A/N Here is the final part. I know it's longer than the rest of the story combined, but I spent hours trying to work out where to cut it, and I didn't like any of the options. So... I'm sorry about that. I can only suggest that you pace yourself. I hope you enjoy).

Oh, and there's a little bit of angst. I won't apologize, as I think it's necessary, but I'm warning you nonetheless.

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Also: Several reviews have mentioned that listening to the song mentioned later (when it comes up) has improved the reading experience. I'm all for that, so I recommend it. )

Will Schuester was not having a good day. He'd spilled coffee on his tie that morning, had a meeting with a parent before school who had objected to his teaching methods on the grounds that "[her] baby didn't need any stupid Spanish class anyway" and, to top it off, had received a lecture from Sue at lunch about the potential hazards that excessive use of hair products posed to the reproductive system (and what a blessing that would probably be for humanity in his case). So it would be fair to say that he was looking forward to the Glee meeting, but it would also be fair to say that he was looking forward to going home and taking a nap to get rid of his rapidly intensifying migraine.

He'd been considering canceling the meeting anyway, as he was not at his most authoritative, which is why he had been kind of relieved when the two Dalton boys had interrupted Santana and Rachel's argument. It had been a very long day.

After they had locked the door and started talking to Kurt, Will had realized that there was something bigger than spying going on here. Aside from diffusing Rachel Berry with apparent ease (an impressive skill), that boy (Kurt had called him Wes) had given some pretty intelligent suggestions when it came to song choices. Will found himself pulling out a pen and scribbling a new set list down quickly. It wasn't until the third (far less put together) Dalton boy entered the room that Will began to wonder if he was going to have to intervene.

Bloodshed at a Glee meeting would not be something that Sue would let go of anytime soon.

Blaine stood there looking at his roommate and best friend. To be honest, he had looked first to see the expression on one other specific face in the room, but seeing it smiling (and with no trace of alarm), figured that his friends must still be in the early stages of their plan to ruin his life. "Wes. David. Hallway. Now. Please?" It took an unprecedented amount of control to not drag them out there bodily, but Blaine didn't want to create a bad impression. These were Kurt's friends. And he was Kurt's friend. And killing his friends would have to wait until they were out of earshot. Not to mention there was a teacher there, and Blaine had never been one to disrespect authority... even if the authority appeared not to be paying attention. Wes and David seemed to realize that their time was up, and trudged into the hallway looking dejected. Blaine turned to the room before he followed them and smiled charmingly at the group. He waved at Mercedes, who waved back, clearly amused. "Well... hello, New Directions! I'm Blaine, a friend of Kurt's from Dalton. You all seem like lovely people, and I want very much to meet you, but I have something quite important to take care of first. I know this is not the best first impression I could have made, but – ah – I'll be back in a moment." He looked directly at Kurt, whose arms were across his stomach as though he was protecting something. Himself, probably, Blaine thought... From the insanity that is Wes and David. He still looked confused, and Blaine couldn't blame him. He smiled briefly at Kurt and held up a finger to show he'd be right back, and went out into the hallway. He really needed to talk to his "best friends" for a moment.

He had almost hoped that they'd run. That was a ridiculous thought, of course... even if they had gone, he lived with one of them, and the other was always one door down. But it was still a little startling to see the two of them slouching against the McKinley lockers. At least, it was until Wes looked up and tried to engage in smalltalk.

"So, Blaine, did you take the freeway to get here? Because you got here quite quickly, and I was wondering if -"


"Yes, Blaine?"

"Shut up."

"Ok, then."

There was silence for a minute, and then David's mouth seemed to be forced open by his brain.

"Blaine, I know you're mad at us, but we're your best friends - and we know how you feel - and we want you to be happy - so we decided that the only way was to -"

"Invade my privacy?"

"No! Well, yes, but... in the good way!"

Blaine laughed, but there was very little humor in it.

Wes decided to try again. "Listen, man, the way we went about this may not have been completely cool, but you have to know that we only did this because we thought it would make you happy."

Blaine saw the sincerity gleaming in his friend's eyes and reflected that psychopaths rarely recognized that what they were doing was wrong either.

Wes continued, his confidence growing. " So I know that you really can't see this right now, but we were trying to be better friends to you... it wasn't like we were trying to upset you! We didn't read it, or anything!"

David nodded in agreement "Yeah, Operation Sugarplum was entirely selfless!"

