"Blaine?" Those big, bright crystal eyes looked at me. My heart ached when I saw the stagnant tears resting there. He looked so beautiful right now, despite the tears, standing here in these lights, the crown glistening atop that gorgeous head of hair. "Can we leave, now?"

I wrapped my arm more securely around his waist, moving my other hand to his cheek. "Of course, darling." I took the toy scepter from him and grasped his hand. I looked at him for another moment, smiling softly, standing close to him. "Can I tell you something?" He nodded. "You look beautiful tonight." He blushed, the tears fading a little.

"You don't look half bad yourself," he said quietly. I smiled shyly and led him out of the gym, away from hateful glares, scowls and scorn. He took a long, deep breath when we were outside, letting a tear trek down his cheek. I opened the door to the limousine, gesturing for him to get inside. He curtsied slightly, trying to smile.

This wasn't right. Prom was supposed to be magical, beautiful and wonderful. No one should cry on Prom night, no one, especially not this sweet, innocent, moral boy that deserved nothing but happiness. He slid inside, sighing and putting his hands in his lap. I sat beside him, gingerly taking his hand, wondering if he wanted me to touch him or not. He squeezed back, looking at me.

"Do you want to go to any of the after parties or Breadstix, or…?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No. Not unless you want to," he said. I shook my head, smiling warmly.

"No, darling, this is your night. We'll do whatever you want."

"I don't want to go," he whispered. I held his face.

"Well, we have about two hours left of drive time in this," I patted the seat. "How about we ride around for awhile?" He smiled, nodding.

"I'd like that."

I told the driver and we went.

He leaned his head against my shoulder, sniffling. He yanked the crown off and tossed it away, angry. "Hey." I whispered. I held his cheek, lifting his chin. His lips trembled, eyes swimming. I pulled him into my arms, hugging him close and tight. I slid one arm under his legs, setting him in my lap. He hugged my neck, crying into my shoulder.

"Shh, it's alright. I'm here, I'm here, shh…" I kissed his cheek and his ear, rocking him gently.

"How is it you always know what I need?" He sniffed. I half-smiled, slightly embarrassed.

"I…I don't know, sweetheart. I just…I know you." He nuzzled his face in my neck.

"You, you don't think less of me for crying, d-do you?" I squeezed him tighter, shutting my eyes painfully.

"No, baby," I breathed. "Absolutely not. Let it out, darling. Shh…" He cried harder. I lifted his legs, draping them over my lap, pulling him even closer to me. "Shh, let it out. I've got you, baby," I soothed, running my fingers through his hair. He sniffed, leaning his face into my neck. He was so soft and warm…beautiful. "Oh," I said, remembering. He looked up at me. I smiled at him. "I forgot to tell you," I held his face. "You are by far, the most beautiful Prom Queen I've ever seen. No contest." He shook his head.

"Quinn would have looked much better in this thing than I would. She always does…"

God, he didn't understand. He didn't know how breathtaking he was, how he turned my knees to jelly just by walking, how he was all I thought about, all I wanted. My heart stuttered every time I looked at him, and when I picked him up tonight I almost had a heart attack. The smell and feel of his skin, the crystal blue of his eyes, the taste of his lips…

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, you look at me right now," I demanded, gently though. He looked up at me. "Despite your beliefs you are gorgeous. Sometimes I can't even breathe when you're close to me." I kissed the top of his head. "For you or anyone else to claim that you are less attractive than they are is a federal offense. You are so incredibly beautiful, Kurt, and there isn't a single thing about you that isn't." I kissed him deeply, cradling his satin-like cheek.

"Thank you," he breathed. "I-I don't agree with you, b-but thank you." I held him close, nuzzling my cheek beside his.

I stroked his hair while he continued to cry, rocking him gently. I hummed softly, hoping to calm him and possibly lull him into sleep, where he might be able to escape this pain.

"What is that?" He gulped. I smiled, resting my cheek on top of his head.

"'Lullabye' by Fall Out Boy," I said quietly. He nodded, leaning back into my neck, not sobbing, but still crying. I felt his tears on my skin, felt his lips there, shaking and taking trembling breaths. I continued humming, adjusting him to rub his forehead and kiss his temple. He was asleep long before the car arrived at his house.

