(Title really has nothing to do with the book or movie. Just fyi)

This idea came to me a few days ago and I decided to tackle it immediately because I just loved it so much. This was inspired by Kurt's little doodle in Silly Love Songs and I wondered what would happen if Blaine came across that notebook. So, I hope you enjoy! No smut here, just awesome fluff and some angst, though I am planning a redux or sequel so look out for that!

Note: I know that apparently Dalton isn't a boarding school, but for the purposes of this story it is. It just works better.

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Glee or the characters Kurt and Blaine.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine says, bumping his shoulder into Kurt's as they move down the hallways of Dalton Academy.

"Oh, hi Blaine. How are you feeling?" They stop outside in the doorway of their biology class and Kurt shifts his books from one arm to the other.

"Much better, thank you. You should have seen my Linda Blair impressions over this past week it was—or, well, it's probably best that you didn't," Blaine backtracks when Kurt's eyes widen at the mental image he was creating. "Um, I'm—"

"Blaine, it's okay. I'm just glad to see you're not still dying. I missed you in English class on Friday. Nobody else was laughing at the jokes in Midsummer Night's Dream," Kurt sighs and rolls his eyes, "I weep for our generation."

The bell rings, signifying everyone should be in class. The two rush to their seats behind one of the long black counters of the biology lab.

"Oh, yeah, about that. I wanted to know if I could borrow your notes? I can't afford to miss anything right now, especially with Regionals coming up. Warblers practice is already taking up so much of our time," Blaine says as he sets his messenger bag on the floor.

"Of course you can. I have an appointment with the guidance counselor after class, but Wyatt should be in our dorm," Kurt jumps when their teacher, a well-dressed middle-aged man named Mr. Cavan, shushes at him before continuing his instructions on the day's lab assignment.

But Kurt continues, whispering, "My notebook should be on my desk. It's the black one."

"Thank you so much," Blaine and Kurt look at each other for just a second, before quickly refocusing their attention on the task at hand. Kurt slides off his stool to collect some beakers and Blaine looks over the ingredients list on the paper in front of him.

After class, Blaine and Kurt part ways. Blaine moves down the East Wing and across the lawn toward the dormitories and steps lightly up the stairs. Kurt's door is on the second floor, just past the hall's shared bathroom. He knocks three times, and it takes a moment but Kurt's roommate, Wyatt, opens the door. Wyatt is a somewhat shy boy with a mess of bronze hair and thick eyebrows. When he sees Blaine, his face is friendly but he looks around, unsure of what to do.

"Hey, Blaine, Kurt's not here right now. He should be back soon, though." Wyatt says.

"Oh, I know. I'm here to borrow his English notebook," Blaine replies, messing with the strap of his bag.

"Oh, okay. Sure," Wyatt steps aside and moves over to his desk, returning to the homework he must have been doing before Blaine knocked.

Blaine steps in and walks over to Kurt's desk on the opposite side of the room. Kurt's desk is neatly organized so Blaine spots the black notebook immediately. But as he reaches for it, his eyes fall on an identical one sitting on the other side of the desk. He turns in Wyatt's direction, "Hey, Wyatt, do you know which notebook is Kurt's English one?"

"The black one," Wyatt replies, not looking up from the book he is reading.

"That… that doesn't help," Blaine mutters to himself. He picks up the one he had originally reached for and pages through it to check if it's the right one.

But he stops when he sees his name flash at him as he flips through it. He shuffles through the notebook until he finds the page and he stares. In red, bold letters, Blaine's name stares back at him, enclosed in a heart.

His own heart starts beating wildly as he looks through the other pages of the book. With each page he discovers that it is filled with doodles and notes, all covered in hearts and all about him. Sometimes the hearts are crossed through with an arrow and sometimes just plain crossed through, as if in frustration.

He knows he shouldn't, but Blaine holds on to the notebook as he reaches for the English one and he practically runs out of the room, mumbling a thanks in Wyatt's direction before closing the door behind him. Outside in the hall, Blaine stops and is torn between running back to his room on the third floor or just collapsing onto the ground where he stands. Instead, he compromises and heads for the study lounge at the end of the hall.

