blaine a few minutes of wandering and polite hellos to friends to find a quiet, solitary spot among the shelves by a rain-drenched window.
He presses his forehead to the glass, breathes deeply, and tries to think of anything but Kurt.
It doesn't work, but at least wanting to be with Kurt again gives him a reason to start to regain his composure. If everyone could just leave him alone for a few minutes...
"Blaine?" Kurt asks in a concerned whisper from not very far behind him, and Blaine jumps and spins in surprise. Kurt backs away and holds up his hands like he's calming a crazy person, which Blaine kind of thinks he is right now. "Sorry. I was just worried about you. Are you okay?"
Blaine gives him a shaky nod and says, "Yeah. I just needed to move around a little."
“Too much studying, not enough furniture jumping?”
“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”
Kurt glances around and then gets a gleam in his eye Blaine doesn’t immediately know how to interpret. He prowls forward in a loose-limbed way Blaine really had no idea Kurt could manage, and he’s smirking by the time he stops in front of Blaine. “Or did something else distract you?” He runs the tip of his finger down Blaine’s tie.
It takes a second for Blaine to get it. “You were doing that on purpose,” he says, amazed and really, really turned on. Kurt doesn’t do this kind of thing, except he clearly does.
“Doing what?” Kurt asks, not trying to feign innocence in the slightest.
“You know exactly what.” Blaine grabs Kurt’s hand and pulls him in. “You were driving me crazy,” he murmurs in Kurt’s ear and gets a shiver in response.
"Was I?" Kurt sounds delighted.
"I am going to fail my Chem quiz tomorrow because of you," Blaine tells him.
Kurt's breath is hot and damp against his ear. "Then maybe I should let you get back to studying. I have more to do, too," he says with a voice full of mischief. He tugs at his hand a little, but Blaine doesn't let go.
Instead he kisses Kurt's hand from his palm down to the cuff of his sleeve open-mouthed, with just a hint of teeth. Kurt's hand curls inward, like he's trying to capture the sensation. "Oh, I have other things I need to do first," Blaine says. He slowly kisses each of Kurt's fingers in turn, first the backs and then the tips.
Kurt's eyes are wide, and he loses the sultry smile and replaces it with something more full of awe and desperation. "I don't think I thought this through," he says weakly, and Blaine can't help but laugh. It's either that or drag Kurt to the floor and hope the librarians are busy elsewhere.
"This is all I'm going to be able to think about," Blaine says.
“Me, too,” Kurt admits. He glances around at the quiet library around them. “Yeah, I really didn’t think this through.” He turns his hand in Blaine’s grip and laces their fingers together. “Sorry?”
“No.” Blaine tugs Kurt closer, flush against him, and slips an arm around his waist. “No, you are not apologizing.”
Kurt smiles, just a little. “Okay.” He looks around again, this time with more focus. “Then I’m going to do this, instead.” Without further warning, he leans in to kiss Blaine, and it’s anything but tentative. After a few seconds, he brings his hand up to cup Blaine’s cheek, the other pressing against Blaine’s lower back. The kiss isn’t merely a touch of their mouths; it’s a caress all along their bodies, from Kurt’s leg nudging between Blaine’s to their chests rising and falling against each other in time with their rough breathing. It’s the heat of Kurt’s thigh against Blaine’s and the way his fingers skim along Blaine’s temple at the edge of his hairline. It’s the slow heat burning low in Blaine’s belly, which forces a groan from him when Kurt’s kisses become harder and his teeth nip at Blaine’s lip.
“Shh,” Kurt says, soothing the spot with kisses that do nothing to cool Blaine off. “This is a library.” There’s a smile in his voice. If Blaine were forced to admit it, he’d say there was a hint of pride there, too. That Kurt is enjoying getting a reaction out of him is almost as thrilling as the kisses, themselves. He’s been letting Kurt set the pace between them, because the last thing Blaine wants to do is push, and he’s honestly thrilled with anything Kurt wants to give him, but, wow, this is the best pace ever.
“God, Kurt, you have no idea how much I want to - " Blaine breaks off, unsure of how much he should say, not just in the library but at all.
"What?" When Blaine doesn’t immediately answer, Kurt pulls back and looks at him, his fingers still teasing the edge of Blaine’s hair.
"I don't know. Everything." At the hint of apprehension that flashes across Kurt’s face he adds, "Not now, not all at once. But I do. God, I do. With you."
