I own nothing. Okay, so the urge to write this kind of fic came to me during my 18th and 19th Century Novel class. So it is Victorian!Klaine, set in the 1830s. I know that a lot of it (language etc.) is probably inaccurate, but I really wanted to write this so just go with it lol. The title comes from the poem by Matthew Arnold, of the same title and there is an extract of it below. This is around 30,000 words long and was supposed to be a longish one shot, but it got away from me and plot happened and yes.


Alas! is even love too weak
To unlock the heart, and let it speak?
Are even lovers powerless to reveal
To one another what indeed they feel?
I knew the mass of men conceal'd
Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd
They would by other men be met
With blank indifference, or with blame reproved;
I knew they lived and moved
Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest
Of men, and alien to themselves—and yet
The same heart beats in every human breast!
—The Buried Life, by Matthew Arnold.

The Buried Life.

Up until a point, Blaine Anderson had had very little contact with others of his age. Mr. Frederick Anderson, Blaine's father, had, of late, insisted upon the visits of daughters of neighbours and family friends to the Anderson Manor. Blaine would be of age soon and was expected to marry. Little interest was shown on Blaine's part, however, in the handsome girls that came so often and even less interest was shown in the idea of marriage.

His father chided him for it. "Each girl prettier than the last, yet still you do not turn your head," he would say. "What am I to do with you, Blaine? You are breaking your mother's heart."

It did not worry him, for his mother's heart was perfectly in tact and so, Blaine would brush away his father's words and promise to try harder when the next pretty girl paid a visit, but Blaine was a romantic. He read novels with stories of love and dreamt of finding a kindred spirit. He would never tell it to his father, but Blaine had hopes to marry for love and none of the beautiful girls he had been forced to converse with seemed to hold any possibility of love for him.

A noticeable change came about when the long deceased governess of Frederick Anderson's husband died, leaving their son an orphan. Frederick, who owed much to Mrs Hummel, the mother figure of his childhood, took the boy in to his own home and despite the prominent difference of caste, regarded him almost as a son of his own.

On the day of the boy's arrival, Blaine's father had Blaine promise to be a friend to the boy. They were of similar age and the boy was grieving at the loss of his last living relative. Blaine assured his father he would and then he went about his own business. His father left in a carriage to meet the boy and instructed that Blaine be dressed to greet them at the door when they returned.

Blaine did some reading and played a couple of tunes on the piano in the music room and by then it was almost time for his father's return. Blaine retired to the parlour and was met with a disapproving glare from the maid, Miss Pillsbury. Blaine gave her a dazzling smile and she rolled her big, round eyes and left the parlour immediately. Blaine sat with his own thoughts for quite a while and then he heard the butler, Schuester, opening the door.

Blaine stood and crept out to the entrance hall, waiting to greet his father and the newest addition to the household, just as he had been instructed. His father stepped inside and following him was a young man of slim stature. His shoulders were broad and his posture was stiff, but his eyes — oh, what eyes! — were big and sad and a shade of blue which matched one of Blaine's finer coats. His hair sat atop his head in a stylish sweep backwards. It was the colour of roasting chestnuts and his skin, the colour of virgin snow. His cheeks had just a hint of pink, the contrast like strawberries and cream. So, too, were the full lips like strawberries, swollen and plump and had he not known better, Blaine would have thought the boy had been kissed a thousand times in the brisk, winter cold.

"Blaine," Blaine's father said, but Blaine kept his eyes on the boy. "Say hello to Kurt."

Blaine smiled as he was so accustomed to doing and then he gave a polite nod of his head. "Welcome, Kurt," he said, simply. "I hope you'll be happy here."

The boy, Kurt, smiled then and it was warm and authentic. "I rather think," he said in a melodic voice, and his eyes were wide and had a sparkle to them, "that I will."


Kurt Hummel had lost all the things a boy his age should not have lost. At eight years, he was robbed of his mother, a kind woman with big, blue eyes and an even bigger heart. She taught him many things; to read, to write, to appreciate poetry and literature and, his favourite, to play the piano.