"Thank you," I said to the driver. I kept Kurt in my arms, the crown dangling off my finger, the keys in the other. I quietly opened the door and shouldered it closed. Kurt remained asleep and undisturbed. He felt so light. I carried him up the stairs, tossing the crown on the couch as I went to keep my grip on him.

I carried him into his room, gently setting him on the bed. I cautiously tugged the bowtie open, setting it on the nightstand. I unlaced his boots, setting them in the closet in their correct space. I smiled to myself.

Heh, I know how he keeps his shoes, he thought triumphantly. He stirred a little. "Shh, hush." I rubbed his forehead again until he settled. God, he looked so cute. I gently lifted him up, taking the coat from his shoulders and checking to see if he was wearing an undershirt. Once I saw that he was I began to undo the buttons on his shirt, trying to make sure he slept comfortably. I left his shirt open, undoing the cuffs so he could move.

He rolled on his side, squeezing the pillow beside him and nuzzling his face in it. I pulled the covers over him, tucking them around him and brushing his hair back from his face. I stood there for a moment, just looking at him. He was the strongest, bravest, most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. I bent down and kissed his cheek. "Sweet dreams, Kurt," I whispered, taking a moment to smooth his hair and touch his cheek.

I walked out, cautiously closing the door and tip toeing down stairs. I jumped at least a foot when I saw Mr. Hummel standing in front of the couch, putting him almost directly beside me.

"Mr. Hummel!" I exclaimed, heart hammering.

"Blaine," he nodded. He glanced at the stairs. "Where's Kurt?"

"He fell asleep on our way home," I explained. "I took him upstairs and got him settled. He's sleeping now." I swallowed hard, knowing he thought something had happened between us. "Mr. Hummel, I-"

"I trust you," he assured, still eyeing him in that dangerous protective father manner. I swallowed hard. He frowned and looked down at the couch, plucking the crown from the cushion. I paled, fear swelling my throat. I couldn't speak, I simply looked at him. "What is this?" God, he's going to find out anyway.

"Kurt, um…" I began. "He, he won-"

"Prom King?" Mr. Hummel chuckled. He looked at the cheap jewelry. "Kinda girly for…" He stopped, smile fading. He looked at me expectantly.

"He won Prom Queen, Mr. Hummel," I mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"It…was a stupid joke," I spat, disgusted. I finally chanced a look at him, and I wish I hadn't. His face was beet red, his eyes bulging, hands clenched.

"He's only been back for two weeks," he said through gritted teeth. "Two weeks, and then this happens." He threw the tiara back on the couch. "What'd he do?"

I took a deep breath. "He ran out of the gym. I mean, I followed him to make sure he was alright, let him talk it through while he cried a little. I offered to take him home, but he didn't want to satisfy them by running. So he went back inside and got coroneted. He walked right up to that microphone and said," I chuckled a little. "He said 'Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton.'" Mr. Hummel cracked a smile.

"Who won King?" He asked. I looked away again. There was a long pause.

"David," I finally said. Anger surged through the older man again.

"Damn it," he spat. "He didn't have to dance with him, did he?"

"No," I assured. "No, he wouldn't. So I did." He nodded, staring at his shoes.

"Thank you for being there for him," he said. "He really does need someone like you.

"It's no problem," I said. He nodded.

"You can stay here," he said, gesturing toward the couch. "It's past curfew, wouldn't want you to get in trouble. Will your parents mind?"

"No," I scoffed. "Thank you, Mr. Hummel." I couldn't help but smile.

I woke up in my bed. I frowned, wondering if tonight had just been a dream. But no. I was still in my shirt and my kilt. I sat up and looked around, taking the dress shirt off completely and shimmying out of the kilt and leggings. Blaine must have brought me up here. I smiled to myself. God, he was amazing. I got up, glancing at my clock. 4 a.m. I took my rove off the back of my door, slipping it on in case Carole –or anyone else- was up.

I went slowly down the stairs, hating myself for not telling Blaine goodnight. Someone stirred on the couch and I jumped, startled. I half expected to see Finn there, coming in late after doing God knows what with Quinn. I shuddered a little, but had no time to. I realized just who was sleeping on my couch, in my house…oh lord. I gasped almost silently.