Blaine couldn't help himself. He snorted. "Sugarplum?" He shook his head as he remembered what the plan had been. "Never mind. Just give me the notebook and go back to school – we'll talk about this when I get back. I have to go fix this."

He held out his hand expectantly, not liking the looks that crossed the two boys' faces in the least.

"Guys. Give me the notebook. This is over."

"We... um... don't have it."

Blaine had been relatively proud of how calm he'd stayed so far, but it was taking every ounce of his self-control (and he had a fair amount of it) not to snap."I see. And where is it?"

"Kurt has it."

Aaand... snap.

"WHAT?" Blaine shouted for the first time, and recognized on some deep level that it wasn't as fun as he'd thought it would be. That didn't mean he was done with it just yet, though. "YOU ACTUALLY LET HIM SEE– YOU - YOU - GAVE IT TO HIM?"

"Yeah. Kurt has it. In there." Wes pointed to the room, hoping to distract his nearly apoplectic friend enough to stop him yelling by reminding him that he could be heard. It worked. Blaine's voice returned to a normal decibel level, although it was still angry. Very, very angry.

"Do you mean to say," Blaine spluttered, "that you actually let him – you stole and – you actually gave him my - diary?"

"It isn't a diary," David pointed out reasonably, parroting the sentiment Blaine had expressed to him hundreds of times, "it's your song writing notebook."

"Same FUCKING difference." Blaine spat the words, and for the first time Wes noticed that he avoided eye contact with them, like he couldn't stand to even look in their direction. He then took a breath, closed his eyes, and his voice sounded exhausted when he finally spoke again. "Go back to school. Both of you."

He didn't even look angry anymore. He just looked totally disappointed. Wes could remember his mother looking at him like that after he'd finger painted the entire white carpeted living room as a child (because she'd refused to let him move to Disneyland). He watched his best friend massage his temples for a moment, dismiss the two of them with half a gesture, then open the door to the choir room and step back in. In that moment Wes kind of wished that Blaine had just punched him instead.

Kurt didn't know why he'd shoved the notebook under his jacket when Blaine walked in. It was a stupid thing to do. It was Blaine's notebook, after all, and he had no reason to think that he would care that Kurt had looked at it. Except... he would care. Kurt knew him well enough by to know that as open and proud as his friend was, there were things he didn't want to talk about. Which made Kurt the lowest form of life on the planet. Wes had told him the notebook meant that Blaine liked him. And what had he said?

'Sure, Wes. Blaine's one of my best friends, and trusts me totally. Let me just violate that trust completely by reading all of his private thoughts, so that he'll never trust me again. But hey, maybe I'll see my name with a heart around it, so it'll all be worth it.'

Kurt was genuinely ashamed of himself. He decided this while Blaine was out in the hallway talking to Wes and David. He also decided that there was definitely a secondary reason he'd hidden the notebook, and that reason made him not only the worst person and friend in human existence, but also probably a monster. Luckily for everyone, Blaine would probably come tell him that he didn't want to be friends anymore very soon, and then he'd be left alone.

And he'd deserve it.

Because he was a monster.

When he'd read those words, the ones scribbled when Blaine had been alone, scared, and in the darkest place imaginable, Kurt had felt... relieved. He knew it was terrible, but seeing someone else in that place had been like glimpsing a way out.

Obviously he'd already known that Blaine had been in similar circumstances to him. They'd talked about it a great deal. He'd also guessed that Blaine had nearly cracked under the pressure – several cryptic comments and worried reassurances had led Kurt to put two and two together. But as well as he'd known all that, he realized while reading Blaine's agonized thoughts that on some level he'd never really believed that this handsome, well-adjusted, wonderful boy before him could have ever really been where Kurt was. Not as deep. Not really. Blaine was just too dazzling to have ever been in danger.

Reading that notebook had made him realize what an idiotic thought that had been. Because he could finally see Blaine there, sitting on the floor of his high school hallway, having been hissed at and pushed down and made to feel like he didn't matter. He could see him crying onto the page as he tried to write out his feelings, frustrated when recording them didn't make them hurt any less. But most of all he could see glimpses of that scared boy in the strong person he knew.

And that was the other reason he was clutching the notebook to his chest. He loved that scared little boy. That boy was him, and Blaine, and thousands of other kids that had cried themselves to sleep wondering if maybe it would be better to be just like everyone else. He needed that close to him. He needed the pain close to his pain. It made him... happy.

He really was a monster.

