(I don't know if I should mention this or let you figure it out for yourself, but I've tried to write the lake as a device/metaphor for their relationship; the fears, the exploration, the trust...
I've never been to Louisiana, but I tried doing some research to try and get it at least a little bit accurate!)

It was the height of the Louisianan summer; the late evening sun peeked optimistically through the leaves of a Cypress tree, overlooking the wide, flat expanse of the lake. Blaine Anderson's aunt had inherited the land from her father, whose ancestors had owned the multiple sugarcane and cotton plantations which etched the landscape and stretched for miles, but never permeated the cool, still plane of the family lake, situated half a mile from any road or form of civilization. Blaine would be sent there for summer, to play with his cousins and the farm hands whom had grown fond of, and had often looked forward to, the pure and energetic presence of a young soul amongst the dry heat, and temporarily abolished the lingering sense of tragically elapsed childhood that hung over the fifteen acre establishment like a thick, heavy blanket.

The sun bleached grass prickled beneath Kurt Hummel's feet, the soft arch winced at the sensation, so accustomed to the smooth, supportive casing of his new season Cesare Paciottis. Kurt stood consciously beside the tree, clutching his elbows and shifting from one foot to the other, whilst Blaine stood waist deep in the rippling lake, his broad chest laced with beads of water from his daring leap from the rope swing. He laughed, opening his arms, beckoning his boyfriend to him.

"Come on, Kurt, there's nothing to be afraid of."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "I'm not afraid."

"Then what's taking you so long?" he swam back, further into the deep, "Get in here, you big dummy, the water's so great."

It was an evening to dream of. The insufferably blistering heat of the Southern afternoon had calmed to a windless, cloudless dusk, permeated with the scent of damp reeds, rapeseed and parched earth. The sky; splashed generously with luscious amethyst, amber, gold, opal, garnet, ruby, sapphire, rose and topaz; was a canvas, lovingly brushed with streaks of the day that had passed.

Blaine and Kurt, having driven to Baton Rouge for the day, had feasted on beignets and slow roasted coffee. Kurt's stomach, still brimmed with the warm, sweet taste of recipes passed through generations of Louisianan café owners, felt decidedly plump. He twisted his clenched fingers around his shirt hem, glancing cautiously at Blaine's own body, now floating upon the water's surface. His arms streamed and parted the water, creating shallow waves, slowly lapping over his abdomen and bare chest. Kurt gulped. He pulled off his jeans to fold them over a low branch.

Blaine arched his neck to wet his hair, his wrists twisting and turning to keep afloat, and stared up at the open sky. There was something so liberating about the freedom that a view of the heavens can offer to a human being, so small and fragile by comparison to the vast and powerful force of the fates. Had he been alone, perhaps Blaine would have felt intimidated, perhaps a little scared; overwhelmed. But he wasn't alone, he had Kurt.

He thanked the fates.

Kurt watched Blaine's eyes open slowly from his reverie, before swimming closer to the bank where Kurt remained, his hands still achingly clasping his shirt. Blaine looked him in the eye, cocked his head, his lips curved, silently questioning him.

"I'm nervous." Kurt murmured.

"You have nothing to be nervous about."

"That's easy for you to say, you look like Adonis."

Blaine barked a laugh and climbed up the slippery slope of the banking, his underwear clad tightly against him; Kurt averted his eyes bashfully.
Blaine stopped a few inches from him. He lifted a hand and gently pulled Kurt's face to his own, pressing a short, sweet kiss to his lips.

"Are you comfortable around me?"

"Of course I am."

Blaine's gaze flickered from the green flecks in his boyfriend's eyes down to his soft, pink and parted lips. "The water is so warm," He pressed his lips against the hollow of Kurt's throat, emitting a gentle, shaky sigh from the other boy's mouth as he tilted his head back. "Trust me, Kurt."

Kurt couldn't avert his eyes or his mind from the boy in front of him, now kissing his jaw, his warm, broad hand pressed against his lower back. Kurt nodded hastily, pulling back a little from the embrace. Blaine stood back and watched as Kurt slowly pulled his shirt over his head, seizing it between his fingers once more as he lowered his arms.

Blaine smiled supportively, extending a hand and slowly prying the cotton from his boyfriend's clutches. He turned and folded it upon the branch that Kurt's jeans hung from.

"See, I told you there was nothing to worry about." Blaine smiled.

