Everyday (Part 6)

[whatiknew]

“That tickles,” Blaine mumbles when he wakes to warm breaths against the back of his neck as Kurt softly noses along his hairline.

“I can stop.”

“Mm, no,” Blaine shakes his head, pushing it back to seek out contact. “Wasn’t complaining.” He feels Kurt laugh quietly, the vibrations traveling from his chest to Blaine’s back as he returns to his ministrations. Their hands find each other again, linking over Blaine’s stomach, and Blaine drifts in and out of consciousness, too relaxed to fight sleep when he’s so surrounded by Kurt.

He finally commits to being awake when he feels Kurt’s lips brush the top of his spine, just the slightest hint of contact, back and forth across his skin.

“Mmm,” Blaine hums again, trying to pack his appreciation, encouragement, and interest into the sound all at once. He knows that staying quiet is the best course, letting Kurt work out his comfort level, but it goes against his nature not to tease him, especially when he’s so comfortable and warm and sleepy-happy and has even less of a filter than normal. So it’s with a lilt in his voice that he hopes Kurt picks up on that he asks, “I thought it was against the rules to kiss you on the bed.”

“It is,” Kurt says breezily, and Blaine knows he took the question how it was intended, wiggles back into Kurt’s hold a little. Kurt increases the pressure of his lips, actual kisses now, scattered at random across Blaine’s neck as he continues speaking. “But technically, I’m the one kissing you.”

“Technically,” Blaine echoes, breath hitching as Kurt opens his mouth over skin, his teeth scraping against the knob at the top of Blaine’s spine at the same time his arm tightens around his waist, pulling him even closer.

“This ok?” Kurt asks, an edge of nerves creeping into his voice. Blaine keeps wriggling in his hold, and they both hiss when his shirt rides up a little and Kurt’s hand makes contact with his stomach.

“Uh - god - uh-huh, totally, ok. Wonderful, even,” Blaine stutters, shifting his hips back on instinct. He can’t muffle the groan that rises when he feels Kurt hard against him, sighing in relief when Kurt responds in kind, a muttered Oh, god as he jerks his hips forward in response. Blaine rolls his hips again and they fall into a rhythm, unhurried and lazy and Blaine thinks vaguely that he could do this forever, just sink into this bed and this man and rock together and he won’t even miss things like work and people and food because everything he needs is right here.

A particularly loud moan pulls him from his trance and he pulls away as much as he can, struggling in Kurt’s hold to turn over. He needs to see him, hasn’t done enough looking at him yet, and definitely not enough looking at him like this. He’s missed watching Kurt lose control, fall apart under the efforts of his hands, his mouth, his body.

Kurt stops moving for a second, confused until he catches on, then loosens his grip, pulls at Blaine’s hip to help him turn. He smiles hesitantly when their eyes meet before bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.

“Hi,” he says through his hand. “Sorry. Morning breath.”

“Hi,” Blaine grins. “I don’t care.” He tries to pull at Kurt’s hand but Kurt fights him, and neither of them have much leverage laying on their sides, so Blaine resorts to placing loud, obnoxious kisses against the back of his hand. He leaves his mouth there until they’re both laughing against Kurt’s hand.

“Do you have to go to work today?” His voice is hopeful, and there’s a tinge of something in his eyes that Blaine remembers. That first night they’d gotten off together, when they couldn’t even spend the whole night together, Blaine remembers feeling like he was being physically torn to pieces by the separation. Kurt must be feeling something like that now, and there’s no way he could leave him even if he had to. He shakes his head, cranes his neck to press a kiss to Kurt’s forehead as he smiles.

“You’re breaking the rule,” Kurt’s muffled voice says. “No kissing me.” Blaine pulls back just enough so his pout is visible, making Kurt roll his eyes.

“Fine. But there was no rule about touching,” Blaine smirks. He reaches up, traces Kurt’s eyebrow, down the side of his face and neck, over his shoulder. Kurt flinches as he skates fingertips along ribs and he stops, raises a questioning eyebrow. “Ok?” Kurt nods, grabbing the exploring hand and moving his own so he can kiss Blaine’s palm, each of his fingertips, before pushing him back a little, just far enough so Kurt can duck his head to reach Blaine’s neck. He hasn’t done this yet, hasn’t moved away from basic kissing, and the first touch of his lips to Blaine’s throat makes Blaine whimper.