Blaine approached Kurt as one would a frightened animal. No one was quite sure why, least of all Kurt himself, who was torn further apart by guilt at the gentle sound of Blaine's voice. "Kurt," he asked softly, "can I talk to you outside for a moment?"

Kurt nodded immediately and jumped up, which was an obvious surprise. He figured he'd better grab as much Blaine-time as possible before he was found out. He turned to Mr. Shue. "Is it okay if I -"

The teacher was scribbling excitedly on his notepad and waved towards the door absently.

"Sure, go home, Kurt. Have fun."

"O...k." Kurt took this in and waved to the rest of the club. "I guess I'm going. See you all later."

Everyone said their goodbyes to Kurt in their own way (Mercedes: You had better fill me in later, boy!... Santana: Get it, Kurt!... Finn: Dude, are you sure you're okay?... Brittany: I'll miss you baby Kurtie! Bring me back a postcard!) and Blaine ushered him out the door with a smile and a wave to the group.

And then they found themselves alone in the hallway. With both far too much and nothing at all to say.

There was silence in the choir room for a long moment.

"Well," Santana commented dryly, "it looks like they have some stuff to work out. And by 'work out' I mean -"

"We know what you mean, Santana." Quinn cut her off quickly. "You don't need to clarify."

"Maybe not, but they certainly need to go get their -"

Finn interjected, seemingly having come to some sort of conclusion.

"Does anyone else think," he asked ,with a confused but hopeful smile, "that the fact that some of the Warblers are clearly insane might work in our favor?"

Out in the hallway, Blaine was kind of feeling like he needed to start speaking, otherwise the silence would bury them both alive.

"Listen, Kurt, before anything else I need us both to acknowledge the fundamental truth that Wes and David are clearly insane." That wasn't a lie, at least.

One corner of Kurt's mouth quirked up into a smile. Blaine would take it. "They mean well. I think."

"Yeah, well some psychopaths do. About the notebook -"

Kurt seemed to remember something then, and his smile fell. Blaine cursed Wes and David to the darkest depths of hell for letting Kurt see the innermost workings of his mind... and how much of them revolved around Kurt. He took the notebook that the worried boy pulled out of his jacket and shifted it between his hands for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. No. He needed something in his hands. He pulled it back out again and ran his finger along the edges, like he had done hundreds of times before. "...Thanks."

"You're welcome."

And that, Blaine thought, was that. Kurt didn't want to talk about what he'd seen any more than Blaine wanted to talk about what he'd written. Clearly he had been right all along – well, the smaller, more rational part of his brain had been right, anyway. He had been a mentor to Kurt, who had needed someone to talk to. And like the idiot that he was, Blaine had gone and fucked it up. Wes and David had helped significantly, obviously, but he wasn't willing to give them too much credit. They had been trying to act on feelings Blaine had been attempting to hide, and it would have only been a matter of time before he said or did something that would have let Kurt know how he felt. He'd have let slip that the intense blue of his eyes was the precise shade Blaine dreamed about every night. Or that he'd gone through his entire contact list changing everyone to boring, flat ringtones because he'd wanted Kurt's to be special. Or that he'd spent more than a few nights on youtube watching videos of New Directions performances, identifying Kurt's voice singing the harmonies and being absurdly and undeservedly proud that such an amazing boy looked up to him.

...And those were just the family friendly pathetic stories. Blaine was a teenage boy. And while he was certain that what he felt for hisfriend was more than simple lust, there was a healthy dose of good old fashioned want in there... moments when he had to restrain himself from reaching forward and touching...There were times he wanted Kurt near him so badly he felt like he could barely breathe. It was almost like -

No. Stop it. Blaine nearly slapped himself across the face before he remembered that that might be perceived as a little bit odd. By Kurt. Whose lips he had been staring at while he was thinking. Oh god.

"Well, I should probably go slowly torture and kill my best friends now." He gestured towards the door and stepped away to begin his escape. If he went now he might make it to his car before he screamed at the top of his lungs. And that would be preferable.

"Wait... we aren't going to talk?" There was such hurt in Kurt's voice that Blaine's selfish impulses (which were fighting with all they had to make him run, run and never come back) were quashed instantly by his protective instincts. The words had barely left Kurt's mouth before Blaine had whirled around in concern. He didn't give in to habit and immediately go over to comfort him, though, and that took an enormous amount of self control. Which, Blaine quipped internally, seemed to be his middle name... NOT. He chose his next words very carefully. He was not taking this as a chance to fix things, because he didn't deserve it. He was just going to help Kurt. That was all.