Kurt’s eyes spark with some strong emotion, and Blaine finds himself being kissed again. His head thunks against the bookcase when Kurt backs him against it, but Kurt doesn’t stop; he just holds Blaine’s face and pours himself into the kiss. Blaine clings back and rides the wave of emotion and arousal. He knows they have to stop in a minute and go back to their table and their homework, but not yet. Not yet.
~end part two~
Part three.
Title: "Than the Sum of its Parts" 2/5
Author: flaming muse
Fandom: Glee
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: overall R, this part PG-13
Word count: this part 5100, overall 30k+
Summary: The whole of Kurt and Blaine’s relationship is greater than the sum of its parts. Scenes of two boys in love.
Spoilers: the story starts during 2x16 (“Original Song”) and ends in the summer after 2x22 (“New York”)
Warnings: unrepentant fluff
Disclaimers: The characters belong to various corporate Powers That Be. I make absolutely no profit from playing with them.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback is lovely!
Author’s note: This story is complete and has five sections; one will be posted each day for five days.
Part one and complete author’s notes.
The problem with being teenagers, besides relentless hormones and the potential for acne, is that they just don’t have a good, reliable, private space to spend time together. Blaine’s dorm room has a roommate, Kurt’s house has his family, Dalton has teachers, librarians, and proctors, and pretty much everywhere else is, well, public. So while Kurt and Blaine spend as much time as they can steal in private, they are also forced out into the rest of the world quite a bit.
Mostly Blaine doesn’t mind. He likes going for coffee or to the mall, the latter primarily because of how Kurt’s eyes light up at finding the perfect new accessory, and he loves sitting across from Kurt in a restaurant and being on a date with his boyfriend. It’s still magical, even when the dim candle is electric and the breadsticks are stale.
Still, there are nights like this one when he feels like there is nothing more important in the world - not world peace, not the cure for cancer, not a new album by Katy Perry - than him being able to have time alone with Kurt with a locked door between them and everyone else.
Part of the problem is that they were supposed to have had a semi-private evening together with Burt and Carole out with friends and Finn playing video games in his room with Puck, but Carole threw out her back at work yesterday and is at home on the couch with painkillers and a doting husband. So instead of lying on that very couch with Kurt making out through some musical of Kurt’s choosing when Finn and Puck weren’t wandering through, as they’d unofficially planned, Blaine is out for a walk with him in the twilight. Normally he’d be happy enough about a walk, but it had been a hard week and he was really looking forward to the time alone.
He tries to shake it off and bask in Kurt’s presence. It mostly works, but he’s jumpy in his skin. He really wants to do something to burn off this extra energy. Since making out with Kurt isn’t an option, when he sees a deserted playground he tugs on Kurt’s hand and drags him inside through the squeaking gate. Perfect.
Kurt slows. “This is a playground.”
“What tipped you off?” Blaine asks as he walks backwards and continues to pull him along. “The slides? The swings? The bouncing dinosaur things?”
“I should have known you were actually five,” Kurt says, crossing his arms over his chest as Blaine leaves him behind to jump on the monkey bars. Blaine has to bend his legs not to drag on the ground as he travels hand over hand along them, but the burn in his arms and stretch in his chest feels good after being so tight with frustration from endless schoolwork and Warblers practices with no competition in sight.
“I’m six,” Blaine tells him, swinging off of the end. “And a half.”
“Of course you are.” With a roll of his eyes visible even in the dwindling light, Kurt hesitates for a moment and then lowers himself stiffly onto one of the swings.
“Aw, come on, Kurt. Playgrounds are fun.”
“If you are six.” Kurt, however, does push off a little with his feet and swings gently as he watches Blaine. Blaine smiles just seeing it.
“And a half.”
“And a half,” Kurt agrees. His voice is off, like he’s trying to be annoyed but is actually secretly amused. The secret is out when Blaine leaps up onto the zig-zagging balance beam and easily speeds across it; Kurt laughs. “Do you have to jump on everything? Is it a compulsion? Do you need therapy for it? You can tell me; I won't judge.”
Blaine spins on one foot at the end of the beam like he’s done a million times while performing and jumps off backwards. “My only compulsion is you,” he tells Kurt and then gets a better look at the huge wooden play structure on the other side of the playground. “Oh my god, it’s a ship.”