His curls were scattered over the pillowcase, free from their gelled prison for once. The blanket was down around his waist and his…oh lord, he was shirtless.

I leaned up on the balls of my feet, trying to get a better look at him without moving. I couldn't move if I wanted to. I watched him adjust in his sleep, watched the muscles in his back ripple and swerve.

"Oh wow…" I squeaked. I watched his deep, olive-toned skin move up and down as he breathed. He looked warm and…and hot enough to bake cookies on.

I wondered if I should say something, if I was brave enough to go kiss his cheek and tell him goodnight, like I wanted to. I wasn't.

I scurried around the couch and into the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water before edging back toward the couch, just looking at him. His face was calm and peaceful, his pink lips striking against the rest of his skin. He breathed slowly, a soft snore coming from his nose.

I wanted to touch him so badly. To gently caress his shoulder, brush his lips or feel his curls. Gingerly, I set the glass on the table behind me, slowly reaching down to run my fingers through his hair, letting the curls snake and slide through my fingers. I brushed them away from his eyes, getting a fuller view of his face. I felt myself becoming braver, touching his face as well as his hair, watching him sleep. He groaned softly and I jumped away. He sat up on his elbow, looking around, squinting.

I just stood there, stock still, feeling as if I'd been caught doing something wrong. He looked up at me and smiled that million dollar grin of his, looking sleepy.

"Hey," he whispered. I blushed, still embarrassed.

"Hi," I squeaked. I hated that. He rolled on his side to look up at me. I stopped breathing. I looked at his chest, his chiseled, spectacular chest. A sparse trail of hair led up his stomach, not even close to being anything but, well, absolutely delicious. "Oh…" I breathed only loud enough for me to hear.

He blushed, giving an embarrassed smile to the cushions. "I'll, I'll, um…" He reached down beside the couch, grabbing his shirt and moving to put it on. I grabbed his hand, not acting fully on my own accord. He looked at me, surprised.

"Don't you dare," I said softly. He dropped it, still looking at me. He grabbed my hand, my hand that fit so perfectly in mine. He guided me around the couch to him, pulling me on top of him. He kissed me deeply, only a few layers of clothing keeping my chest from touching his. He held my face, sliding his tongue in my mouth. I hummed a moan against his lips. He smiled, running his hands down my back. I shivered.

"Kurt," he whispered. "What are you wearing under this?" He asked, squeezing the satin of my robe. I swallowed hard.

"Practically nothing," I breathed. I felt his heart pound a little harder. His hands eased inside, touching the thin cotton of my undershirt. I always hated the fabric of generic "wife beaters," and these look a lot better too. And now, feeling Blaine's hands on my back I liked them all that much more. Blaine delved around my waist, his gentle, careful hands going all the way up to my shoulders. My robe came open from his touches, leaving me almost bare against him.

I gasped with him, feeling my body against his. I was in my underwear, after all. My hands were on his face, stroking his cheeks as I kissed him. His breath stuttered, hands pausing on my back. He was shaking a little.

"What's wrong?" I asked. His hand slowly snaked down to my thigh. I inhaled sharply, eyes wide. He brought my leg beside his hip, running his hand up and down my thigh and onto my calf. He sat up a little, putting his face directly beside mine, giving him access to both of my legs. I whimpered softly in his ear.

"Kurt," he whispered huskily, "how are you this soft all over?" I couldn't breathe. He started kissing my neck. Now I really couldn't breathe.

"Do-do you kn-know how uncom-comfortable it is to-to-to wear leggings w-with hairy legs?" I gasped. I felt him smile against my skin.

"You shave your legs?" I blushed furiously.

"When the occasion calls for it," I whispered. He chuckled. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," he breathed, his lips brushing against my earlobe. I shivered. "That's so, so you. And that's always a good thing."

His hands trailed up and down my legs and my back, causing me to collapse against him, breathing in his smell. I tentatively brushed my lips against his collarbone, wanting to kiss him, but unsure if I should. "Go ahead," he whispered, his fingers brushing my hair. He looked so amazing right now, and he'd done so much for me tonight…and God I wanted to know what he tasted like.