"Was there... something specific that you wanted to discuss?"

Kurt looked at him like he had grown a second head. A head which had then begun to juggle knives and whistle show tunes.

"Well, I thought we might briefly discuss some things..." he started with confidence but his voice trailed off in obvious discomfort. Blaine internally cursed Wes and David again for good measure. "... things like the notebook, and some of the stuff I read..."

"Ah." He was sure that wasn't the correct response. He needed a guidebook for this conversation. Hell, he needed a map. "Ok."

Where did that come from? He should leave. This was irreparable, and he'd only do more damage. But who was he kidding? He'd stay here forever if Kurt asked him to, even though he knew they had no chance at... anything anymore.

God, he missed his guitar. He had a few quite songs he'd abandoned a long while ago that he bet he was just depressed enough to be able to finish. And Wes would have to listen all night. Good. He deserved it.

"D'you want to go outside?"

Blaine jumped slightly, and then nodded. He followed Kurt out the doors and into the quad, where they sat down on a bench. He didn't know how to start apologizing. But he was a fixer at heart, and he'd opened his mouth to try when Kurt turned to him with tears in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me how bad it got?"

Confused... Blaine was now confused. What was bad?

"How bad what got?"

"The bullying! When you were at school... I mean, you told me it happened, and that it was a big deal, but that" – he gestured to the notebook with vehemence as the tears began to escape down his cheeks- "goes so far beyond what you told me, and now you're going to hate me, and -"

"Woah, wait..." Blaine cut him off, fairly certain that he had become part of an entirely new conversation at some point, he just had no idea when. He instinctively put his arm around the crying boy's shoulders, and traced soothing circles on his arm. He caught himself doing this a minute later, and sternly forced his other hand to stay on the notebook balancing on his lap.

After a moment he turned his attention back to Kurt. "What are you talking about? You're mad at me for keeping stuff from you? Or do you think I'm mad at you for reading this?"

Kurt's sobs were breaking his heart. "H-y-yes." A pause. "H-b-b-oth."

"Alright, well you're completely wrong about at least half of that. And why are you crying?"

"For – him" - he pointed at the book - "I- mean – you – and- me – and how-h -are- h – you – h - still so – h- calm about – h - this?"

"I'm not." Blaine replied simply,"I just have absolutely no idea what this is. But you can explain to me, once you calm down. And while you do that I'll try to explain why you're so entirely wrong about me being mad at you." Kurt nodded, and Blaine took that as a sign to begin. He released Kurt's shoulder (and must have imagined that Kurt looked at it with slight sadness afterwards, he told himself) and picked up the notebook, flipping to the page he wanted. It was the Rent quote – the one that Kurt had identified as the beginning of the darkness. He ran a hand over the page before he began speaking, tracing some of the letters, and when his voice came Kurt though it sounded very far away.

"It was worse than I told you. I mean, you know most of it, and I never lied to you, but... yeah. It got bad."

"How bad?" It was a whisper. Blaine turned to meet his eyes, then pointed to the words below the quote on the following page. 'Let me out?', a young Blaine asked.

"Bad enough for me to consider what my options were. All of my options. Over and over. Every night, for weeks and months."

"Did you ever..."

"Try to kill myself?" Blaine paused, and then looked back at Kurt, his face unreadable. "No. I decided that I was worth it. But I had to decide that every single day. And it was close, a couple of times..." He flipped the pages a few more times, speeding through the months of hell, and then he came to Dalton. His first day. "And then I got out the right way. Found a place to be, found people to be with..."

"And he – you – it was okay?"

"Eventually, yeah. I think so."

Kurt pointed at the pages "What about him?"


"You – the scared little boy. When I read about him, I felt like..."

"Like what?" Tell me, Kurt.

"It's horrible. You'll hate me."

"I very much doubt that." Hate you? Me? Ha.

"I'm horrible."

"No, you aren't." You have no idea.

"You don't know."

"So tell me." Please.

"I felt...happy."


"What do you mean?"

"I told you."

"Kurt. Happy about what?"

"That he went through it too. What kind of person does that make me?"

"Kurt, 'he' is me."

"I know. That's why it's terrible."

"It isn't."

"Stop it."

"You're glad that that scared boy eventually became someone stronger. That makes you the kind of person with hope. And maybe I should have told you about it in more detail already, and tried to make you understand. Maybe it was a lie of omission, but... I didn't want you to think less of me. And that's not a time I like to dwell on very much."

