A/N: Yeah, I'm not even going to bother trying to work out if this is good or not, I apparently have no sense of personal-reference. From now on I will upload whatever I work hardest at, because otherwise I'm just going to talk myself out of everything. That means that an angsterific Kurt-fic that I've been struggling with for literally months will soon be clagging Author-Alerts, so watch out. Also, a Harry Potter crossover and a White Collar crossover, because sleep is for suckers.

To everyone who reviewed Shoelaces and Blackout, thank you. You have no idea how much those responses meant to me. I did a little happy dance when Shoelaces hit 100. Without you guys supporting me and encouraging me, I definitely wouldn't be writing more. THANK YOU AND MUCH LOVE!

Blaine Anderson thought of himself as a gentleman. He treated people with respect, did his best to display perfect manners at all times, and was never crude. It wasn't hard; he'd been raised that way. It helped that he tended not to give into the usual social failings of teenage boys: he rarely lost his temper, had a pretty good brain-to-mouth filter that prevented most of the worst possible foot-in-mouth moments, and he wasn't ruled by his hormones. Kurt Hummel managed to make him give in to all three just by getting dirty.

Blaine thought he knew Kurt pretty well. He knew about Kurt's disastrous crush on Finn, about him throwing the high F in Defying Gravity, about how probably half the clothes in Kurt's wardrobe were from the Female collection of whatever designer's work. Kurt knew a lot about him too. He knew about Blaine's obsession with all things Katy Perry and Harry Potter, about his rivalry with his older brother Tate, about the time Blaine had fallen whilst on stage at a Warbler concert and still managed to finish the song with gusto - and a broken ankle. In the nearly four months the two boys had known one another they'd become best friends... and nothing more, despite their heavy flirting and Kurt's frequent, less-than-subtle hints.

Blaine liked Kurt, he really did, but he had a very solid idea in mind that made his feelings purely platonic; Kurt and sex would not mix. It felt wrong to make their relationship sexual or even romantic if he couldn't even picture Kurt with a hair out of place, let alone fantasise about him sweaty and sated. Ever since that first coffee, with Kurt's gorgeous eyes welling up with tears and still not sullying his porcelain facade at all, Blaine couldn't help but think of Kurt as a kind of untouchably clean, immaculate prince; forever put together, pristine and pure. Thinking about Kurt in the context of sex just seemed weird and... unlikely. The older boy knew that Kurt was beautiful; pale, smooth skin, long, elegant limbs, those amazing eyes... but sexual? No; sex was dirty and Kurt was clean, and Blaine was totally convinced that he would never be able to bring himself to think about Kurt in a non-platonic way - or at least, in a sexual way. He'd thought about what it would be like to date Kurt, about long dinners and hand holding and sweet kisses shared in private and public alike. His thoughts about Kurt weren't always purely friendship related, but he didn't really think Kurt needed a boyfriend right now; he needed a friend, someone to relate to who wouldn't put any pressure on him. Blaine could do that. As much as he liked Kurt, as warm it made him feel inside when he thought about dancing with him in candlelight, he was more than happy to be the friend for as long as Kurt needed him. It was actually fairly easy. They got along great, and Kurt was an amazing guy. They shared anything and everything. Blaine didn't think that anything about Kurt could surprise him anymore; not since Kurt had come out of his house before they'd gone to a movie in what at first glance looked like a dress and heels (though Kurt insisted it was a tunic with leggings. He didn't deny that those boots were heeled, though).

Both those particular assumptions were most spectacularly shattered one strangely sunny afternoon in February, when Blaine went to pick Kurt up for their usual weekend coffee 'date' from his dad's garage.

Blaine did know that Kurt worked there sometimes, but for some reason he'd always assumed that he was working the front desk or making coffee or something. He did not expect to hear Kurt's voice drift towards him from under the hood of a shiny car when he wandered into the garage.