Kurt's mother, Elizabeth, had been teaching her entire life. Her mother before her had been a governess and after the death of Kurt's grandfather so early on in their marriage, Kurt's grandmother had returned to the Anderson family with her daughter — Kurt's mother — to continue tending to the only son, Frederick Anderson. Following the death of her mother, Elizabeth, at only nineteen years, took on the role of the young master Anderson's governess and despite only being eleven years apart in age, they grew to love one another like mother and son.

Frederick Anderson's real mother had died in childbirth and his father had been far too busy to show him any kind of attention, and so, Frederick, an only child, had never known the love and affection shown between a parent and a child. It broke his heart when Elizabeth met and fell in love with the farmer who delivered the vegetables to the Anderson Manor. He was called Burt Hummel, a kind and loving gentleman of whom Frederick was very fond, but when Mr. Hummel requested Elizabeth's hand in marriage, and she eagerly accepted, Frederick felt betrayed and alone. He was at the age of fourteen when it occurred and thus likely too old for a governess, yet Frederick craved the love he had been so deprived and despite his happiness for his governess' joy, he still could not help the twinge of upset in his heart, although he tried with every ounce of his might to push it away.

Kurt had heard the story of the boy to whom his mother had taken such a shine countless times and often he felt slight pangs of jealousy, although he knew his mother loved him so. And so when Elizabeth Hummel lost her life, so too did young Kurt lose a mother, his dearest and best friend. From then on, Kurt and his father had been about as close as any son and father could be. The loss of his father to heart failure at the age of sixteen just about broke the boy's heart and he was not quite as sure as he wished that he was strong enough to put the pieces back together again.

What was to become of him now? He was so sure that he would be sent to a workhouse somewhere, a place where he could no longer practice his music or enjoy the company of a good novel. One could only imagine the surprise Kurt was struck with when a letter from one Frederick Anderson arrived addressed to him one morning when Kurt had been watching the falling snow, so sure that all was lost.

Dear Kurt, the letter had said. It was of my deepest regret to learn of the death of your father a fortnight ago. I liked him well, he was always so kind to me as a child and I know he made your mother very happy. May they both rest quite peacefully. It occurred to me while thinking of days of old in my drawing room that your parents were all the family you had in the world and I got to wondering just what was to become of you, a young man with the entire world at his feet.

I had a letter from your father, a year or so ago, in which he recited to me all the things he was so proud of about his son. You're bright, he said, you speak French and play instruments and like to read. He wanted so much for you and I wonder now if I am at liberty to give to you.

And so, if it is quite suitable, I am inviting you to live with us here. I've talked it over with my wife and she knows how much of an influence your motherand indeed, your grandmother before her had in my growing. I have a son, I think you know, and you are of similar age. He enjoys the same recreations, I think and I imagine you getting on quite a treat.

Please do not look upon my offer as pity, or anything of the sort, Kurt. Your mother was, simply put, like my own mother and I want to repay her in ways I never could. You are her flesh and blood, the apple of her eye, she said, and this is something I feel quite strongly about. Please consider this invitation and contact me when you have the time.

Again, I am deeply sorry and send my condolences and hope to hear from you soon. Take care, Kurt.

Yours truly,

F. Anderson.

Kurt had read the letter several times and had experienced an array of emotions. First came anger and then tears and then deep gratitude and it was in the fit of this that Kurt sat and wrote a letter in return, thanking Mr. Anderson for his most generous offer and accepting it, both graciously and gratefully. A month later, Kurt was in a carriage leaving the place he had spent his entire childhood, but taking the memories with him, as they were locked up quite securely in the cavern of his shattered heart.

Kurt had met Mr. Anderson once when he had been much younger. He looked just as Kurt remembered and it filled Kurt with a sort of warmth being in the man's presence, for his own parents had spoken so highly of Anderson that, well, it felt much like being reunited with a long lost friend.

Now, standing in the entry hall of the Anderson home, Kurt was apprehensive. It was dark and formal and the butler by the door had reminded him that he did not belong in a place of such wealth, but then Mr. Anderson had stepped out of the way to reveal his son and Kurt smiled for the first time since before the death of his father.