Kurt pushes him a little further, onto his back, and continues his exploration. He seems intrigued by the stubble, rubbing his lips over where it grows in thicker along Blaine’s jaw, stops to trace tendons with the tip of his tongue, sucks lightly over the hollow at the base of his throat. In minutes that feel like hours, Blaine is reduced to a squirming mess; he’s trying to be patient but he’s never been a strong man when faced with Kurt’s mouth. He finally loses part of his internal struggle, his hand coming up to tangle in Kurt’s hair. Kurt hums against his collarbone, pulling aside his collar to get at more of it.

“P-please kiss me. Kurt please,” Blaine whines, and Kurt looks almost startled when he looks up, like he can’t believe Blaine’s asking. He drags himself up with his elbow and for a long moment they just stare, eyes locked and refusing to move.

“I suppose,” he murmurs as he leans down. Blaine’s body melts into the mattress at the contact and he exhales harshly through his nose as Kurt runs his hand down his chest, slipping it just under the edge of his shirt again. Blaine returns the gesture, dragging the hand in Kurt’s hair down his spine, but when he secures his grip on Kurt’s waist, Kurt freezes above him. It only lasts a moment before Kurt’s reaching back, grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers, resting their joined hands near Blaine’s head. His lips start moving again and Blaine gets lost in it, doesn’t come back to himself until he realizes they’ve resumed the lazy rocking movement that has him practically panting into Kurt’s mouth.

“Can we...clothes. Can we lose some? I’m really hot,” Blaine gasps, feeling how his shirt is stuck to his back.

“You are,” Kurt agrees distractedly, but pulls back enough for Blaine to pull off his shirt, taking a second to sneak a glance at his chest, the muscles in his stomach that had twitched beneath his fingers. He tries to move back in but Blaine stops him, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt.

“Ok?” Blaine asks, tugging it up a little, and Kurt sits up, shaking his head, arms locking at his sides as he moves out of reach. This is the first time that Kurt hasn’t been ok with something he’s tried, and it scares Blaine, makes him sit up too, sitting as close as he can without actually touching him. Kurt has pulled his knees up to his chest and is resting his chin on them, looking somehow regretful and resentful at the same time, eyes blinking rapidly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He sighs heavily and Blaine reaches forward tentatively, relieved when Kurt doesn’t flinch away as he rests a hand on his shin. Kurt takes a deep breath and straightens his legs, taking Blaine’s hand and using it to pull him forward into another kiss, rougher this time. Blaine tries to pull back, needs to know what just happened, but Kurt’s hand is strong around the back of his neck, keeping him there. Blaine reaches out to get his attention, grabbing blindly, and jumps in surprise at how quickly Kurt stops moving when he grabs high on his hip.

“Kurt, what’s going on? Please,” Blaine asks, watching as Kurt attempts to fold in on himself again. Kurt mutters something Blaine can’t hear, and he leans forward again, trying to catch his eyes, heart falling when he hears the tail end of Kurt’s mumbling.

“...too soft and you’re not going to want me if you see and--” He cuts himself off with a deep breath, hitching just this side of a sob, and Blaine forgets about giving him space, instead awkwardly winds his arms around him from the side and rests his forehead on Kurt’s shoulder.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Blaine says quietly, but Kurt shakes his head in response.

“I - I want to. A lot, I just. I know I’m not,” he gestures vaguely at himself, then at Blaine. “Like you are. I’m - with my hips and my stomach and - I don’t want to disappoint -”

“Hey,” Blaine interrupts, tightening his hold. “I know what you look like in your head. I also know what you look like sitting in front of me. They’re both beautiful.” Kurt snorts a little and Blaine sets his jaw, determined. “No. None of that. Now, I know it’s weird for you to think about the time you don’t remember, in terms of us, but trust me when I say I have been intimately acquainted with your body for most of the past decade and you don’t have to worry about disappointing me. It’s impossible.”

“I just don’t know how you can--”

“Can I show you?” Kurt looks up quickly at the question, fear mixed with something else - curiosity, maybe, excitement - in his eyes, and Blaine hurries to continue. “If you get uncomfortable for any reason other than being self-conscious, you say stop and I’ll stop. But just - let me try? I need you to see.”