"Be with you in just a sec, please feel free to take a seat!" that familiar voice chirped, and Blaine did a double take. He slowly made his way around to the front of the car, sure he'd see Kurt standing next to the actual mechanic looking prim as always, maybe with a clipboard or something. Instead, he saw his assumptions take a flying leap out the nearest window at the sight of Kurt bending over the engine in grease covered overalls, muscles in his arm working as he manipulated an enormous wrench Blaine wasn't sure he would be able to lift, black oil smudged on his forearms and across his face, looking as content and relaxed as Blaine had ever seen him. He glanced up when he saw movement from the corner of his eye, and his face lit up in a smile at the sight of his friend.

"Blaine, hi! Are you early or did I lose track of time?" the countertenor looked around for a clock, and Blaine just gaped. His higher thought processes whirred to a stop, and he was left with only the most basic of logical progressions.

Kurt + dirty =/= bad
Kurt + dirty = happy
Sex = dirty
Kurt + sex = happy

"I need to finish this car, it only came in a few minutes ago," Kurt stretched, and Blaine's eyes stuck on the play of softly defined muscles in his arms. "It won't take me long, though. Do you mind waiting? I still need to clean up, too."

Blaine made a distracted noise that Kurt apparently took as an agreement, because he smiled at him and turned back to the car, bending over and giving Blaine a fantastic view of his ass, his tight, hot ass-

It was like someone had flicked a switch. Gone was the idea of Kurt being untouchable, and suddenly he looked entirely fuckable. Kurt was dirty, Kurt was sexy, and dear God Blaine wanted Kurt. He just stood there dumbly and stared at his friend, his beautiful, funny, suddenly sexy friend and tried to catch his breath. He wanted to pull those coveralls down and take Kurt over that car. He wanted to blow Kurt as they drove to the Lima Bean, hear what that high, expressive voice sounded like all flustered and hot. He wanted to replace that streak of black on Kurt's cheek with something white and a lot more fun. He wanted Kurt like he'd never wanted anything in his life.

Wait, I can't jump him, we're just friends. FUCKBUCKETS.

"I'll wait in my car!" Blaine blurted out, and took off at a run before Kurt could respond. His heart was racing, beating so hard he thought it was rattling his ribcage. His palms were sweaty and his mouth was dry, and there was a familiar, frustrating tightness in his pants that guaranteed that it was going to be a very awkward couple of hours.

I can't just jump Kurt, we're friends! After all he's been through he deserves romance, slow dancing and candlelit dinners, not his pervy older friend violently humping his leg, Blaine told his dick firmly, glaring at the offending appendage through his pants. His libido almost growled at him.

But - but - but - he's sexy! So very very sexy. How did we not realise the sexy before? Why are we not doing him now? Those lips would look so good all bruised from kissing and wet and wrapped around -

Kurt is my friend and that's all he needs right now! Blaine argued. Even if I was to ask him out -

- which I should, like, NOW, before someone else does. Also, the sooner we're dating the sooner I can see how high his voice can really go.

Shut up shut up shut up, we're not talking about this, Blaine let his forehead hit the steering wheel, sighing heavily and squeezing his eyes shut. Kurt and I are just friends, and even if I asked him out tomorrow he wouldn't sleep with me right away. He's too good for that.

What, so wanting sex is a flaw now? the less refined part of him grumbled. You're both teenage boys. You're great friends and great together. Why shouldn't he want to sleep with you? You should ask him, I bet he'd say yes.

I am not just going to ask Kurt to sleep with me! Oh my God, that would be terrible. 'Oh, hi Kurt! You know how we've always just been good friends? I suddenly noticed that you're hotter than the sun, so hows about I give you a blow job?' Very classy, just brilliant.

Oh, man, can you imagine what he'd taste like? And the way he'd look all strung out in pleasure? And the noises he'd make if I -

Shut up shut up shut up!