"Yeah, but..." Blaine could see Kurt fighting to retain his skewed view of the situation. Finally he seemed to acknowledge the truth of what he was being told. "...you could have told me."

Blaine nodded. He knew that.

"So... you aren't mad at me?"

Blaine snorted. Then he realized that might not give the impression that he was giving the matter proper consideration... and so he considered. Wes and David had invaded his privacy. Kurt had, in a way, too. He'd kept reading. But while he was angry at Wes and David wanting to interfere in his life, when it came to Kurt he felt kind of... flattered. He knew that was a double standard, but he was too emotionally exhausted to particularly care.

"Mad? For my friends making you read something that freaked you out? Not really. Honestly... I'd probably have shown you most of that stuff myself... someday. When everything was ok. It's just... buried kind of deep. But the other stuff, well... I'm just sorry that they ended this by putting everything out there."

It was Kurt's turn to be confused. "Ended? What everything?"

He didn't want to talk about it. Blaine should probably back off. But for some absurd reason the word COURAGE was circling around in his brain and he finally figured that if there was ever a time when he had nothing to lose then this was it.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you saw the stuff I wrote...the later stuff."

There was silence and Blaine started to panic. Until:

"Why didn't you tell me you'd written me a song?"

Ah. So he'd seen that. And he was probably freaking out. Fuck.

"A song?"


"Which song?" Nonchalance was not his thing.

So Kurt started to hum the song, right there in the quad. Of course he knew it. Blaine had only played it for him every chance he could, trying to work up the nerve to tell him who had inspired it... tell him that he had sat at his desk all night (with Wes throwing nerf balls at him in irritation) because he had suddenly known exactly what the song needed to sound like. He'd had the piano part almost completely written in his head before he touched the keys the next morning.

That piano part was now being hummed to him, by Kurt, note perfectly. He had to stop this, or he'd have to kiss him. It was too much. He looked away.

"You know, songs come from a variety of different places. To say that one person is the inspiration for a song is like saying that a cake has only one ingredient, or -" Lie, lie, lie.

He stopped humming. Blaine missed the sound terribly. "Oh."

That one syllable contained so much mortification and sadness that Blaine allowed himself to look at Kurt's face. He had just lied. Majorly, not a little one of omission. So he knew why he felt like crap. But clearly Kurt was not relieved that he (said that he) hadn't been writing songs about him, like some...well... lovesick teenager. Fuck, this wasconfusing.

Kurt seemed embarrassed. Blaine could relate, even if he had no idea why. "What's up?"


"We are NOT doing that again."

"It's nothing" Kurt snapped, and Blaine was surprised. "I just... kind of liked the idea. That's all."

"Of the song?"

"Of it being...mine. Written for me."

Blaine took a deep breath. "It was."

"But you just said -"

"I lied."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"Then or now?"

Blaine grinned despite himself. "Don't push it, Hummel."

Kurt grinned back, and Blaine's poor tired heart sighed in relief. He kept smiling. Until:

"Sing it to me."


"My song. Sing it to me. It's mine, right?"

"Well, yeah." He looked around nervously for an excuse. "But I don't have my guitar, or a piano or -"

"Blaine, you sing the lead vocals in an all boys A Cappella show choir."

"Ah. Right..."


Blaine sighed out loud this time, and Kurt could tell it was a sign of reluctance, acquiescence, and, just maybe, relief. And then Blaine opened his mouth and coherent thought was no longer a possibility for Kurt. Hazel eyes were staring directly into blue, and he was humming the opening chords, and Kurt fixated on his face, deciding that talking was distinctly overrated.

And then Blaine took another breath, closed his eyes to silently ask whoever was listening for strength, and started to sing quietly.

"I've been alone,

Surrounded by darkness,

And I've seen how heartless

the world can be."

His eyes were on Kurt's face again, singing directly to him, and Kurt thought he'd very much like time to stop.

"And I've seen you crying

You feel like it's hopeless.

I'll always do my best

to make you see..."

His voice, which had stayed quiet to begin with, gained strength on the chorus, and began to echo slightly in the space, making Kurt feel like time might actually have stood still. He wasn't going anywhere to check, though.

"Baby, you're not alone

'cause you're here with me

And nothing's gonna bring us down

'cause nothing can keep me from loving you.

And you know it's true.

It don't matter what'll come to be

Our love is all we need to make it through.

Now, I know it ain't easy.

But it ain't hard trying.