He sounds desperate but so earnest, and it loosens the knot of fear in Kurt’s stomach. Kurt turns to look properly at Blaine and nods slightly, smiles when Blaine smiles (it’s like a reflex, it’s so hard not to smile when Blaine does) and nudges at his shoulder, guiding him to lay down. Blaine swings his leg over Kurt’s waist until he’s straddling his hips, hands resting on his own thighs.

“Do you want me to put my shirt back on?” he asks, grinning when Kurt chances another quick glance, biting his lip and shaking his head. “It’s ok if you look. I like it when you look at me.” He grabs Kurt’s hand from the mattress then, pulls it up until it rests over his heart and covers it with his own. “The first few months we were dating, I was convinced I was going to have a heart attack, the way it started pounding anytime you touched me. I actually went to the doctor.” He reaches up with his free hand to mirror the position on Kurt’s chest, laughing a little when Kurt’s heart speeds up under his touch. “Glad it’s not just me, then.”

He pitches forward, catching himself on his elbows as he kisses Kurt lightly, then stays close enough that their lips brush when he speaks. “You were ok with me touching you last night, right?” Kurt nods. “Because my hands were kind of all over you. What...what changed?”

“I wasn’t thinking about it. And...you were distracted, so maybe you weren’t paying attention to what you were...feeling.”

“I’m always paying attention,” Blaine grins, pecking his lips again. “I am shockingly aware of your body at any given moment of the day.” Even at the close distance Blaine can see Kurt’s brow furrow, well, really, more like feel it, and he lifts up a bit more. “Say stop and I’ll stop,” he repeats, kissing him one last time just before he starts to shimmy down Kurt’s body.

Kurt is grateful when Blaine doesn’t immediately go for the hem of his shirt again, instead settles his weight on his hands on the mattress, kissing swiftly down Kurt’s neck to his collarbone, mimicking Kurt’s earlier actions and using his chin to push away the collar of his t-shirt, revealing more skin. He nips lightly across it, alternating between teeth and lips, and Kurt’s hand is already in his hair, holding him close. Everywhere Blaine’s mouth touches him explodes into tingles and he wants more. He feels Blaine’s hands come to rest on his chest, abstractly at first, then clear as his thumb brushes a nipple and heat jolts down his spine. He tries to say - something, he’s not really sure what - but all that comes out is a squeak, and Blaine laughs against his skin. Something in him tries to flare up, like he should be embarrassed, but he can feel Blaine hard against his hip and it dies easily. It’s not just him; Blaine feels everything too.

Blaine’s mouth follows his hands, kissing a wet trail over Kurt’s shirt as he slides further down the mattress. His hands settle at Kurt’s waist again, but Kurt doesn’t flinch this time, too caught up in the heat of his mouth and the vibrations coursing through him as Blaine hums happily on his journey. When he catches up to his hands again, he looks up, chin resting at Kurt’s waistband. Kurt nods shakily, unsure of which direction he’s planning to move but curious to find out, and Blaine smiles, uses his nose to push the edge of his shirt up.

He maps each inch of newly revealed skin with his lips, stops to swirl his tongue into Kurt’s bellybutton in a way that makes his thighs twitch in interest.

“I love that,” Blaine murmurs, still criss crossing over Kurt’s stomach. “You’re so thin and so muscled, but no matter how much you work out, there’s just that tiny layer of soft over your abs.” He rests his forehead there for a second, hands flexing, squeezing at Kurt’s sides. “I think it stays because it knows I like to rest my head there. And here,” he continues, tracing the dip between his pecs with his tongue before nuzzling his cheek in. “In case you haven’t noticed, I like laying on you.” Kurt giggles at that and Blaine surges up for a quick kiss before returning his focus, winking and ducking down to flick his tongue over a nipple. Kurt jolts again, shoulders lifting off the bed, and Blaine repeats his action on the other side. He grins brightly as he works his way back down, and while Kurt is certainly enjoying it, he doesn’t understand how Blaine can look so blissed out, just focusing on someone else like this.

Blaine stops again at his waistband, eyes asking a silent question that Kurt answers with a slight nod, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He trains his eyes on the ceiling as Blaine carefully pulls his pajamas down his legs, only looking down when he feels a tapping on his hip.

“Hey, watch me,” Blaine says, tossing the pants behind him. He carefully cradles Kurt’s injured leg, lifts his foot to kiss his instep, the inside of his ankle, the inside of his knee.