"Fuck!" Blaine's head snapped up as he jumped about a foot in the air. Kurt had opened the passenger door, and was staring at him with a mixture of shock and concern. The oil had been cleaned off his face and he was wearing neat and impeccably clean clothes, but it was too late. Blaine had seen him dirty and all he wanted to do was mess him up again.

"Are you okay?" Kurt crawled into the car, and Blaine flushed and looked away as Kurt placed a gentle hand on his arm. "You were muttering 'Shut up' over and over under your breath. What's up?"

"Nothing! I just - nothing," the older boy stammered, frantically feeling for his keys in his pockets. "So, coffee? We're getting coffee, right? At the Lima Bean? Let's go!"

"Uh, maybe you don't need any coffee right now," Kurt suggested, attempting to take Blaine's keys off him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, I'm fan-fucking-tastic, can we just go?" he snapped, yanking the keys away from Kurt's long, slender fingers (I would do dirty things to those hands. Mmm, just imagine them slippery and sliding into-) and turning the car on with stiff movements. Kurt's voice was cool when he finally spoke.


Blaine winced a little at the ice in his friend's voice, and tried to sound a little less frazzled, "Look, I'm sorry for snapping. I'm a little stressed out, but it's no big deal. Don't worry about it. Let's just get our coffee, it'll take my mind off things. Okay?"

Kurt left him hanging for about thirty seconds as they drove, but eventually patted him on the leg and spoke much more warmly, "Yeah, okay. But you know you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he shot Kurt a half-hearted smile, doing his best not to stare at the other boy's lips for too long. "And I will, but right now I just need a distraction."

"That I can provide,' Kurt chirped, sitting back in his seat. "I was talking to Mercedes earlier. I have New Directions drama to share!"

"Excellent, lay it on me."

"Okay, so apparently Artie caught Brittany and Santana singing a duet of "Lips of an Angel" to one another and now he feels bad, because he thinks Brittany is in love with Santana but doesn't want to hurt him, and Rachel went nuts at Santana over something and called her a raging closet-case so everyone kind of knows about it..."

Blaine actually managed to do okay with the whole not-jumping-Kurt thing on the way to the coffee shop. He couldn't look at Kurt, sure, but he also wasn't sucking on Kurt's pulse points so he was doing pretty well. They got their coffee orders, his a decaf black, Kurt's a frothy whipped cream (Oh Jesus fuck why did he have to get whipped cream?) monstrosity. Blaine smiled as he listened to Kurt's increasingly dramatic tales, and stared determinedly into the wooden table. He thought he was doing a pretty good job at acting normal. Kurt disagreed.

"...so I guess that Puck's bisexual now, which totally doesn't shock me at all, I've always kind of thought of him as anything-that-move-sexual anyway so WHAT IS UP WITH YOU?"

Blaine jumped about a foot off his seat, raising his eyes to look at Kurt in alarm. Kurt was glaring at him fiercely, a tiny wisp of whipped cream on his lower lip. Blaine's eyes fastened on it, unable to tear his gaze away. I want to lick that off.

"W-what?" he managed to stammer, failing to make his voice sound anything other than breathless. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You can't even look me in the eye. Something is wrong. Did I do something to offend you?"

"No, you didn't offend me," Blaine murmured blankly, still caught on the whipped cream on Kurt's lip. Tasty, tasty whipped cream on tasty, tasty Kurt...

"Then why won't you look at me?" Kurt demanded, mouth twisted in irritation. Blaine was miles away.

Mmm, tasty Kurt.

"Blaine!" Kurt smacked him upside the head gently, and Blaine yelped at the sudden contact.

"What is up? You look like you've seen a ghost... or maybe a pastry or something. To be honest, you're drooling a little."

"I have a confession," Blaine's eyes widened at his own words, but he plunged on anyway despite himself. "Until I saw you in the garage, I hadn't realised you could get dirty."