Every time I see you smiling

And I feel you so close to me

And you tell me

Baby you're not alone,

'cause you're here with me.

And nothing's ever gonna bring us down

'cause nothing can keep me from from loving you

And you know it's true.

It don't matter what'll come to be,

Our love is all we need to make it through."

Kurt thought that he had never found the words "our love" more beautiful.

"I still have trouble

I trip and stumble

Trying to make sense of things sometimes.

I look for reasons,

But I don't need 'em.

All I need is to look in your eyes -"

Yes, eyes. Eyes. Eyes were good. He would very much like Blaine's to look at him like that forever.

And I realize -"

Kurt knew Blaine was a performer, but this was ridiculous. It was completely different to his performances, for one thing, he was making every word, every note, count, as though he could burn the song into both their memories. As though it wasn't in Kurt's already. He was talking about him. To him.

"Baby I'm not alone

'Cause you're here with me

And nothing's ever gonna take us down"

The last three words were beautifully punctuated, and Kurt could see Blaine's fingers itching to play the chords.

"'Cause nothing can keep me from loving you

And you know it's true.

It don't matter what'll come be

Our love is all we need to make it through.

Oh, 'cause you're here with me...

And nothing's ever gonna bring us down

'cause nothing nothing nothing can keep me from loving you..."

Having those beautiful words sailing out of those beautiful lips in that beautiful falsetto should be illegal, Kurt thought. Then he met those hazel eyes again and stopped thinking.

"And you know it's true.

It don't matter what'll come to be

You know our love -"

Blaine's eyes had closed to feel out the note, and Kurt just couldn't let the distance between them exist for another second. He reached his hand up to touch Blaine's cheek, and the melody stopped suddenly as every muscle in Blaine's body froze, his eyes still shut, as though he was dreaming and trying really hard not to wake up. After a few seconds of contact he seemed to decide he should know just how insane he had actually become, so his eyes opened. Slowly. Hope, disbelief and confusion mixed with deep browns, mesmerizing greens and a tiny unmistakable glint of lust.

And that was all the encouragement Kurt needed to lean in and find out if Blaine tasted as good as he looked.

Singing to Kurt was the most wonderful thing Blaine had ever done. He'd sung for him a thousand times, of course, and had definitely thrown several lines of Teenage Dream right at him, but he quickly realized that the intimacy of those moments was nothing compared to singing your love song to the person you'd written it for... when they knew both it and you were theirs. Blaine had closed his eyes to try and capture the feeling forever– he'd die happy if he could only remember this moment in the seconds before he went– when he felt Kurt's hand on his cheek. His skin was soft, and warm, and Blaine figured that he must be already dead or dying, because he was pretty sure it was impossible for his heart to be beating as fast as it was without serious consequences. Maybe he was dreaming. He should open his eyes to check.

And then, like the powers-that-be had just decided to grant him everything he wanted at once, Kurt was leaning in towards him and bringing his lips to softly touch Blaine's. That touch was so many things all at once, he recognized. It was a question and an answer. A promise and a request. A plea and a demand. Kurt was hesitant, but not because he was unsure of what he wanted. He was unsure of what Blaine wanted. He didn't know if Blaine wanted this or not – wanted him. And the boy in question, when he grasped this, thought that it was the most idiotic thing he'd ever heard. Or rather, felt. They were clearly both stupid. Very, very stupid.

All of this thinking and recognition had happened in the first few seconds that their lips were touching, and when Blaine didn't immediately respond he felt Kurt tense and prepare to pull away. Which, Blaine internally scoffed, was not going to happen. Preferably ever. He let his hands (which were still on the notebook in his lap) sneak over to grab the lapel of Kurt's coat, keeping him firmly in place, their lips still touching, so he could answer all the unspoken questions. Only words, Blaine decided, were completely overrated. This was much better.

Blaine teased the kiss on by lightly brushing his lips along Kurt's, taking care to never let them lose contact. They had wasted far too much time already. He let his tongue dart out to skim over their joined bottom lips for a moment, earning a small gasp. He immediately decided that Kurt's gasp of pleasure was one of his new favorite sounds ever. He finally let the kiss deepen, bringing a hand to rest gently on the back of Kurt's neck, smiling slightly against the soft lips when he felt a tongue flick against his lips searchingly. Yes, please. He let his lips fall open so that their breath, and tongues, could mingle. And oh, sweet mother of all that was magical in this world, did Kurt taste good. Better than good - about a thousand times better than Blaine was certain it was possible to taste. As he ran his tongue along Kurt's teeth, gasping slightly in pleasure when his... erm... friend's tongue curled to wrap around his own. There must be a God, because this was heaven. Except he was alive. He hadn't even had to die to get this.