“I’m not sure if you ran back then,” he murmurs, repeating his actions on the uninjured leg. “But you started humoring me and coming with me sometimes in high school, and you’re so much faster than me but you still stay by my side. You push me to go faster, to be better.” Warmth blooms in Kurt’s skin with each press of lips, turning to something sharper as Blaine makes his way up his thigh, and Kurt thought it might end up here, but the reality is overwhelming.

“You don’t have to,” Blaine breathes, voice ragged, and Kurt’s been hard for so long that even Blaine’s breath ghosting across him is enough to make his dick twitch in his briefs. “That’s not what this was about. But,” Blaine swallows heavily. “I really want to - to blow you. Can I?”

Kurt throws his arm across his eyes and nods.

“I want to blow you” sounds so crass, but the first time he’d asked, years ago, he’d still been taking his cues from porn and had whispered “I want to taste you” into Kurt’s ear, which had led to Kurt laughing so hard that he’d inadvertently kneed Blaine in the balls and it took them a week to get past it and try again. He doesn’t want to repeat that.

“I need to hear you say it,” Blaine says, because that nod was like the sun coming out but he has to be sure, can’t stand the thought of pushing Kurt further than he’s comfortable.

“Y-yes,” Kurt stammers, still nodding. “You can. It’s ok.” Blaine reaches up to pull his arm from where it’s covering his eyes, kisses his fingers before settling it back at his side. “I want you to watch. Remember that I’m doing this because I desperately want to, because you are so beautiful,” he kisses just above the waistband as he inches it down. “And sexy.” Again. “That I can’t stand another minute without it.” He pulls them off before settling on his stomach, looking up at Kurt from between his legs. He worried that the ‘watch me’ demand had been too much, but Kurt’s wide, bright eyes tell him otherwise, and he smirks a little before ducking down and licking a broad stripe up the underside of Kurt’s cock.

Kurt chokes out a strangled OH at the contact, hips instinctively lifting, trying to follow, and Blaine laughs, pushes him back into the mattress and braces his forearm across his stomach, holding him there.

“Easy,” Blaine chuckles, licking again, all the way from base to tip. He swirls his tongue around the head once before sinking down a little, trying to let Kurt adjust. He closes his eyes as he bobs his head shallowly, relishing the sensation; it’s been far too long since he’s done this, felt the familiar weight on his tongue, the clean, salty taste filling his mouth. He’s always loved going down on Kurt, knowing he can make him feel everything so strongly. It’s only amplified here, everything new and unexpected.

Kurt’s whimpering above him, hips trying in vain to move, to chase the wet warmth of Blaine’s mouth as he pulls back to lap at the slit, and Blaine can’t fight back a grin as he looks up to see Kurt’s throat, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows convulsively. He takes pity on him and loosens his arm, lets him thrust up a little as he relaxes his jaw, reaching down with his free hand to gently roll his balls in his palm, but carefully not moving any further back.

Kurt gasps at the new depth and looks down to see Blaine watching him through his eyelashes, eyes shining and attentive. Blaine winks, can’t help it, really, and it’s worth it for the new, higher whine that Kurt lets out as he threads his fingers into Blaine’s hair. He doesn’t push or even hold him in place, though he could and Blaine wouldn’t mind, just anchors his hand there, thumb brushing absently over Blaine’s forehead in a way that’s always been comforting, and for a second everything is normal.

Except Old Kurt had much better stamina, and Kurt is already making the soft, plaintive noises that tell Blaine he’s getting close.

“I - I’m gonna - I can’t - Blaaaaaine,” Kurt moans, and Blaine relaxes his throat, takes him all the way down and swallows as Kurt starts to come, keeps swallowing around him as he twitches and swears and starts a dozen sentences he doesn’t come close to finishing. He pulls off with a final soft lick, sad to leave but unable to resist the hands gripping his shoulders and pulling him up.

Kurt pulls him into a kiss immediately, open and dirty from the start, running his tongue all along the inside of Blaine’s mouth.. Blaine realizes he’s tasting himself, noting the difference, and lets him, sucks briefly on Kurt’s tongue before chasing it back into his mouth and coaxing him to do the same. Kurt groans into it before he pulls away, panting against Blaine’s cheek.

“What can I--” he asks brokenly, flexing his thigh where Blaine is straddling it, still hard and rubbing unconsciously against him.

“You don’t - have to.”