Blaine Anderson was a small man. He had wide shoulders, strong arms and a broad chest, which fell down into a waist so tiny that it looked so like the result of a lady's corset. His dark, curling hair shone beneath the dim chandelier and his eyes were bright and brought to Kurt's mind an image of warm honey on a summer's day. And then Blaine smiled and welcomed him and Kurt smiled back and he thought that, perhaps, this would not be quite so bad as he had anticipated.


Friends, Blaine had to remind himself every night before he closed his eyes and every morning, right after he opened them, were all that he and Kurt were and were ever to be. Two weeks the orphaned boy had been residing there at the Anderson home and he and Blaine had become fast friends. They liked the same books and read the same poetry and both, much to Blaine's surprise and utter delight, enjoyed the feel of the ivory keys of a piano beneath their fingertips.

Kurt was a breath of fresh air inside the dreary, old halls of the Anderson Manor and he made it so that Blaine felt not so alone any more. But there was something more, something that Blaine Anderson could not quite fathom no matter how often he tried to dissect the pieces and make sense of it. He had developed feelings of the not-so-platonic nature for his new found friend and he wanted so very desperately to act on them, but was well aware of both the consequences and sins that such things involved.

Yet so often Blaine imagined what it might be like to kiss his friend's sweet lips, to hold his hand as they walked in the rose garden, to strip him of every morsel of clothing and kiss every last inch of the boy's smooth, alabaster skin. He felt close to the boy so often, but never quite close enough.

There were things he wanted that he surely could not have, and this, needless to say, was a thing to which Blaine Anderson, in all his years of living, was definitely not used.


Kurt hated himself. He hated himself for being a sinner and for having disgusting, unnatural thoughts. He hated the way his silly heart would soar to a fast paced beat so suddenly whenever he came in close contact with the son of the man who had taken him in when he had nowhere else to turn. He hated the way his skin tingled at the touch of Blaine's fingers as they played the smooth keys of the piano together. Most of all, Kurt hated that Blaine did not even seem to notice.

One breezy, March afternoon, Blaine knocked gently on Kurt's bedroom door. Kurt brushed his coat down in the mirror and then went to let his friend inside. Blaine gave him that beguiling smile that more often than not made Kurt think his heart was fit to burst from the confines of his chest, the protective cage of his ribs that surrounded it and kept it in place, suddenly weak and seeming breakable. Blaine came inside and sat on the edge of Kurt's bed, just as he always did.

"Could you hide me?" Blaine asked, only half joking.

"Hide you?" Kurt asked. "What ever from?"

"My father," Blaine groaned. "He has invited another girl to lunch in which I'll likely have no interest."

"No interest in the lunch?" Kurt asked, quietly.

Blaine waved a hand. "No interest in the girl, silly," he told Kurt, which Kurt noted, happily. "I'm always interested in lunch and well you know it."

Kurt smiled, just smiled.

"I wish I could think of a way to convince my father that I have no desire to marry," Blaine said, then.

"None at all?" Kurt asked, surprise on his face and in his eyes. Blaine shook his head. "Why not?"

"I want love, Kurt," Blaine told him, flinging himself backwards on the bed. "I want poetry and music and flowers and kisses. I don't want financial stability, or-or social security, or a good name."

"You'd prefer to have roses and a scandal attached to your name?" Kurt asked, with a smile as he went to sit at the end of his bed.

"If someone loves me and I them, and I am at the centre of scandal I am sure I could manage knowing I was happy."

Kurt allowed himself to consider the possibilities of such a statement, but brushed it off, for it would only hurt more in the long run.

"You could fall in love with her, you know," Kurt told him, a trifle melancholic.

"With?"

"The girl," Kurt clarified. "The one your father has invited to lunch."

"Oh," Blaine said, irritably. "I'm more likely to fall in love with the lunch," he joked. "Mrs Rose is quite the cook, isn't she?"

"Mm," Kurt agreed. "No hope for the girl then?" he enquired, as an afterthought.

Blaine twisted his head around and looked up into Kurt's waiting gaze. "Not a single hope in the entirety of the spinning world."