Kurt's blush spread across his chest, his skin flush with a cherry hue that Blaine found both incredibly endearing and unashamedly alluring. He extended a hand once more, trying his best not to linger too long on his boyfriend's body, which had never graced his sights until now, under the amber glow of the setting sun. Kurt took it gratefully, his posture visually relaxing as soon as the warm, soft and safe embrace of his boyfriend's fingers wrapped gratefully around his own. Blaine pressed a line of chaste kisses along Kurt's knuckles before slowly releasing his hold.

He turned and stepped back into the water, wading slowly, further into the bottomless lake, his feet tangling amongst the short reeds and mosses that thrived from the murky depths. Kurt watched the broad, fan shaped expanse of his boyfriend's shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist, now transcending below the water's surface, veiling the two thumbprint shaped dimples on his lower back. He gulped again.

Kurt lingered reluctantly by the water side, dipping his foot in warily in expectation of the biting, bitter chill of the last lake he'd been faced with; an eternity ago, back in Ohio, an icy lake, which he'd been thrown into the depths by Karofsky, and of course, his Neanderthal cohorts. He had mourned his Armani trench coat, but his dignity more so.

Blaine peered back over his shoulder at Kurt, a smile gracing his lips with a genuine and secure warmth that Kurt didn't think he'd ever get used to. Suddenly the water that lapped at his ankles didn't sting anymore; the fear and the nightmares dissolved; fell, unnoticed, like a dust mote sailing from of a stream of light. Blaine made it okay; he wasn't alone, he had Blaine. Fate had been kind to him.

Kurt's toes pressed lightly into the sandy banking below the first few inches of clear, warm water. He kept walking, further and further, deeper and deeper, until his feet almost couldn't reach the safety of the lake's murky floor, his legs straining for the support, but his heart fighting against the need for stability and the need to breathe. Blaine had swum further out, but had begun slowly sailing back to Kurt, whose arms were floundering in panicked circles, desperate to stay afloat.

Kurt heard Blaine's quiet, adoring laughter over the graceless splashing of his hands. He spun around to attempt to scowl at him, but he'd disappeared.

Kurt panicked, the huge expanse of the lake suddenly threatening, daunting, terrifying. He thrashed his legs and flapped his arms, attempting a frantic B-line towards the Cypress tree, towards the secure familiarity of dry land.

"Blaine! Blaine, this isn't funny!"

Kurt screamed as he felt something brush his thigh, kicking furiously. He spun in a circle chaotically, before he was met with the dripping wet face of his boyfriend, with a big stupid grin on his face, who soon dived back under the surface. Before Kurt had the chance to maul his boyfriend, strong hands had wrapped around his waist, sliding firmly up his sides, around his body, before gripping beneath his arms and pulling him backwards towards the shore. Kurt couldn't decide whether to laugh at the playful, sturdy yet tickling grip Blaine had on him, or injure him severely for attempting such a horrifying practical joke.

Blaine stopped swimming before reaching the banking, his arms pulling Kurt backwards, closer to his chest, and leant into his ear. His feet didn't quite reach the lake floor, and were still wavering against the natural force of the gloomy deep.

"Do you still trust me, Kurt?" he pressed his lips to the shell of his ear. The water had chilled them, and Kurt shivered beneath their touch.

"Y-yes," he stuttered. The hands that trailed over his body held him steady, safe. "Yes, Blaine."

He felt Blaine smile against his ear, his quiet laughter tickling.

"I was so scared." Kurt sighed, resting a hand over Blaine's, splayed broadly, warmly, across his chest.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He said, stupidly; he forgave Blaine for everything. Who couldn't?

"We don't have to stray too deep so soon." Blaine said, his fingertips fell closely over Kurt's heart.

"I-I know." Kurt said. "…But I want to."

The hand on Kurt's chest pressed lightly, a silent assurance; the arm that wrapped around his waist pulled him closer. Blaine pressed a series of slow kisses across the back of Kurt's neck and sighed against his hair.

His legs had grown tired from keeping them both afloat, but Blaine didn't care. He didn't want to move. He would stay here until he was old and wrinkled, clutching this boy to his chest forever… had Kurt's obscenely diligent skin care routine permitted it. He smiled against the alabaster spans of his boyfriend's shoulders, pressing more and more doting kisses across the scars from the lockers, the blue veins that coursed with such conviction beneath his translucent skin, and the few sun kissed freckles that fought against the otherwise perfect stretch of silk that covered him.

No, Kurt was perfect, scars, veins, freckles and all. He always had been, always would be.

"I love you, Kurt."

"I love you, too."