“Please?” Kurt asks, and his eyes are wild, determined, so Blaine rolls off of him, props himself up on an elbow and takes Kurt’s hand. He slides it down his stomach, lets his fingers slide just under the waistband.

“Only if you’re sure,” he breathes, and when Kurt nods he yanks his pants down, kicks them off, gets them stuck on one foot but really doesn’t care right now.

Kurt’s hand is frozen, eyes transfixed on where Blaine’s dick is hard and heavy against his stomach, and he runs one finger down it, curious and feather light and making Blaine shudder. Blaine starts to beg, he knows, though he’s not sure what exactly he’s saying, but it must be something persuasive or desperate because then Kurt is curling his fist around him, stroking sure but light. It’s a little rough, but Blaine’s been sweating so it’s a little easier and Kurt catches the precome on his palm on a downward stroke and it’s perfect. He stops briefly, just to rub his thumb along the ridge just under the head, making Blaine clutch at his shoulder and start to twist his hips to meet Kurt’s strokes.

It’s all over too quickly; Blaine’s been wound up for too long and Kurt’s hand feels too good after weeks of nothing, weeks of not even thinking about wanting anything, and now he wants everything, has so much. So he doesn’t fight off his orgasm, just lets it wash over him, comes with a gasp and sinking his teeth into Kurt’s shoulder.

When he comes down, he’s slumped against Kurt, chin pressed into the spot between his shoulder and neck and nose smushed against his cheek. He angles his head a little, kisses the soft spot behind Kurt’s ear. Kisses it again just because.

“Wow,” Kurt says quietly. One of his arms is wrapped around Blaine’s waist, hand rubbing his lower back soothingly. He’s staring at his still sticky hand contemplatively, and Blaine feels him shrug a little before he brings it to his mouth, darts his tongue out and licks a tiny bit of come from his finger. Blaine groans at the sight, reaches down and pinches Kurt’s hip.

“Stop it,” he grumbles. “Will pass out. On top of you. No escape.”

“Do you always talk like a caveman after you come?” Kurt giggles, taking the tissues Blaine hands him and wiping off his hand.

“Dunno.” He yawns widely, then props his head up on one hand to look down at Kurt. “How are you? Other than ‘wow’?”

“I’m...” Kurt trails off, eyes scanning Blaine’s face for a long moment. “I’m good. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Blaine counters, dropping back down to the pillow and snuggling up to Kurt’s side, throwing an arm over his waist and a leg over his knees. “Seriously though, Kurt. You’re just...you’re beautiful, and gorgeous, and everything and I want you to see that as much as I do. In the meantime,” he yawns, shifting a bit closer. “I am happy to remind you.” Another yawn. “After a nap.”
-----
Blaine’s pretty sure he’s created a monster.

They had spent all day in bed Thursday, trading lazy kisses and touches and just generally basking in each other, stretched out and curled around each other like cats in the sunbeams that fell across the sheets. Kurt had broken his only other rule (Don’t kiss me in the shower) with a grin when he pulled Blaine against him under the shower spray, laughing that, at the very least, he could now burn that awful bathing suit. He had been silly, almost giddy with this new intimacy, hands skating over Blaine’s body, still a little hesitant but almost constantly touching him.

And it made sense; Blaine had been drunk on it as well, the permission to touch and the chance to be touched again. He’d only left Kurt’s sight long enough to find provisions, returning to bed with fruit and cheese and bread and chocolate and feeling ridiculous and decadent as they giggled and fed each other little bites of whatever was closest.

But it’s been a week and Kurt is still...fixated. To put it nicely. Obsessed is a little closer, completely and totally tunnel visioned is the most accurate.

And Blaine gets it. He really, really does; if his libido had its way, he would burn all of their clothes and set up grocery delivery and never leave the apartment again. He remembers when they were 17 and this was new and suddenly there was skin just, everywhere, all this bare skin free for groping and caressing and licking and biting and god, every chance they’d had (chances which were, mournfully, few and farther between than either of their likings) they were as naked as they could chance, a few stolen minutes rutting against Kurt’s bedroom door with ears trained on the staircase totally worth sitting through Friday dinner with red ears and Burt’s suspicious eyes boring into the tops of their heads. Kurt’s feeling that way now, and Blaine gets it.