“What are you talking about?” he hears Kurt say, but Blaine doesn’t wait.
He jogs over and contemplates the best way in. There are stairs and a ramp on one side and a ladder on the other, but the rope netting looks the most fun. By the time Kurt strolls over, his hands in the pockets of his coat, Blaine has scrambled up the netting, bounced across the jiggling bridge, squirmed through a series of tunnels, and ended up at the bow of the ship. He spins the wooden wheel and then stands at the point of the prow, spreads his arms, and proclaims, “I’m the king of the world!”
Kurt squints up at him in the semi-darkness. “Really? Titanic? The movie is almost as old as we are.”
“It’s a classic.”
“No, An Affair to Rememberis a classic; Titanic is just a bloated excuse for special effects set around a stupid love story.”
Blaine can’t really disagree with that, so he just grins and says, “How many times have you seen it?”
Kurt scowls at him. Blaine waits. “Five,” Kurt finally admits.
“You should come up here,” Blaine says, laughing.
“Why?”
“Because I’m up here.” Blaine leans over the edge and smiles his most winning smile down at Kurt.
After a moment Kurt sighs, and Blaine knows he’s won. Kurt considers the complicated and dirty structure, looks down at his clothes, and then stretches up to grab the railing next to Blaine. He fits the toe of his boot in a gap in the wall, braces his long arms, and pulls himself up, swinging over the edge in a graceful, apparently effortless movement. He lands lightly on his feet beside Blaine and dusts off his hands.
“Hi,” Blaine says, his mouth suddenly dry. He forgets, sometimes, that Kurt was a cheerleader and is so flexible and strong. It’s probably good that he does or he’d never get any of his school work done.
Kurt brushes off his jacket. “Hi.”
“That was pretty cool.” Hot. It was pretty hot, but Blaine is trying to be good.
“Well, there was no way I was climbing through those tunnels in this outfit.” Kurt looks at them with a moue of distaste. “Or any outfit.”
Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and leads him up to the prow. “Come on. Do you want to be Kate or Leo?”
“Neither, thank you.”
“That’s no fun.” Blaine leans out with his arms spread again.
“And you are ridiculous.”
“I’m pretty sure you meant to say adorable.”
“Blaine.” Kurt slips his arms around Blaine’s waist and turns him around. The second they are facing each other Kurt kisses him slowly and thoroughly, and Blaine melts into it. He can’t help it. He doesn’t want to help it.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all afternoon,” Kurt whispers against Blaine’s mouth.
“Me, too,” Blaine admits and kisses him harder.
Blaine expects Kurt to pull away after a few seconds, but he doesn’t. He just keeps kissing and kissing, all hot breath and lips and tongue, and heat begins to spread through Blaine’s body, unfurling slowly and pushing out all other thoughts.
He pulls Kurt in closer, leaning back and resting their weight against the notch of the prow. The position makes Kurt seem even taller, and Blaine slides his hands up Kurt’s back to curl over his shoulders, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. Kurt doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He just tightens his own arm around Blaine’s waist, tips Blaine’s head back with a hand at his jaw, and kisses him more deeply.
It would be so, so easy to forget where they were. Blaine has gotten so used to kissing Kurt over the past weeks that he feels like he goes through withdrawal when they can’t touch. He’s going to have a long night in the dorm after he goes home and an even longer Sunday tomorrow without Kurt, and all he wants to do is soak in every bit of Kurt he can. Still, he knows he has to be good. They're outside, they have to go back to Kurt's busy house soon, and they are taking things slowly, anyway.
But when Kurt presses him back harder against the wooden rail and their hips come into contact, Blaine can't stop himself from moaning and grinding up against him. He's hard, and - fuck - he can feel Kurt is hard, too, and they usually are so careful to keep space between them, and it is ridiculously hot to feel Kurt right there, wanting him, and all he wants is to keep rubbing against him, and -
Blaine manages to break away from the kiss, though Kurt just starts sucking on his throat, which doesn't really help at all, and he finds some hidden reservoir of strength to jerk his hips back and say, "Sorry, sorry."
Kurt lifts his head, and Blaine can see that his pupils are blown wide. "What on earth are you sorry about?" he asks hoarsely.
"The... hip thing?"
Kurt blinks at him for a moment, reason returning to his face, and then he starts to grin.
"What?"