There was a long pause, during which Kurt looked at Blaine like he was a crazy person and Blaine realised he sounded like one, "Okay, that sounded weird. I mean, I knew you could get dirty, but I didn't realise you liked it. Or didn't mind it. Or something. I don't know. I just never thought of you as dirty before."

"...what?" Kurt's head was tilted adorably, and Blaine shrugged sheepishly.

"I just - you're always so clean and stuff. When I saw you all dirty it just..."

"Made you completely lose your mind?" Kurt suggested flatly. "Seriously, you've been acting like the sun was about to supernova. This is just because you realised that I'm a human being rather than a mannequin?"

"Well, that and what else that made me realise," Blaine muttered, looking at his feet. Kurt raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He tired to explain. "Look, I've only ever thought about you... platonicly, you know? Not because you're not awesome, you are, and not because we don't connect, because we do, and I actually did kind of want to date you but it always seemed weird to think about you... you know, sexually. Because you were so untouchable. But then I saw you all covered in grease and stuff and you looked touchable and now I really, really want to touch you."

The speech got steadily faster and faster as he went on. He could feel himself jamming his foot down his throat with every syllable, but he couldn't make himself stop. Kurt's eyes were getting wider and wider, and by the end of the speech his jaw was practically hanging to the table. Blaine smiled weakly, "Uh, sorry?"

Kurt just blinked a few times, before stammering, "W-what? You want us to... date?"

Blaine took a deep breath, "Yeah, I want to. I want you to be my boyfriend. I've thought about it before but figured that maybe you wanted a friend more and that was fine but now I really, really want to but I'm honestly not sure it's a good idea because you're still dealing with all that horrible stuff you went through and you deserve a boyfriend who is patient and romantic and right at this particular second all I can think about is licking that whipped cream off your lip. Not that I would, like, force you or anything, God no. I just really, really, really want in your pants. Oh God, I sound like a lunatic. I'm sorry, can we just forget this? Please?"

"Nope," Kurt dragged the word out, smirking a little at Blaine's pathetic pout, "I want to make sure I've got this right. You've wanted to be my boyfriend, but wanted to give me some space first."


"It was easy, because you didn't think of me sexually, just romantically."

"That's a good way of putting it, yeah."

"You didn't think of me sexually because you had some weird idea that I couldn't get dirty?"

"You see, it sounds stupid when you put it like that."

"No kidding. Now, you've seen that I can and actually don't mind getting dirty, and you're being driven crazy with lust for my hot body."

"That was an excellent summary. You're much more eloquent than me."

"Good to know. So," Kurt spread his hands in an elegant approximation of a shrug. "What's the problem, exactly? I'm interested in you, you have to know that. Subtlety is not my forte, I am aware of this."

"I know, I know, but I really don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or rush you, and right now I don't trust myself not to just slid under the table and suck you off."

Kurt's mouth dropped open again, "Uh..."

Blaine flushed, stammering, "Sorry, that was -"

"You said there was whipped cream on my lip?"

Blaine blinked at the non-sequitur, "Uh, yeah, your lower lip on the right - well, your left-"

"Lick it off."

The older boy froze, staring at Kurt with wide eyes. Kurt's cheeks were slightly flushed, and his eyes were unfocused. He's turned on. Ask him to fuck you! Kurt tilted his head, unaware of Blaine's internal monologue.

"You heard me. You want to lick it off? I"m not going to stop you."

"Kurt, I -" Blaine licked his lips, eyes caught on the little dob of cream again. "I might get a little carried away."

Kurt smirked, "That is so fine with me, I can't even tell you."

Slowly Blaine slid around the booth so their sides were touching. Kurt's eyes were bright and his lips were slightly parted. Blaine could feel his hands trembling as he leaned in, slowly, enjoying the feel of Kurt's hot breath on his face. Kurt's eyes fluttered closed, and Blaine took that as his final permission. He licked a slow stripe across Kurt's lower lip, taking the cream off with one lick. He didn't stop though, couldn't have if a car drove into the building. He kept placing tiny kitten licks on the plump lip, feeling Kurt's breathing speeding up against his own mouth. He gentle nibbled on the spot, making Kurt gasp, and Blaine could feel one of those long, slender hands grasping at his arm. He sucked Kurt's entire lower lip into his mouth, suckling on it and relishing in the tiny, barely audible moan Kurt made.