Blaine, unfortunately, has a mind and, more importantly, a heart, that refuse to let him get as swept away. Because they’d been caught up in each other the first time around, sure, but they were still so stupid in love and lacking regular privacy and opportunity that it was interspersed with dates and cuddling and just sitting on the couch sharing each other’s space. He’s tried gently pushing him away, suggesting they actually watch whatever is playing on the television, but Kurt is persistent and always makes his way back in. Blaine kind of already misses Kurt’s face, which is difficult to see when it’s buried in his neck, Kurt sucking at that spot under his jaw. Even if he could see him at that angle, his eyes are always rolled back in his head.

And he’s been trying to get Kurt to this point, comfortable with himself and confident in Blaine’s interest, so now that he’s there, willing and eager, Blaine wouldn’t turn him down even if he wanted to (which he really, really doesn’t) but. It’s frustrating. He just really wants to take him on a date.

But it’s hard to ask when Kurt’s tongue is in his mouth.

Which it always is.

He’d hoped Kurt would...cool off, a little, at the beginning of the week. He’d started a GED class on Monday, insisting that even though he had the education, he’d like to actually learn some of it for himself. It had led to a long conversation about future schooling and money and dependency where Blaine had assured him, repeatedly, that they were ok. They owned the apartment (thanks to the entirety of the trust fund left by Grandpa Anderson) and their original student loans were paid off, and while Blaine definitely didn’t make enough money to entirely fund another college degree, Kurt could easily take out student loans and Burt had offered to help (We’ve got the money, Kurt. It’s amazing what not funding your wardrobe does for my savings account). Kurt had drawn into himself, a little, and Blaine could practically see his independent streak thrumming, telling him to withdraw and refuse. Then Blaine had pointed out that, in addition to their joint account, they both kept private savings accounts (Mad money, ya know, or if we’re trying to surprise each other with something) and, appeased, that was what Kurt had used to pay for his class.

But it isn’t distracting him, like Blaine had thought; almost the opposite, really. Kurt comes home frustrated again on Thursday, ranting about how much of a joke it is, how simple and Pandering to the lowest common denominator, really Blaine, there was a whole lesson on balancing equations. He rants and raves as he hobbles around, relying less and less on his crutches as he gets stronger. He could probably get by with just one for support, but Finn’s Tiny Tim comment has stuck with him so he uses both. By the time he reappears, backpack stowed and shoe off, Blaine has about 10 seconds before Kurt is crowding him into the wall or the sofa or, right now, the refrigerator, where Blaine is trying to retrieve ingredients for dinner. Or, was, before Kurt pressed up against his back and started mouthing at his neck.

“Kurt,” Blaine protests weakly, tipping his head to the side as Kurt noses down along the side of his neck, fingers brushing low on his stomach. They haven’t gone further than last week; Kurt is happy to roam, to take his time licking across Blaine’s abs, but when he gets any lower he freezes a little, and Blaine always pulls him back up before he can get embarrassed. Blaine doesn’t mind; Kurt’s more than willing with his hands, and Blaine is more than happy to just roll around with him, rut against each other or even just into the mattress while he takes Kurt apart with his own mouth.

So it’s not a surprise when Kurt’s fingers dip below the waistband of his jeans and Blaine finds himself trapped between the hand on his stomach and Kurt’s body, his dick hard against the swell of Blaine’s ass.

“Kurt, not right now,” Blaine says, reaching for the refrigerator door. Kurt follows the movement, staying close, pushes the door closed again when Blaine opens it as he palms over the front of Blaine’s boxers.

“Hmm, you’re sure not right now?” Kurt asks in a low voice, nipping at his earlobe, because of course Blaine is hard. It’s not his body that has any issue with this. Kurt grinds against him, just once, and Blaine inhales sharply, bites his lip before he tries again.

“I’m making dinner,” Blaine says sternly.

“You can have me for dinner,” Kurt purrs, and that, for some reason, is what makes Blaine snap. He’s going to have to be the one to fix this before it spirals out of control. He pulls away roughly, puts a few feet between them before spinning around to face Kurt.

“I said no, Kurt,” he sighs, rolling his shoulders. Kurt’s arms immediately cross over his body, stung with the rejection and eyes filling with fire that’s never, ever been directed at Blaine.

“Oh I’m sorry,” he says, voice dripping with the kind of sarcasm unmistakably meant to wound. “I was under the impression that you wanted me. Who was it that told me that? Oh, right. You.”