I started kissing his chest, feeling his fingers tense on my legs and going lax in seconds. I shrugged out of my robe, not caring about how little I had on, just ready to keep touching him. I kissed his clavicle and his neck, paying special attention to his Adam's apple, which he appreciated. "Blaine, you, you taste amazing," I whispered. He blushed.

"You aren't so bad yourself," he stuttered. My fingertips gently brushed his sides, making him gasp, and then giggle.

"Stop it," he laughed. "That tickles!" I paused, laughing quietly with him.

"What? This?" I challenged, tickling him again, hoping he'd stay quiet. He tried to wriggle away from me, falling back and laughing into the pillow beside him. I was grinning, stunned by how cute he was. Suddenly, he grabbed my knee, squeezing, knowing it tickled. I yelped a laugh, falling into the pillow to stifle any more.

Then we were rolling and laughing, not knowing where we were, trying to be near silent, tickling each other in some sort of fight.

Somehow, when we stopped we were on the other side of the couch with him on top of me, still giggling. We looked at each other for a beat, larks dying to silence.

The way he was looking at me…such tenderness, such care, just as he'd looked when we were in that hallway. He wanted me.

"I'm here," I whispered, touching his cheek, heart thundering. "Take me."

Oh, how I wanted to oblige him. Imagining the feel of his silky skin touching me everywhere just…it, it took my breath away. Hell, I was struggling with simply looking at him now. That thin cotton shirt and those briefs on his flawless skin, pink lips plumped from kissing, I-!

I couldn't do it. He was right here, ripe for the picking and I couldn't do it. Not here, not on this couch, in secret, having to be silent and careful. His first time shouldn't be rushed. And he deserved a lot more romance than what I could offer him right now. No, no absolutely not.

"Kurt, darling, I can't," I breathed. He wilted, the hurt washing over his face, hurting my heart.

"Why, why not?" He asked, looking hurt. Oh, his ridiculous insecurities. He looked so innocent, so vulnerable right now.

"Kurt," I held his face, kissing his cheek, "don't think I don't want to, baby, because that's not it at all." He wasn't looking at me. I leaned down and kissed him, holding his face between my hands. "It wouldn't be right. Not here. It'll be rushed and this…this should be special, baby. I wouldn't feel right if we did this tonight, especially tonight. After everything that's happened I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you." He but his lower lip.

"You're right," he agreed, swallowing. "I mean, we haven't even said I love you, yet." I blanched, disbelieving he'd said that.

I was going to tell him at some point tonight, maybe when I got the nerve to finally dance with him. Maybe when the Prom Royalty was dancing and the attention was on them. But then, then he was crowned as half of the Royalty and all the attention was on us. I couldn't, then. I…I was scared enough.

I laughed nervously. "I, uh, I was actually going to say it when we were dancing," I said, cheeks pink. "But, then, um…" He pressed his fingers to my lips, his eyes teary and serious.

"Blaine Anderson, don't you say this unless you mean it," he hissed, his voice as intense and lined with vulnerability as his expression. God, he'd been hurt too much. I held his face steady, looking directly into those crystal basins that some called his eyes, never blinking.

"I love you, Kurt Hummel," I said softly. A tear slipped to his cheek. No, no more crying tonight. I kissed it away. "Shh, shh," I soothed, pressing my lips to his.

"You, you mean it?" He breathed. I squeezed him close to me, my face beside his.

"OF course I mean it, I've always meant it."

"I love you too," he breathed. "I have since the moment I met you on those stairs." I smiled, touched.

We lied there for awhile, holding each other, kissing occasionally, mostly just looking at each other. When the sun started to peek through windows I spoke.

"You should get back to bed. I don't think your dad would appreciate it if he found us like this. I mean, since the last time…" We both smiled, blushing. He nodded, pulling his robe back on and draping it over himself. He kissed my forehead.

"Good morning, Blaine," he whispered. I smiled, watching him go as I pulled my T-shirt back on.

"Good morning, Kurt."

I loved him so much. And despite any fear I had, I wasn't afraid to admit it.