"And to think we assumed I'd be the awkward one when it came to be talking about this topic." He leans in and kisses Blaine softly just beneath his jaw on the side of his throat.
"Hey - "
"'Hip thing'?" Kurt continues. "Really?"
"I'm just trying to be a gentleman," Blaine says, stung.
"You are always a gentleman," Kurt says more softly, and he kisses Blaine on the mouth, swiftly and sweetly. "But you really don't have anything to be sorry for." He falters, then, and takes a half step back. "Unless it was too fast for you, and I should be apologizing. For the, uh, hip thing."
"No. No." Blaine tugs him back into a hug. "I..." Kurt is still looking nervous, and Blaine tells himself he can be honest. He should be. "I liked it."
Kurt smiles, and it goes straight to Blaine's chest, making him ache. He wants Kurt to smile at him all the time. "I did, too. Even if now I really don't want you to have to go home."
"Let me stay here a little longer," Blaine says, unable to conceive of having to let him go.
"Okay," Kurt says, simple as that, and kisses him again. When things get heated again soon after, Blaine does not even think of pulling away.
When they get back to the house, Blaine’s pants are way too tight, and he can barely look Mr. Hummel in the eye before he grabs his keys and heads for his car, but Kurt is still smiling, so Blaine can't find it in himself to care all that much. He kisses Kurt by the car, long and slow, and holds Kurt by the wrist, just for a minute, to feel the answering pounding of his boyfriend’s pulse before he leaves.
*
It isn’t that Blaine doesn’t know how to tie a tie, because obviously he does, but right now he just can’t make it work. This morning he tied it perfectly with a piece of toast in his mouth and half his attention on Facebook, but he clearly has lost the knack in the past two hours. It looks awful. Maybe it’s that his hands are damp from washing them. Maybe it’s that Jeff (in retaliation for Blaine’s organized straw wrapper bombardment at lunch earlier in the week) yanked his tie off in the parking lot of the retirement community the Warblers are performing at in five minutes - if their lead soloist can get into his uniform - and crumpled the material as he ran away laughing and flying it overhead like a banner. Either way Blaine cannot get the knot to sit right. It tightens at an odd angle. It rumples and twists. It mocks him in the mirror.
The door to the men’s room opens, but Blaine doesn’t look over, because getting himself ready for the performance is even more important than being polite. He just tugs at the knot in frustrated little movements that he hopes will create a miracle.
“What on earth are you doing?” Kurt asks. He sounds horrified, and his eyes are wide when Blaine meets them.
"A half-windsor?"
“Stop that right now,” Kurt says sharply and moves Blaine’s hands away. He frowns down at Blaine’s throat. “Blaine. What did this tie ever do to you?”
Blaine gestures to it. "It won't knot right."
With gentle hands, Kurt slips the tie loose from Blaine's collar, the friction of the motion warming Blaine’s neck, or maybe that’s just from Kurt being near. Kurt inspects the material. "No wonder it won't take a clean knot; you've abused it. Seriously, how long have you been wearing a Dalton uniform? This isn't pure silk, you know. You can't expect it to act like a more quality fabric."
“I don’t really care what it is,” Blaine says with a little frustration, because the last thing he needs is a lecture right now. “I just need it to tie properly.”
Kurt runs the tie through his hands, stroking and smoothing out the wrinkles. “Your clothes won’t work for you if you don’t treat them with respect,” he says absently, like his mind is more on Blaine’s abused tie than on Blaine himself. It’s a little ego-bruising, really.
“The good thing about blends, though,” Kurt continues, “is that they generally require fewer apologies to get them back into shape. There.” He drapes the now flat tie over his arm and reaches up to flip up Blaine’s collar. The back of his hand is soft and warm where it brushes against Blaine’s cheek as he works. Then he takes the tie and puts it around Blaine’s neck, deftly weaving it into a knot.
He’s close, close enough to smell his aftershave, close enough to feel his breath, close enough to kiss if Blaine gave into the urge.
“Isn’t that hard to do backwards?” Blaine blurts out, because otherwise he’s just standing here staring at Kurt’s face and lowered eyes and long eyelashes and cheekbones and is going to start reacting to his proximity the way he always does, which is wildly inconvenient three minutes before a show.