“Kurt--”

“But I guess the novelty has worn off. Sorry I’m bothering you. I’ll just--”

“KURT!” Kurt jumps at that and Blaine feels momentarily horrible; he wishes Old Kurt was here, just for a second, to realize that Blaine only yells when it’s something stupid, some simple frustration so easily fixed (it’s only when Blaine is quiet that something is really, truly wrong), but at least he got his attention, cut him off before he got too much steam behind him.

“Of course I want you,” he says helplessly, hands raking through his hair. “But it’s not a game! I want all of you. Not just...not just sex.” Blaine can see the fire go out of Kurt when he says it, his arms uncrossing, hands sliding into his pockets. Blaine takes advantage of the moment, takes a tentative step forward and holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers a little until Kurt huffs a laugh through his nose and takes it, lets Blaine pull him forward until their chests just barely brush, resting their joined hands over his heart.

“What do you mean?” Kurt asks quietly, free hand coming up to toy with one of Blaine’s buttons.

“I want to sit and talk, and go out and do things, and...god, I’ve been trying to get you to go on a date with me for a week, Kurt. But you’re all...hot, and distracting,” he sighs, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I just want to woo you.” Kurt snorts at that and Blaine scowls.

“Woo me? Really?” Kurt sounds like he’s trying very hard to judge Blaine, but he can’t keep the pleased note out of his voice, that tone that’s still a little awed every time Blaine does something blatantly affectionate. Blaine just nods, lips quirked up a bit, and Kurt sighs. “I thought you were...losing interest or...deciding for me or something.”

“Wait, what?”

“When you push me away or just try to hold my hand it feels like you think I’m a kid. And I’m not. I mean, I am, sort of, in my head sometimes, but I feel less like that now, with you. And...youwon’tevenletmeblowyou.” It all comes out in a rush, especially whatever he says at the end, too fast and too quiet and Blaine ducks his head until he can catch Kurt’s gaze.

“One more time?” he asks, pushing Kurt’s chin up with his nose and kissing the corner of his mouth in encouragement.

“You won’t even let me blow you,” Kurt mumbles, frowning. “Every time I work up my nerve you just - stop me. I’ve been trying to wear you down.” It’s Blaine’s turn to snort, this time, nuzzling his nose against Kurt’s and resting their foreheads together as he keeps chuckling quietly.

“I don’t think you’re a kid,” Blaine says quietly. “Believe me, I don’t. I thought you - weren’t ready, and I didn’t want you to push yourself too fast because you don’t have to. Not for me.”

“I don’t think it’s a game,” Kurt replies, just as quietly, pulling back so they can look at each other properly. “I’m sorry if you thought--”

“I’m sorry if you thought,” Blaine interrupts. He tilts his chin up to brush a quick, chaste kiss across Kurt’s lips, smiling as he pulls back. “Kurt, will you go on a date with me? Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Blaine, can I blow you?”

Blaine barks out a laugh before it turns gasping, dissolving into unending fits of giggles as he hunches over, hands braced on his thighs. It takes minutes for him to calm down, for his breathing to go back to normal, and he’s still hiccuping a little when he stands up.

“Yes,” he laughs, grinning at the amusement shining in Kurt’s eyes. “Not tonight, though? I just...I just want to hang out with you. Is that ok?”

“Blaine,” Kurt says, voice fond and warm and not hoarse with desire like it has been. “Of course it’s ok.” He grins. “As long as I can give you a manicure.” Blaine laughs again as he nods, and Kurt pulls open the refrigerator door. “What are we making for dinner?”

---
Blaine’s nervous when he gets home Friday night. Kurt’s class doesn’t meet on Fridays so he’s likely to be home, and Blaine actually took clothes with him to work so he could change, so he could properly pick Kurt up for their date. He’d texted Kurt to be ready at 6, to look nice but be comfortable, and nothing more, no matter how many “Come on, Blaine,” texts he’d gotten in return. He actually has to take a deep breath before he knocks, and it’s so silly but he wants everything to be perfect.

Kurt looks a little puzzled when he answers the door, but his eyes light up when he catches on, and he leans against the doorframe as he gives a shy “Hello” in greeting.

“You look great,” Blaine says, because he does - he always does. He holds out the rose he’s been gripping a little too hard, grateful he hasn’t broken the stem, and Kurt beams, holds it to his nose and inhales deeply.