"Blaine," the countertenor whispered, reaching his other hand up to stroke Blaine's chest through his t-shirt. "God, Blaine, just kiss me."

Blaine finally pressed his lips flat against Kurt's, moaning when he felt how much softer and plumper they felt against him. He reached up and grasped Kurt's gorgeous angular face between his palms and felt Kurt's hands slide around his waist. Their lips slid together smoothly, teeth pressing just a little too hard for comfort but neither boy willing to pull back at all. Blaine tangled his fingers in the collar of Kurt's turtleneck and dragged him closer, pressing their torsos together. Kurt whimpered into Blaine's mouth, a needy sound that dragged into a moan when their tongues stroked across the other.

"Get a room, fags!" a harsh voice broke their kiss. Without missing a beat, Kurt pulled away and attached a disdainful expression to his face.

"Get a girlfriend, breeder," he called over to the sneering man a few tables over, provoking a laugh from a few girls at the counter. He turned back to Blaine, his lips swollen and red and so very hot that the other boy nearly missed what he said next. "But we should get out of here, no reason to cause a scene. My place should be empty, do you want to go there? We should probably talk, anyway."

Blaine stammered, his brain not quite having caught up with the situation, "Can there be more kissing too?"

Kurt laughed, standing smoothly and dragging Blaine along behind him, "You'll get no complaints from me."

Blaine staggered out after Kurt, mind buzzing with pleasure overload. He knew that they needed to talk, to slow down, to work out where to go from here but instead of climbing into the car and driving somewhere private they could do that, he followed Kurt around to his side of the car. When Kurt turned to face him with a questioning look he pressed the taller boy backwards, against the car. He could feel a thrilling hardness pressed tight against the confines of Kurt's red skinny jeans, and he rested his own arousal against it. When he heard Kurt's gasp he pulled away a bit, looking up into those amazing eyes and trying to convey his want. He managed to get his head together for long enough to ask, "One more kiss, before we have to be all serious again?"

Kurt nodded emphatically, curling his hands in Blaine's hair and crushing their mouths together again. Blaine groaned deep in his chest, pressing himself against Kurt again. This time there was no shock, just enthusiasm. Kurt rocked his hips against Blaine's as he sucked on the older boy's tongue, prompting a strangled whimper. Their tongues twisted together, Kurt's proving flexible enough to make Blaine weak-kneed. Blaine pulled away enough to bury his face in the crook of the long, elegant neck in front of him. He pressed feverish kisses to the smooth flesh, nipping and sucking a little at the jumping pulse point in front of his mouth. Kurt gasped again, digging strong fingers into Blaine's hips and rutting against him, the back of his head falling against his car with a thunk. They were writhing together, uncaring of the potential of being caught; Blaine was still trying to work out how he hadn't thought of Kurt as sexy before. These noises should be illegal.

Kurt's soft hand was sliding up under Blaine's t-shirt, running up his side with hesitant strokes. Blaine leaned into the touch, nipping at the slowly reddening skin on Kurt's throat and moaning. The taller boy managed to speak with a breathless, high-pitched voice, "We should stop."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, then licked the shell of Kurt's ear without pause. Kurt's hips rocked against his, making both of them moan, and dragged his hand across Blaine's chest to lightly pinch his nipple. Blaine rutted harder, hissing, "Yes..."

"We should stop, drive to my place, talk about - oh Gaga, like that, yes - talk about what we're doing and then - fuck, Blaine, you feel so good - maybe start kissing again," Kurt stammered, still thrusting his hips into Blaine with equal enthusiasm. His voice was punctuated by whimpers and gasps, and Blaine drank in those amazing sounds while making more than a few of his own; Kurt's slender fingers were still toying with his chest.