"I sing, you know," the girl, Miss Rachel, told Blaine as they sat together in the parlour. "I could sing for you right this instant should you require it."

"No need for that," he told her, tiredly, but politely, for he was trained in the art of courtesy.

"Nonsense, Blaine!" Blaine's father said, quickly. "Why don't you take Miss Berry up to your music room? Take Kurt, too."

It would have been quite the scandal if Blaine had taken the girl to a room alone. Blaine sighed and got to his feet. He heard his father clear his throat. Blaine turned and offered Rachel his arm. "Shall we?"

She grinned and looped her arm through his and he lead her up the stairs. She was undoubtedly beautiful, this girl. She had big, dark eyes and thick, chocolate coloured ringlets all around her face. Her dress was pretty and she was well spoken and perfectly polite. She was also difficult and overbearing, Blaine decided.

As they drew closer to the music room, the sound of a soft, singing voice was discernible as it drifted down the long, lonely halls. Blaine paused, but Rachel tugged him forward, which, Blaine thought, was most unlady like. They followed the sound of the sweet voice and the serene, piano tune and halted in the arch of the doorway to the music room.

There was Kurt, perched on the purple, velvet seat, long fingers gliding slowly over the smooth, white keys. His eyes were shut and his lips were parted and coming from them was a most beautiful singing voice, the most beautiful ever to grace Blaine's ear. Blaine, had he been anything less then a gentleman, would, without any doubt, have knocked Rachel right on the head with the nearest bust when she cleared her throat with exaggeration and made Kurt halt to a stop.

Kurt's eyes shot to an open state and the music jarred to a close. Silence filled the cool air, then and blue eyes met hazel eyes and then brown eyes and several glances passed between them before any dared to utter a single, solitary word.

It was Rachel, of course, who took it upon herself to speak first, "I was sure Blaine was the only son of Mr. and Mrs Anderson, besides the older, already married one, of course," she said, nose in the air. She referred, of course, to Blaine's older brother, Cooper, was happily married to a lady of a good family. They had a child together, a little girl, Jane, who Blaine had only met twice due to the long distance between their homes. "I had no knowledge of a musically inclined brother," Rachel said, eyebrow cocked.

"Good Heavens, Miss Rachel," Blaine said, irritably. "Kurt is not, by any definition, my brother."

"Oh?" Rachel said, curiosity plain on her face and indeed, in her voice. "Then who...?"

"My dearest friend," Blaine told her. "In fact, more than that." Blaine did not think it would do to expand on such a statement. He allowed it linger in the air, the air where the soft drifting piano music had minutes earlier been.

"Ah," Rachel said, finally smiling. "When I heard you singing on our way here, I thought you were a girl," she said. "Imagine that! A girl hidden in your music room, Blaine!"

"Shocking," Kurt muttered, under his breath.

Blaine shook his head. "I believe you desired a song before you left for home, Miss Rachel."

Kurt watched with just a raised eyebrow.

"Rachel Berry never passes up the opportunity to sing for an audience, sir," she said, with a bow of her head and a smile on her face.

Rachel curtsied briefly, then made her way forward. She sat brazenly down by Kurt's left shoulder. Kurt stood, kept his eyes on the girl a minute more, then went to stand a little ways away.

Rachel sang and her voice was exceptionally good, unquestionably so, but Blaine had eyes only for the other boy standing some feet away from him in that very room. They smiled and compliments were passed to Miss Rachel.

"You have a voice worth listening," Rachel said then, spinning to look a Kurt. "Perhaps a post as a chaunting lay would suit?"

"Such a shade of green does not become you," came Kurt's cold reply. "You have neither the complexion nor the bust size to pull such a garment off. Might I suggest beige?"

"Beige!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Beige or robin's egg blue," he decided. "Never such a shade of green."

She left the manor soon after that, dander well and truly up and Blaine was left as he wanted, with just he and Kurt alone.

"Your father has eyes," Kurt said, after a brief silence. "He can see you cannot be wed to that one."

"A man with no eyes would know the same, Kurt," Blaine said, smiling. "I doubt we'll see her a second time."

Kurt nodded. "If we do, God forbid," he said, "I hope to Heaven she does not wear green."