“Thanks. You too,” he nods, gesturing to Blaine’s outfit, then looking curiously at what he’s holding. “Are we going...”

“On a picnic,” Blaine grins, swinging the basket a little. “If that’s ok? The park’s nearby - you won’t even need your crutches.” Kurt grins back and Blaine ducks around him with a command to stay there, reappearing with a blanket and draping it over the basket. He offers his other arm and Kurt takes it as they lock the door behind them.

“The park,” Kurt snorts as they enter one of the quieter areas of Central Park. “Cute, Blaine.”

“What? Is it not a park?” Blaine asks playfully. Kurt nudges him in the side as they make their way toward a tree. Blaine guides Kurt toward the tree, pushing at him and staring him down until he’s leaning against and resting his weight on his good leg, and busies himself with unfurling the blanket and laying out the food before he helps Kurt sit down.

“I know it’s not a fancy restaurant and the Empire State Building,” Blaine shrugs. “But--”

“It’s perfect,” Kurt smiles, leaning over to kiss Blaine’s shoulder. They sit close, some part of them always touching, but Kurt can’t stop glancing around the park, waiting for judgmental looks that never come. Blaine seems to have cleared out a good part of what he says is their favorite deli, and it’s fun to eat paper-wrapped sandwiches and pick pasta salad out of plastic containers. They drink champagne out of plastic flutes (there’s sparkling juice too, just in case, but Kurt is curious, and champagne, it turns out, is delicious) and Kurt feels light and happy in a way he really hasn’t yet.

He lays back, rests his head on Blaine’s lap as he looks up at him, the setting sun forming a soft halo around his curls. He watches Blaine’s lips move as he sings along to the music coming from the ipod dock he brought along. He lets Blaine feed him small bites of strawberries and understands how he fell in love with him the first time around, how easy it would be to just let this man love him, to love him back. He lets himself wish, just for a moment, really desperately wish that he could remember, because Blaine seems so happy and content around him that he knows he must have really loved him before, and he’s scared that he won’t do it as well this time around, and Blaine deserves the most, the best, everything.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Blaine smiles, dipping his head to kiss Kurt’s forehead. Kurt tilts his chin back, pursing his lips and Blaine laughs, drops a kiss there too.

“Nah,” Kurt shrugs. “Strawberry?” Blaine retrieves one, offers it, and Kurt kisses the tip of his thumb in thanks. He might not be able to be everything for Blaine, not like he was before, but he can try.

It’s late when they get back, both too comfortable to think about moving until the mosquitoes come out with the darkness, and Kurt’s still pleasantly fuzzy, giggling into Blaine’s shoulder as he steers them home.

“So I went on a date with you,” Kurt starts as they exit the elevator. Blaine unlocks the door and gestures for Kurt to enter, laughing when Kurt misjudges and knocks his hip into the door frame, frowning as he rubs at the spot. “Do I get to blow you now?”

“Maybe not when you’ve been drinking?” Blaine asks hesitantly. “It’s just - I know I said that I wouldn’t stop you, but - I want you to --”

“It’s ok,” Kurt smiles. “You have a point. Considering I can’t walk through a door...I’m going to need my motor skills in tip top shape for that. Do I at least get a goodnight kiss?”

“But of course,” Blaine grins. His hands settle on Kurt’s waist immediately as he leans forward, kissing him softly but insistently. Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and holds him there, just enjoying how the pressure of Blaine’s body against his makes the fuzziness sharper, makes him shiver. Blaine pulls back with a series of pecks to random spots on Kurt’s mouth and his smile is darker now.

“There are other things you don’t need nearly as many motor skills for,” he says, an eyebrow quirked in question.

“Oh really?” Kurt asks, cocking his eyebrow in response. They’re still for a moment before Blaine ducks quickly and Kurt’s feet leave the ground. He yelps as Blaine sweeps his legs out from under him, laughing at he jogs toward the bedroom.

He sets Kurt gently on the bed, letting him scoot up before he crawls on after, and stops on his hands and knees, hovering over him and smiling.

“I had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too.”

“Will you go out with me again?”

“Well,” Kurt drawls, looking up at him. “I suppose-mmph.” The rest of his words are cut off by Blaine’s lips against his. When he pulls back his eyes are bright and yes, Kurt can definitely try.

Chapter 7