"Yeah, we - shit, twist them harder - we should talk about it like - fuck, fuck, fuck, you're so fucking hot - like adults," Blaine kissed Kurt again, sliding his own hands down Kurt's neck, across his chest and waist, down to his ass and thighs. He squeezed the tight muscles appreciatively. He kneaded the muscle and dragged Kurt towards him, senses overloading between the hot tongue and the muscular thigh in his hand.

Finally, Kurt pulled back with a groan, easing a reluctant Blaine off him. His pupils were blown out with lust, and his voice was rough and demanding, "Get in the car. These jeans are Gucci, I'm not coming in them."

Blaine groaned and sprinted to the other side of the car, fumbling in his pocket for the keys. He and Kurt scrambled in to put their seat belts on as he peeled out of the car park, sweating and hard and just desperate to get somewhere private. Blaine sped the whole way to Kurt's house, hyper aware of Kurt breathing heavily next to him and palming himself through his red jeans. When they screamed into Kurt's driveway (his car parked basically sideways in the drive) they tumbled out of the car and ran up the driveway, Kurt's keys already in his hands. They kissed and groped as they staggered through the door. Blaine's hoodie was flung on the back of the couch on the way to the basement stairs, followed by his t-shirt being dumped on the way down the stairs. Kurt's turtleneck found it's way on top of his lamp. They crashed together on the couch, their bare chests sliding together and driving them wild. Kurt latched his mouth on to one of Blaine's nipples, sucking in hard when Blaine arched off the couch and against Kurt's groin. Blaine ran his hands up that impossibly flawless back, soft like silk. It was ecstasy, heat flowing through his veins and gathering in his crotch, hearing tiny little moans and whimpers from his -


Blaine stopped rocking for a moment, dragging Kurt off his chest with a reluctant moan, "We're meant to be talking."

Kurt pressed their erections together through the denim, "Seriously?"

"Yes, Kurt, seriously," Blaine couldn't help the gasp as pleasure rocking into him. "I don't want to - fuck, that's good - I don't want to come before I've at least asked you on a date."

"So hurry up and ask, I'm so close," Kurt whimpered, leaning so he was lying on top of Blaine on the couch. Blaine felt Kurt's hand slip between them and unzip the fly of his red jeans. "I want you so much, Blaine. I've wanted you for so long."

"Come out with me tonight," Blaine moaned when Kurt's sneaky hand undid his fly too, shoving the older boy's jeans down enough to see the grey boxer briefs underneath. "God, yes, please, Kurt. I want to be with you, I want us to be together."

"Yes," Kurt gasped back, shoving his own jeans down to his knees and pressing his brief covered erection against Blaine's. "Yes, yes, Blaine, I want it too."

Blaine gave in, capturing Kurt's swollen mouth again in a heated kiss, thrusting against the hardness in front of him. He dragged Kurt down from where he was holding his weight on his arms, pressing their bare chests and thighs together. They moved together frantically, desperately, both so close to the edge they could taste it. Kurt gave in first, almost sobbing with pleasure as he rocked against Blaine, leaving a wet stickiness between them, clinging with the hands buried in Blaine's hair as though they were all that was keeping him on the planet. It was that sight that pushed Blaine over the edge; Kurt, beautiful, immaculate Kurt, sweaty and swollen lipped, his hair sticking in every direction with flushed cheeks and Blaine's saliva coating his mouth. Blaine came with Kurt's name on his lips, fire burning through him from the tip of his tongue to the tips of his toes, pouring out of him and mixing with Kurt's on their skin, making them dirty. They lay together, gasping and pressing messy kisses to one another until they came down off their soaring highs. Kurt finally dropped his head against Blaine's shoulder, breathing out a little laugh against his skin.