It was a messy kiss, filled with need, and longing, and months of each of them telling themselves that this wasn't what they wanted - when they both knew that this was exactly where they needed to be. It wasn't a fairytale kiss, by movie standards. And there were absolutely no fireworks to be found. But it was more true, more right, and more romantic than any kiss had been. At least, that was Blaine's thinking on the matter.

'I could be biased, though,' he considered, fighting the need for air in favor of coaxing Kurt's tongue further into his mouth. It was possible. Then he dismissed the idea (and all ideas) fairly quickly, because Kurt's fingers were tracing circles on his arms, as their tongues were dancing around each other, giving and taking... searching and finding.

But as good as it was, and as much as neither one of them wanted to stop, they were going to need to come up for air eventually. When that moment came they broke apart forcefully, each reeling back a few inched with the loss of contact.

"Wow" Blaine breathed, gasping for air.

"Yeah." Kurt paused. "Blaine, I -"

Blaine's eyes zeroed in on him with something approaching fierceness.

"I swear to god, Kurt, if you say that that was a mistake, or that we should forget it, I'm going to -"

"What? No! I mean.. I thought... I thought it was good." Kurt looked to him for confirmation. "Wasn't it?"

Blaine laughed and leapt to his feet, jumping around in a manner that could only be described as dorky. "Good?" He lept up to stand on the bench, and started walking along it, balancing as though he was on a tightrope. "It was mind blowing. It was earth shattering. It was Hot. As. Hell." He punctuated each word with a lift of his eyebrow. "But most importantly," he jumped down, "it was right." He paused. "It will also probably be the only reason I don't drive back to Dalton right now and kill Wes and David slowly, with pointy objects."

Kurt, who was grinning uncontrollably, widened his eyes at the mention of the pair. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about them."

Blaine muttered darkly. "Yeah, well I haven't."

"Why were you so mad at them?" He saw Blaine's incredulous look, and clarified. "Well, I mean, I know you were mad that they came to show that to me-" he gestured to the notebook, which was lying forgotten on the ground. Blaine picked it up and slipped it in his pocket before Kurt continued. "- but I don't understand what else it was. It wasn't the stuff about your old school, and it can't have been the stuff about me..." He trailed off as he saw Blaine flush and look sheepish. "Wait...it was the stuff about me?"

"I just didn't want them to fuck everything up!" Blaine defended, running his hand through his hair again and sitting back down. "I was afraid if you read that I...had feelings for you, then you might think that was the only reason I was trying to get to know you. Or that it was the only reason we'd become friends in the first place. Or that...you wouldn't feel the same way."

Kurt scoffed. "They do just let any old idiots into Dalton, don't they?" His face softened. "I love my song, though. It's perfect for... us." He smiled at being able to use the word in a new way.

"Well, in fairness, there was the stuff after the song..." Blaine blushed as he spoke, and Kurt was intrigued immediately.

"What stuff? I didn't get to read that far. I stopped when you came in." A look of relief, then one of apprehension crossed his companion's features.

"Err... nothing. Are you hungry? I'm hungry. It's past lunchtime, and I spent the morning chasing incompetent thieves around Ohio." Blaine continued to babble, offering his hand to Kurt and nodding towards the parking lot. "Let's go get lunch, I really am starved. Are there good places around here? How about pizza? I'd really like a slice of pizza right now. Shall we go?"

Kurt looked at the sincere plea in the hazel eyes, and decided to let it go. For now. He intertwined his fingers with Blaine's, noting how perfectly they fit, and stood up to join him. As they walked out of the school, each though in passing that they'd learned quite a bit that day. Blaine had learned about taking risks, and keeping his notebook on him at all times. Kurt had learned to analyze less. He smirked as he realized something else he'd learned.

He'd finally discovered that Blaine didn't taste as good as he looked.

He tasted better.

An Epilogue:

"Are you two ready for my latest wes-capade?"

Two weeks after what Blaine continued to refer to as "that unfortunate example of my friends' instability" Kurt and Blaine looked up from Blaine's bed, where they were reading a magazine, to find David and Wes lounging against the door-frame. Kurt raised an eyebrow in scorn.