Thankfully, the room is empty. Falling into one of the plush chairs, Blaine takes a second to refocus his thoughts. His eyes are squeezed shut as one of his hands rubs at the bridge of his nose, while the other hand is still clutching the notebook to his chest. He was not supposed to see that. He should not even have it. Blaine's thoughts fight against each other between guilt and embarrassment. But he is also well aware of the curiosity pushing itself toward the forefront of his mind.

This shouldn't come as a surprise to you, Blaine, he thinks. Just three weeks ago he admitted he thought you were going to ask him out. And he was so upset about the whole Rachel fiasco…

Blaine internally kicks himself. How can I be so blind? His breath catches in his throat and with shaking hands he opens the book again. I shouldn't be doing this, he thinks. I should respect Kurt's privacy. I've already seen too much. He opens the book to a random page and practically hiccups when he sees the words, "Gosh your lips look delicious" scrawled along the top in loopy handwriting. For a second, Blaine doesn't even think about the words but instead admires Kurt's penmanship—he's never noticed how nice Kurt's writing is. He snaps out of his reverie, though, when his conscious kicks in. That's it, Blaine, no more.

But just as he moves to close the notebook, he hears a thud and looks up to see Kurt in the doorway, his bag slumped at his feet. Kurt's expression is unreadable as he says, "Wyatt told me you stopped by the dorm and that you sort of left in a hurry. I thought something might be wrong, that maybe you were getting sick again…" Kurt is staring at the book in Blaine's hands as he speaks, his voice turning to a flat monotone as he tapers off. "Why—where—um, why do you have that?"

Kurt's face is suddenly flushed red as he strides toward Blaine, who has been rendered frozen. "Blaine?" Kurt prompts, his voice is shaky now and his blue eyes pierce Blaine. Blaine can feel the fiery stab of Kurt's gaze somewhere behind his ribs.

Blaine swallows thickly, and suddenly he is very aware of his tongue. Say something. Anything. The situation can't possibly be any worse than it already is, he thinks.

"You have really nice handwriting," Blaine manages to choke out. Or apparently, it can. Awesome.

Kurt's eyes widen and Blaine notices his lips pulling together just slightly. Blaine is looking up at Kurt from his seat in the chair, bracing himself for Kurt's totally justified anger. He watches as a flood of emotions play across Kurt's face.

"Blaine," Kurt says again through gritted teeth, and he exhales.

Blaine can't stand the tension, he stammers over his words, "Kurt before you yell at me, I want you to know that you have every right to. Yell at me, that is. I shouldn't have looked. I should have just left but I didn't. I don't know what came over me. I of all people would never intentionally break your trust. This—this is obviously private and it's none of my business to—"

"Blaine," Kurt says again, seeming to realize how repetitive he sounds when he shakes his head. As he does so, Kurt's eyes fall on the notebook again, its pages still open, displaying in large red letters, "I'll let you put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans, Blaine!" Kurt flushes even deeper and Blaine, looking down at the book in his hands, tosses it away from him as if it had caught fire. He stands up, realizing immediately that the gesture does little in the way of making him feel better. Kurt's height advantage, though slight, seems all the more intimidating by his unwavering gaze.

But Kurt blinks and takes a step back, sucking in a breath, "Blaine, I can't believe you took that. That just—it's one thing to read it. It's an entirely different matter to actually take it," Blaine can tell that Kurt is struggling to keep his voice from rising. "I should be so angry at you right now. You're right, I have every right to be mad at you. I should storm out and I should avoid you in the hallways because I'm too upset or too embarrassed or whatever. I should feel betrayed…"