"So, yeah, that was unexpected," he mumbled, shifting his weight across Blaine's prone body. Blaine chuckled and slid his hands around Kurt's waist, basking in afterglow.

"I gotta say, I didn't see it coming either," the older teen pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Kurt's head, smiling at the content sigh this provoked. For a moment they didn't speak, just lay together and gathered their thoughts. Eventually Blaine found the words, and spoke them softly into Kurt's hair. "I don't want to regret this, Kurt. Maybe it was stupid and too fast but I want you so much. I don't know why it took me so long to realise how sexy and desirable you are, but I was telling the truth when I said I wanted to be with you."

"So was I," Kurt's muffled voice was soft. "Even if this wasn't how I imagined it happening, I'm glad."

He tilted his head up to look Blaine in the eye, and smiled a shy smile, "So, we're dating now? 'Cause I have to tell you, I don't put out for just anybody. You're something special, Blaine Anderson."

"We're definitely dating," Blaine confirmed, giving Kurt a little squeeze. "I don't usually jump boys I don't have plans to romance. I can't wait to walk down the hallways at school holding your hand. I'm proud to be yours, Kurt Hummel."

Kurt grinned and kissed him sweetly, shyly, as though they hadn't just been humping on his couch. The shift did remind Blaine, though, as his underwear shifted... squishily. He wrinkled his nose a little at the sensation, but Kurt seemed happy to remain sticky and dirty for the time being. A thought suddenly occurred to Blaine, and he laughed, "Did you call that guy at the Bean a 'breeder'?"

Kurt blushed a little, "Maybe."

Kurt pouted as Blaine laughed, whining, "He was interrupting my super hot first real kiss! And he called us fags. Consider it me fighting back. Stop laughing!"

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm impressed!" Blaine couldn't help the slightly girly giggle that escaped him as he tried to calm down. "I couldn't think past 'Must kiss Kurt more,' and you were launching a comeback to that asshole. Kudos, major kudos."

"Thank you, I'll be here all week," Kurt chuckled a little, letting his head rest next to Blaine's. "What now?"

"I figure now we clean up and I take you out for that date I promised you," Blaine couldn't get the smile off his face, and he compulsively squeezed Kurt again. His inner voice was doing a happy dance, singing I have a super hot boyfriend, I have a super hot boyfriend, over and over again. "Does this town have any other restaurants other than Breadsticks?"

"Yeah, it's just the only half-way decent one a student budget can afford," Kurt was smiling an equally silly smile as he sat up and stretched, totally comfortable despite his partial nudity. Blaine's eyes locked on the pale torso he hadn't taken the time to appreciate before, taking in the dusky pink nipples, the narrow waist, the jutting hipbones...

"How did I not think about you like this before?" he wondered aloud, reached up to caress a pale hip. "You're gorgeous."

Kurt blushed, and to Blaine's delight it went halfway down his chest. The pale boy smirked despite it, smoothing down his wild hair with a flick of his wrist, "And to think, all I had to do was stop trying to look good around you. You know, just for future reference..."

He leaned in and let his lips brush Blaine's ear, dropping his voice to a throaty whisper, "I keep a spare pair of coveralls in my closet."

With that, he stood up elegantly, slipped his shoes and pants off in one motion, and strutted around to couch, towards his bathroom, "I'm going to take a quick shower. You might want to sneak upstairs and pick up your shirt before my dad sees it. He owns a shotgun, you know."

As Blaine rushed up the stairs, zipping up his fly as he went, he couldn't help but shake his head at the sudden shift in his worldview. He'd lost his temper, forgotten his manners, let his hormones rule and gotten himself well and truly dirty. His come-stained underwear chafed a little as he zipped his hoodie back up, and he blushed when he thought about asking Kurt to borrow some of his. The memory of Kurt's sexy, confidant, happy swagger as he'd made his way to the bathroom made Blaine grin. Just because Kurt was his immaculate, clean prince didn't mean he didn't know how to get dirty.