A chuckle escaped Blaine's mouth and Kurt's lips arched to a smile. They sat together and played a song, one without a name, but sometimes, all things of beauty did not require a name. Blaine, however, was sure that should any single thing that held in it an insurmountable quantity of beauty, it should, irrefutably, be, quite promptly, named 'Kurt'.


"What in God's name is the matter with Quinn Fabray?" Frederick Anderson asked of his son.

Kurt sat still in the window while Blaine, a frown on his face, was sprawled on Kurt's bed like a child in the fit of a tantrum. Mr. Anderson stood by the door, his arms folded across his chest, foot tapping impatiently in its galley.

"Honestly, father," Blaine enunciated with a sigh, "the girl would be a chore."

"Rachel Berry?" Mr. Anderson offered. "She sings quite well. You like to sing."

"I like to read tragedies, but that hardly means I want to live one," Blaine protested. "And if I were to marry the Berry girl, well, that's precisely what my life would be, father; a tragedy."

"You're proving to be very difficult, boy," Mr. Anderson told him.

"And I shall continue to be so until you understand my predicament," Blaine said, firmly.

Mr. Anderson's rigid posture slumped and he shook his head in disapproval. "Kurt, perhaps you can talk some sense into him," he said. "Goodness knows I have tried my best."

Kurt nodded once, noncommittally, and watched Mr. Anderson go, the door shutting tightly behind him.

"Well," Blaine said, sliding his body so that he could look at Kurt, "are you going to try to talk some sense into me?"

Kurt shook his head.

"Oh?" Blaine asked, eyebrows going upwards. "Not on the old man's side?"

"I am and always will be on your side and well you know it," Kurt snapped.

"Something bothers you?"

Kurt let out a long exhale. "Nothing quite so much as many things," he told Blaine. "Never mind. When does the next girl come?"

"Never, I should hope," Blaine said, shuddering. "Do tell me what irks you, Kurt."

Kurt wavered briefly, then folded his hands. "This ball..."

"Ah," Blaine said, knowingly. "You need say little more than that. I know the feeling."

"It is not quite the same thing, Blaine," Kurt apprised his friend. "You... Well, you belong there. You belong here. Riches and wealth are all you have ever known. I am a farmer's son, the son of a governess. I should be far from the walls of this house — and a ball! I'll be none less than filled with total surprise if I do not melt to the ground the moment I step a toe through the doors!"

"How foolish of you," Blaine said, sitting now. "You more than belong here, Kurt and I shan't attend any balls without you with me."

"That's kind of you to say, but—"

"There is no cause for any buts," Blaine told him. "It matters not what the likes of Rachel Berry thinks. I want you there, or here, should we decide not to attend, although I'm not at all sure my father will be in the favour of such a decision."

"Why?"

"Why?" Blaine repeated. "Well, I should think he believes I'll share a glance with a lovely maiden and fall desperately in love and propose marriage on the spot and live happil—"

"Why is it that you insist on my company?" Kurt corrected.

"Ah," Blaine said, cheeks tinting pink. "Well, you are a pivotal figure in my life now," he said. "I hardly think I would enjoy much of anything without you."

Kurt allowed himself to smile. "So, we go?"

Blaine let out a sigh, but cast a winsome smile to the other boy. "We go."


"You absolutely must wear this," Blaine insisted, holding a beautiful, blue, velvet coat for Kurt to look at. "It matches your eyes."

"Does it?" Kurt asked, significantly breathless.

Blaine gave an inclination of his head and rushed to stand behind Kurt. He opened the jacket and waited patiently until Kurt had shuffled to slip his arms into the silk-lined sleeves. Kurt shivered when Blaine placed a hand on each of his shoulders and helped to straighten the jacket on his frame. It fit like a glove.

"There," Blaine said, beaming behind Kurt. Kurt watched him through the mirror. "It looks better than I ever could have envisioned and I had envisioned quite a lovely picture."

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but words escaped him. In lieu, he eyed his own reflection. The jacket truly was remarkable. It was deep blue in colour and made from the softest velvet Kurt had ever touched. It was a snug fit and hugged the soft curves of his hips in quite a flattering manner. Six black buttons came down the front and Kurt held his breath as Blaine's nimble fingers slid around his body to slip them closed.