“I’ve been doing it for my dad for years,” Kurt replies, his attention still fixed on the tie in his hands. He pulls it snug at Blaine’s collar, flips the collar back down, and adjusts the folds of the knot. “I swear he’d wear a clip-on if it weren’t for me.”
Blaine is struck by the realization that he’s watched his parents in this same position over the years, his mother fussing with his father’s tie on their way out somewhere, and he’s seen it a million times with married couples on TV. The thought almost rocks Blaine back on his heels. Not that it’s the same, because obviously a big part of the whole appeal of Kurt to Blaine is that he is not female and even if he were he wouldn’t be Blaine’s wife, but there’s something about the act of one person caring for another in such a simple way that makes his stomach flip and his heart rise into his throat.
He has this. He really does. He has a boyfriend. He has someone who cares about him. Him. They’re a couple. He’s part of a couple.
“There. Perfect.” Kurt tucks the end of Blaine’s tie into his blazer and steps back. “Ready?”
Blaine nods. “Thank you.” His voice doesn’t sound quite like his own, but Kurt doesn’t seem to notice.
“I am always available for any sort of wardrobe emergency.”
“I’m counting on it.” Blaine realizes he is. He can, because Kurt’s his boyfriend. He smiles and guides Kurt toward the door with a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, I really want to sing.”
*
Spring in Ohio is mercurial at best. The morning can start out sunny and with the promise of blue skies and calm breezes, and by the evening it can be raw and damp enough to leave bare skin feeling clammy. It is why Kurt reads at least two different weather feeds every morning, he explains, so that he has all of the appropriate wardrobe selections he might need throughout the day.
Blaine mostly just looks outside and grabs something from his closet.
“You know, you can get the weather forecast on your phone,” Kurt tells him as Blaine attempts not to look cold in his short sleeves as he helps Kurt wash the dishes after another weekend dinner at the Hummel-Hudson house. “As well as your computer. And this amazing new device called the television.”
“Television? Gosh, is that anything like a radio?” Blaine asks, nudging Kurt with his elbow. He doesn’t let himself linger, even though Kurt and the sweater he is wearing are both warm.
“Yes, but it has pictures that move.”
Blaine rises up on his toes to put the last of the plates away. “Wow. What will they think of next? Horseless carriages? Shoes you don’t shine?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. A properly shined shoe will always be a thing of beauty.” Kurt wipes his hands and hangs the dishtowel on its hook. “Thank you for your help.”
“My pleasure,” Blaine says smiling at him.
Kurt glances out into the living room and then comes over to Blaine where he’s leaning against the counter. He leans in for a soft, quick kiss and then runs his hands down Blaine’s arms. Goosebumps rise along the path of Kurt’s touch, and they’re not just from the pleasure of it. “Oh, you are cold,” he says with a frown.
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s fifty degrees out, and you are wearing a t-shirt.”
Blaine shrugs, because he is pretty chilly, but it doesn’t seem manly to admit it.
Kurt rolls his eyes like he can read Blaine’s mind. “Come here.” He takes Blaine’s hand and leads him upstairs.
“Keep the door open,” Kurt’s dad calls behind them.
“We’ll only be a minute, Dad,” Kurt calls back.
Kurt drops Blaine’s hand as soon as they’re in his room, and he heads straight for his closet. “Hmm, let me see...”
Having had enough experience with Kurt and his wardrobe, Blaine sits on the bed and prepares to amuse himself for a little while. He’s about to pull out his phone when Kurt turns around with a deep grey cardigan in his hands. “Here.”
“What’s this?” When Blaine takes it, he finds that it is dense and soft; his fingers warm up immediately.
“A sweater. It’s from last year,” Kurt admits, “but it should fit you. And it goes with your shirt.”
Blaine looks back and forth between Kurt and the cardigan. He knows how Kurt treasures his clothes. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Between you and me, it’s machine washable.” Kurt whispers the last two words, and Blaine can’t help but grin at him. “But I’d trust you with a McQueen.”
Blaine is struck momentarily speechless by that statement, and Kurt takes the sweater from him and holds it out by its lapels.
“Put it on, Blaine,” Kurt says. There’s a frown forming in his eyes. “Or - “
Shaking his head, Blaine stands up and turns so that Kurt can help him put it on. It is so warm, and he feels even warmer when Kurt walks around him and carefully buttons it up partway. The brush of his fingers through the layers of material makes Blaine’s breath catch.