"I know, I know. I'm brilliant. It's been mentioned." Wes spied a chocolate muffin on his roommate's desk, and pounced. "Kurt, I'm stealing your muffin. So, anyway, are you guys in?"

"It's mine," Blaine announced, looking annoyed at the interruption. "And no, thank you. We're busy."

Wes looked at the muffin suspiciously, then at Blaine, then put the treat back down on the desk.

"You're reading a magazine." Wes scoffed. "That isn't being busy. Come on! We're four single teenagers, with our whole lives ahead of us toread magazines. Come help me have some fun!"

Blaine waved him towards the door impatiently. "Go away, Wes. Go wreak your havoc somewhere that isn't here. Although," he paused for a sardonic lift of the eyebrow, " I would have thought – or rather hoped - you might have learned to be a little more careful in choosing who you mess with."

Wes had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself for a moment before scowling in displeasure.

"Fine," he grumbled, "David and I will go find people who want to have fun."

Blaine turned his attention back to the magazine. "You do that."

Wes stalked out, muttering something about his roommate being humorless, and David rolled his eyes and waved at them before following his friend down the hall.

As soon as the two of them were out of sight the couple went back to holding hands, Blaine tracing circles on his boyfriend's palm absently as he turned the page.

"You know", Kurt offered, "they're probably going to work out we're together eventually."

Blaine shrugged and smirked. "I hope they do."

"So why don't you tell them? Everybody else knows."

Blaine grinned fully and pressed a kiss to Kurt's cheek. "Oh, it would make Wes far too smug. And David would probably tell him. Besides," he gestured to the muffin, which he then broke a piece off of and offered to Kurt, before taking a bite himself, "I'm kind of enjoying Wes sniffing all the food I give him suspiciously, and then trying to get me to take a bite first."

"You're kind of evil." Kurt noticed a crumb that clung to the side of Blaine's mouth, and decided he would be a bad boyfriend if he didn't get that for him. He snaked his tongue out and licked the crumb away before leaning quickly back to the magazine and widening his eyes in mock innocence. Blaine, whose breath had hitched gratifyingly at the contact, looked at him with narrowed eyes. Very sexy narrowed eyes.

"I'm evil?"

Kurt nodded wisely. "Yes. You're so lucky I put up with you."

He laughed and turned onto his side so they were facing each other. "I suppose I am."

"I really don't know how you'll ever make it up to me."

Hazel eyes glinted with humor and something altogether more primal as Blaine leaned in to whisper in his boyfriend's ear, earning a gratifying shiver of desire. "Oh, don't worry about that." His grin was positively feral. "I have a few ideas I'm just dying to try out."

Wes continued scowling as he and David walked across Dalton to the library. "Do you think Blaine is ever going to let this go and either acknowledge that we meant well or beat us up a little? Because I'm not sure I can take this whole I'm-injured-and-sarcastic thing much longer."

The edges of David's lips turned up minutely into a smile. "I don't know."

It was true. He didn't know.

Except he sort of did.

He'd seen it. It was all in the looks Blaine and Kurt gave each other when they thought he and Wes weren't looking, and the way Blaine always let his arm linger a little longer than necessary whenever they touched... the look of utter adoration Blaine got on his face whenever his phone buzzed a certain way...

But David could have dismissed all that as lingering feelings and unresolved sexual tension if he hadn't seen them earlier in the split second after Wes had opened his dorm room door, before they quite realized they had company. It was tiny. Insignificant. Wes hadn't even noticed. But David had.

In that second, both of their pinky fingers had flown away from each other like they'd been scalded.

They'd been lying together on Blaine's bed, reading a magazine with their pinky fingers intertwined.

It was so cute David had thought he might explode.

But he didn't. And he didn't tell Wes.

Because even though their (Wes') plan had worked, and even though David felt a tiny glimmer of sadness that his best friend hadn't shared his happiness with them just yet, he understood why.

And he figured that he and Wes kind of deserved it.

Especially Wes.

A/N: Well, that's the end. I hope you enjoyed it - I know I enjoyed reading all your wonderful reviews and suggestions. I hope you'll let me know your thoughts. I have two other fics on the go, which you might like, if you want to check them out (I'm pretty excited about one in particular), or we can just go our separate ways. I leave the choice entirely up to you.

The song is "Not Alone" (as some of you guessed from the last chapter), and it's on Darren Criss' EP, as well as the Starkid album. It's one of my favorites. I recommend it.

Also, I wish to copyright the word "Wes-capade".

Thanks for reading! :)