"What will you wear?" Kurt asked of his friend.

Blaine's smile fell considerably and he dropped his hands, much to Kurt's utter chagrin. "I thought I'd ask your assistance," Blaine said. "You've seen my jackets."

"The red one," Kurt said, quickly. "Wear the silk brocade vest beneath."

Blaine's smile returned and so, too, did his hands, suddenly back on Kurt's shoulders. "What ever would I do without you?"

His fingers pressed gently against Kurt's shoulders and he disappeared into the room which held his clothing. Kurt sighed to himself, slumping down on the bed, fingers running absently over the soft material of the blue jacket. Blaine would never feel the things for Kurt which Kurt felt for him and often Kurt felt painful twinges in his heart as a result.

It was unacceptable, to feel the things he felt, but it was not as if he had any control at all over the wants of his heart. He had tried, if unhappily, to discard of such feelings, but they simply refused to leave him. Kurt knew in his heart that such things were morally wrong, that to lie with another man was a sin that assured one an eternity of pain in only the fieriest pits of Hell. Often times Kurt felt sick to his stomach with the fact that he had such sinful thoughts and feelings, but the moment Blaine came near, every and all inhibitions had soon disappeared entirely and all Kurt could do was feel the inevitable love and admiration for the boy whom he called his best friend in the world.

It was both an affliction and a staggering relief that Kurt could say that he had never once acted on any of such yearnings. The tightening in the front of his trousers went unattended, no matter the urge Kurt felt to simply touch. He wasn't, however, sure that, on the off chance that Blaine would ever want to be close to him in such a fashion, he would have such control and authority over the things which he would allow occur and that frightened him to his very core.


Kurt Hummel was, by far, the most handsome creature at the entire ball and one could not help but take note of the blushing ladies casting shy (and some not so shy) glances in his direction. Blaine had never seen such beauty and had never expected to on another fellow.

The jacket brought out all of Kurt's best attributes. It fit his slim figure precisely and showed the strong muscles in his arms, muscles which came only from hard, well done work, which was a thing Kurt had been doing his entire life. The pretty blue of the jacket accentuated the prettier blue of his eyes and his wan skin seemed almost translucent, but never sickly so. A flattering pink tinted his high, cheek bones and coloured his plump lips in a way that had Blaine blushing like a school girl in the presence of a wealthy Lord.

Blaine's eyes hardly left Kurt the entire evening, despite his father's pleas that he dance with the girls and make an endeavour to hold riveting conversations, or at least something which resembled such things. From over the lace and silk clad shoulders of the handsome girls, Kurt watched his friend standing nearest the door, his lips down turned, stare blank and unreadable.

The music ended and the couples stopped their dance, but held on in anticipation of another tune, but Blaine excused himself with a polite bow and went to join Kurt in his loneliness.

"Blaine," Frederick Anderson hissed, racing to his side. "Dance with another. So many have their eyes on you."

"I'm tired, father," Blaine said, with an exaggerated sigh. "I want to talk with Kurt."

"Do urge him to dance, Blaine," his father said. "I've been paying notice. As many have their eyes on him as they do you."

Blaine ignored the strange pang of jealousy attacking at his insides and nodded absently, before continuing his way across the ballroom to speak with Kurt.

"I'm all danced out, I'm afraid," Blaine told him with a small smile.

"It does not look as if the ladies are willing to let you go just yet," Kurt commented, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Well, I am quite done with them," Blaine replied. "No one catches your eye?" he asked, heart beat increasing significantly.

"Perhaps one," Kurt muttered. "But enough of that. I've spotted the delightful Miss Berry in robin's egg blue."

"She paid heed to your advice then," Blaine said, shoving away the urge to enquire after the 'perhaps one' which Kurt had mentioned.

"And well she should," Kurt told him. "Will you dance with her if she requests it?"

"Will you?"

"Me!" Kurt exclaimed.

"It's not such a surprising thing, you know," Blaine said. "The jacket flatters you."