Blaine tilts his head slightly as Kurt's tone changes from anger to something else. "But Blaine, I'm not. I'm so freaking tired of tip-toeing around my feelings with you. I thought I had made it clear on Valentine's Day but then we had that fight after Rachel's party… Blaine, I like you, okay? And you can't have any more proof than that notebook," Kurt gestures widely at the book now lying on the floor, his voice shaking in exasperation. "But I never know where I stand with you. All I've ever done is be myself and be honest with you and it's just like—it's like it's not enough for you. You said that you don't want to screw this up, but you have to actually have something in order to screw it up, Blaine. Look, I know you said that you're terrible at romance and that you have trouble expressing your feelings but this is just ridic—"

Kurt's last word is muffled as Blaine's lips crash against his own, his hands gripping the back of Kurt's neck. But Kurt pushes Blaine away roughly, his face colored with confusion. Blaine breaks away with a gasp and they just stare at each other. Suddenly, the situation dawns on Kurt and he closes the distance between them again in one stride, kissing Blaine with renewed urgency. Kurt's breathing is heavy and ragged from yelling, and he pants into Blaine's mouth.

As their lips move over each other, slick and messy, Blaine can't believe he waited so long to do this. For four months, Kurt had been right there for the taking and he was too busy with school or Warblers practice or chasing Jeremiah or experimenting with Rachel to actually notice. But then another thought strikes him and he pulls away.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry. I didn't want our first kiss to be like this," Blaine shakes his head, his eyebrows knitting together in worry as he looks up at Kurt.

"Blaine, the least you can do after all of this is stop talking and just kiss me," Kurt breathes, and he pulls Blaine toward him again by the back of his neck. This time, the kiss is slow and gentle. This is the way it was meant to be like, but Blaine pushes that thought out of his head and just lets it happen. Because it's finally happening. Kurt's mouth is warm and eager, if not a little hesitant. Neither of them have much experience in this area. And Blaine doesn't even count Rachel, especially not compared to this. The moment his lips touched Kurt's Blaine could swear he saw fireworks.

Blaine lifts a shaking hand to cup Kurt's cheek and can't help but notice how perfectly smooth it is. Kurt sort of shudders and pulls away again, but this time a small smile is tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Well," Kurt exhales, and Blaine can see he's trying to fight off a burst of giggles.

"Well," Blaine repeats, and now he can't stop smiling, either.

For a moment, the two just stare at each other. But Kurt breaks eye contact and looks at his feet, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, as if suddenly shy.

"Hey, Kurt, that was—" Blaine begins and takes a step toward the taller boy.

"Amazing," Kurt says, biting his lip, but he still won't meet Blaine's gaze.

"Yeah," Blaine agrees with a nervous laugh.

"Look, Blaine, I don't know why you did that," Blaine stops laughing when Kurt finally looks at him. "If this was just another impulsive thing or whatever, I don't want to know. But Blaine, if you—if you really wanted to do that I need to hear you say it. After Karofsky I don't know if I can take another stolen kiss like that," Kurt pauses, shaking his head, "Not from you. Especially not from you."

During this speech Blaine is just standing there, dumbstruck. He takes another step toward the boy, staring intently into those striking blue eyes. He only breaks eye contact to look down at Kurt's hand as he takes it into his own. "Kurt, I wanted to do kiss you. And I can't believe it took a silly notebook and for you to yell at me to finally prompt me to do so. I must have been crazy not to have realized before."

"Are you sure you're not still crazy? That this isn't just another experiment?" Kurt asks, a note of frustration in his voice.

But Blaine leans forward and presses his lips against Kurt's once more before looking up at Kurt through his eyelashes to say, "Is that proof enough for you?"

"Um," is all Kurt manages to say.

"Amazing. I've rendered Kurt Hummel speechless. I must have done something right, finally," Blaine says, chuckling. He squeezes Kurt's hand and it takes a second, but Kurt squeezes back.

Temporarily breaking his grasp, Blaine moves over to where the notebook still lay on the floor and picks it up, flipping through its pages once more.

"Now," Blaine says, taking Kurt's hand again and leading him out of the study lounge toward the stairs to the third floor, "What's this about skin-tight jeans?"