“There.” Kurt smooths down the sweater over Blaine’s chest and steps back. He appraises him for a moment. “I think it looks better on you than it does on me,” he says with some surprise.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Like I ever joke about fashion.”
Blaine laughs, just a little, and says, “Thank you for lending it to me.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Kurt tells him, his eyes gleaming as they rove up and down Blaine’s body. “In more ways than one. Huh.” He takes Blaine’s hand again, holding it tightly. “I am learning new things about myself tonight.”
“Oh?”
A flush rises on Kurt’s cheeks. “Apparently I like you wearing my clothes.”
“Are you criticizing my fashion sense?”
“No. I just like you being mine.”
Blaine’s heart skips a beat. “I like it, too,” he says, and Kurt gives him a brilliant smile and another soft kiss that turns into four or five before Kurt’s dad calls them back downstairs.
The sweater is warm, but the thing that really wards off Blaine’s chill is the way Kurt looks at him, thoughtful and possessive, for the rest of the night.
*
Homework is a necessary evil.
Obviously Blaine wants a good future, and that means a good education, which means going to a good college, which means getting good grades at Dalton, which means doing his homework. So he does it, and he honestly doesn't mind all that much, because he is pretty smart and likes learning. It can be a drag, but it isn't horrible.
Well, it wasn't horrible before he started dating Kurt. Back when they were just friends, they could share one of the big wooden tables in the library for the afternoon and sit in comfortable silence as they did their work. Occasionally they might exchange sympathetic glances or trade whispered complaints about their assignments. It was a nice way to feel less alone with their books. It made the time go faster.
Now when they sit together, though, Blaine can't concentrate at all. He's distracted by the warmth of Kurt's ankle tucked against his own beneath the table, by the golden afternoon light glinting off of Kurt's eyelashes, by the way Kurt's long fingers grip his pen as he writes. He spends a good hour one day surreptitiously watching the tendons in Kurt's wrist flex as he turns the pages of his book. He wants to taste the skin covering them so badly that he has to go outside for a few minutes to cool off.
Kurt, as ever, seems to be untouched by such things, and Blaine doesn't know whether he should be offended or just thankful that Kurt doesn't notice his mooning after him.
It doesn't matter, really, because Kurt is still so damn distracting, and now he's idly running the end of his pen up and down the side of his throat as he reads. Blaine watches the tip of the cap glide up and down, up and down along his neck, just barely dipping beneath the pristine white collar at his throat. Kurt seems to have no idea he's doing it, and Blaine cannot for the life of him look away. It is mesmerizing. His heart starts to race, and he's glad there's this big wooden table between them and many other students around or else he'd already have dragged Kurt into his lap and traced that very same path with his lips and tongue.
Glad is not the right word, he realizes. He'd much rather have Kurt in his lap than have to behave himself. It's just good that he has more of a reason to keep himself under control than his own code of behavior. Being with Kurt sometimes - not always, maybe not most of the time because he loves being a good boyfriend of the charming variety, but definitely sometimes - makes him want to toss it out of the window, give in to every base desire that flows through him, and just crash through Kurt's defenses to pull him along on the ride.
But they are in the library right now, so he can't act on that urge. All he can do is try to keep the groan in his throat from escaping when Kurt raises his arms and stretches back in his chair, the movement making the crisp fabric of his shirt pull taut across his very nicely shaped chest. Then Kurt leans back even more.
Blaine rockets out of his seat.
"What's wrong?" Kurt asks softly, frozen mid-stretch.
Everything is wrong. Everything. From the people around them to the layers of clothes they are both wearing, everything is wrong. He wants so much, not just the physical but everything from Kurt, and this is so not the right place for it.
"I need something from the stacks," Blaine manages to say and rushes off without another word.
The library is a busy place at this time of the afternoon, with most extracurriculars over for the day, the weather gloomy, and the dorms still locked for another hour, so it takes Blaine a few minutes of wandering and polite hellos to friends to find a quiet, solitary spot among the shelves by a rain-drenched window.
He presses his forehead to the glass, breathes deeply, and tries to think of anything but Kurt.
It doesn't work, but at least wanting to be with Kurt again gives him a reason to start to regain his composure. If everyone could just leave him alone for a few minutes...