"Perhaps I flatter the jacket."

"I don't doubt that," Blaine dared to say. "Do you think father would mind terribly if you and I slipped quietly out the back entrance and took a carriage home?"

"I could feign illness," Kurt pointed out.

Blaine reacted with a shake of his head. "You look about as far from ill as one can look," he told Kurt and did not manage to miss the slight hue of red colouring the other boy's cheeks at his word.

"Perhaps a minute or two in the company of Miss Berry might put an end to such a thing."

Blaine turned to find the girl headed in their direction, a broad grin lighting up her face. He let out a distressed sigh and turned a glare towards Kurt when he giggled at his expense.

"Blaine, Kurt," Miss Rachel said, with a curtsy. She looked to Blaine. "Your father said you had saved me a dance."

"I've done nothing of the sort," Blaine told her, all gentlemanly traits gone to the ashes. "I'm sorry, Miss Rachel, I'm far too exhausted and want to spend some time with Kurt."

Rachel's eyes flashed once. She looked from Blaine to Kurt and back again, before resting her gaze on Blaine.

"One little dance," she said, smiling slowly. "I want to ask something."

Blaine resisted all urges to roll his eyes and looked at Kurt, who shrugged. He looked again to Rachel and sighed. "Very well," he said. "But just the one."

Rachel nodded enthusiastically and Blaine offered her his hand. He looked back to Kurt. "I'll just be a moment. Don't move from here, I wish to find you afterwards." Kurt nodded in response and Blaine felt himself being pulled away by the petite girl.

Blaine took her in the circle of his arms once they had graced the dance floor. Rachel smiled up at him as they began to dance. She had a gleam in her dark eye and a secret in her smile.

"If a wind blows your face will be stuck like that," Blaine told her.

She chuckled. "You don't wish to marry, do you, Blaine Anderson?"

"That's quite the understatement, Miss Rachel."

"You have shown less than no interest in any of the ladies your father has forced upon your meeting?"

"You're a clever girl," Blaine commented.

"I am a lady," she corrected. "And what of Kurt?" she asked, which caused Blaine's body to go still from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. "Has he any desire to wed?"

Blaine relaxed some. "I should say I never enquired."

"Mm," Rachel hummed. "He's a good friend to you, isn't he?"

Blaine simply nodded, unsure of just where she was going with this.

"You are fond of much of the same things," she said and now it was not in the form of a question. "Such a shame he is not a girl, a suitable candidate for your hand."

"...Miss Rachel—"

"I'm right, aren't I?" she asked, grin broadening. "You are in love with him!" She poked him gently in the shoulder.

Blaine felt the panic rising sickeningly inside of him. Had he been so obvious? He opened his mouth to say something — anything, but words simply would not come.

"You do not need to explain," Rachel said. "But I would like it if you admitted it to me."

Blaine shook his head. "What a ridicu—"

"I know already, Blaine," she told him with a laugh. "I don't hate you for it. I won't tell you that you'll burn in Hell."

"Oh?" Blaine uttered.

"Can we take a walk in the gardens?" she asked. "I have a tale I think you could do with hearing."

Blaine worried on his bottom lips. He glanced to Kurt who was watching them with intent.

"Oh, alright," he said, for what if Rachel meant to blackmail him? "Just a short walk."

"Very well," she said and turned her body. She looped an arm through Blaine's and took him to the gardens.

It was a beautiful night with not a cloud in sight. The stars shone brightly in the cobalt sky and cast shadows all across the rose bushes and lilac trees. Miss Rachel led him down the path until they came to a small, stone seat. They sat, like lovers, but never further from such.

"I have never breathed a word of this to another living soul," Rachel told him, in an urgent whisper.

"Then why, pray tell, would you choose to tell me?"

"Hush up and listen, Blaine!"

Blaine gave a nod.

"You cannot tell anyone," she went on. "I mean it, Blaine Anderson, you cannot tell a soul!"

"I won't," Blaine promised. "I am sure you have enough information to blackmail me into uttering not a word."

"I hope I don't have to."

"You don't," he affirmed.