"Blaine?" Kurt asks in a concerned whisper from not very far behind him, and Blaine jumps and spins in surprise. Kurt backs away and holds up his hands like he's calming a crazy person, which Blaine kind of thinks he is right now. "Sorry. I was just worried about you. Are you okay?"
Blaine gives him a shaky nod and says, "Yeah. I just needed to move around a little."
“Too much studying, not enough furniture jumping?”
“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”
Kurt glances around and then gets a gleam in his eye Blaine doesn’t immediately know how to interpret. He prowls forward in a loose-limbed way Blaine really had no idea Kurt could manage, and he’s smirking by the time he stops in front of Blaine. “Or did something else distract you?” He runs the tip of his finger down Blaine’s tie.
It takes a second for Blaine to get it. “You were doing that on purpose,” he says, amazed and really, really turned on. Kurt doesn’t do this kind of thing, except he clearly does.
“Doing what?” Kurt asks, not trying to feign innocence in the slightest.
“You know exactly what.” Blaine grabs Kurt’s hand and pulls him in. “You were driving me crazy,” he murmurs in Kurt’s ear and gets a shiver in response.
"Was I?" Kurt sounds delighted.
"I am going to fail my Chem quiz tomorrow because of you," Blaine tells him.
Kurt's breath is hot and damp against his ear. "Then maybe I should let you get back to studying. I have more to do, too," he says with a voice full of mischief. He tugs at his hand a little, but Blaine doesn't let go.
Instead he kisses Kurt's hand from his palm down to the cuff of his sleeve open-mouthed, with just a hint of teeth. Kurt's hand curls inward, like he's trying to capture the sensation. "Oh, I have other things I need to do first," Blaine says. He slowly kisses each of Kurt's fingers in turn, first the backs and then the tips.
Kurt's eyes are wide, and he loses the sultry smile and replaces it with something more full of awe and desperation. "I don't think I thought this through," he says weakly, and Blaine can't help but laugh. It's either that or drag Kurt to the floor and hope the librarians are busy elsewhere.
"This is all I'm going to be able to think about," Blaine says.
“Me, too,” Kurt admits. He glances around at the quiet library around them. “Yeah, I really didn’t think this through.” He turns his hand in Blaine’s grip and laces their fingers together. “Sorry?”
“No.” Blaine tugs Kurt closer, flush against him, and slips an arm around his waist. “No, you are not apologizing.”
Kurt smiles, just a little. “Okay.” He looks around again, this time with more focus. “Then I’m going to do this, instead.” Without further warning, he leans in to kiss Blaine, and it’s anything but tentative. After a few seconds, he brings his hand up to cup Blaine’s cheek, the other pressing against Blaine’s lower back. The kiss isn’t merely a touch of their mouths; it’s a caress all along their bodies, from Kurt’s leg nudging between Blaine’s to their chests rising and falling against each other in time with their rough breathing. It’s the heat of Kurt’s thigh against Blaine’s and the way his fingers skim along Blaine’s temple at the edge of his hairline. It’s the slow heat burning low in Blaine’s belly, which forces a groan from him when Kurt’s kisses become harder and his teeth nip at Blaine’s lip.
“Shh,” Kurt says, soothing the spot with kisses that do nothing to cool Blaine off. “This is a library.” There’s a smile in his voice. If Blaine were forced to admit it, he’d say there was a hint of pride there, too. That Kurt is enjoying getting a reaction out of him is almost as thrilling as the kisses, themselves. He’s been letting Kurt set the pace between them, because the last thing Blaine wants to do is push, and he’s honestly thrilled with anything Kurt wants to give him, but, wow, this is the best pace ever.
“God, Kurt, you have no idea how much I want to - " Blaine breaks off, unsure of how much he should say, not just in the library but at all.
"What?" When Blaine doesn’t immediately answer, Kurt pulls back and looks at him, his fingers still teasing the edge of Blaine’s hair.
"I don't know. Everything." At the hint of apprehension that flashes across Kurt’s face he adds, "Not now, not all at once. But I do. God, I do. With you."
Kurt’s eyes spark with some strong emotion, and Blaine finds himself being kissed again. His head thunks against the bookcase when Kurt backs him against it, but Kurt doesn’t stop; he just holds Blaine’s face and pours himself into the kiss. Blaine clings back and rides the wave of emotion and arousal. He knows they have to stop in a minute and go back to their table and their homework, but not yet. Not yet.
~end part two~
Part three.