"Good," Rachel said, satisfied. "Because I am trying to aid you in this trying time, but should you step one foot out of place, Blaine Anderson, I will do something I do not want to do."

"I have said I will keep it," Blaine told her. She was trying his patience.

"Good," she said again. "Sometimes I go up north with my father. He has been going there for quite some time, since before my mother's death and recently, he took me with him. Blaine, this is important and you have said you would keep my secret, but I must again stress that you keep it close to your heart."

"Rachel," Blaine said, firmly. "I assure you I will keep your secret. You have my word."

Rachel nodded, shut her eyes then opened them wide.

"My father has been seeing someone." She paused. "In a romantic sense."

Blaine raised a single brow. He wasn't sure what the big secret was, unless Mr. Berry was having relations with a married woman.

"You don't understand, do you?" Rachel asked, urgently. "He has been seeing another man."

Blaine's eyes went wide and his heart seemed to still in his chest and his skin turned cold as if ice had come in very close contact with it.

"It doesn't upset me, you know," she went on. "It did at first — of course I did, but I have met him. This man. His name is Leroy. He is Jewish."

Blaine gaped.

"He's very lovely," Rachel said, with a smile. "He loves to sing. They are very much in love and I cannot see how love can be a sin in any form. Which is why I am forwarding this to you. I see it, you know. I saw it that first day, in your music room. I saw your eyes as he sang and played. I saw the way you lit up like a thousand suns."

Blaine did not dare speak for fear of...something.

"I know that society is quite dreadful at the best of times and likely you can never tell of your feelings and the wants of your heart, but don't you want to love as you wish? Can you honestly say you'll marry a lady and have a family and be entirely happy?"

"But your father..."

"My father married my mother for financial vindication, nothing more," she said, with a wave of her gloved hand. "He loved her, in his way, but more as a close friend than a soulmate and we all wish to find a soulmate, Blaine. I mean no offence when I say this, but you and I, we are never to be soulmates, despite what your father may wish to be true."

Blaine snorted.

"He's very pretty," Rachel commented. "Kurt, that is. He watches you with this intensity. I've seen it tonight and I think you would be quite the fool to dismiss such a connection simply for the sake of society and the expectations of your father."

"I cannot do anything, Miss Rachel," Blaine said, with a sigh of regret. "He may not feel the same and should I make my intentions known, it could very well jeopardise our friendship."

"But don't you think it is worth the chance?" Rachel enquired. "Is not he worth the chance?"

"Without question," Blaine said, instantly. "He is worth everything."

"Then do act," she instructed. "If you wish you can tell your father we have made progression in our endeavours to learn more of each other. It is not a lie, not really. It might appease him for a short while and you can worry about the rest as it crosses your path."

"Why would you do this for me?" Blaine asked, curiously.

There was a glint in her eye as she spoke. "Because I believe in love and that it should never be limited for any reason whatsoever. Love is love, Blaine Anderson and we should all be allowed to love as we wish."


Blaine had disappeared with that insufferable Rachel Berry and had not come back through the door. Kurt had to pinch the bridge of his nose to dispose of the images his mind continued to conjure up, images which involved colliding lips and wandering hands.

Perhaps Mr. Anderson's words had finally gotten to Blaine and he was settling for the dreadful girl simply to please. Kurt felt sick to his stomach, for though he knew that what he felt was unacceptable and wrong in a multitude of ways, he could not help feeling worse that Blaine might be entering into the beginning of a romance with Rachel Berry.

Kurt, however, was knocked clean from such daydreams by the sound of a small voice.

"Excuse me."

Kurt lifted his head to find a pretty girl with blonde hair coiled on top of her head. Her dress was dusty pink and suited her well and she was smiling brightly, blood red lips curled upwards.

"Hello," Kurt said, smiling back.

"My name is Quinn Fabray."

"I remember you," Kurt admitted. "You lunched with Blaine. Anderson, that is."

Quinn nodded. "I wondered if you might invite me to dance."

Kurt raised both eyebrows. "Me?"

"Yes," she said. "It's not that..." She trailed off and hummed quietly for a moment. "My father, you see. He wishes to have me wed as soon as possible and I've been making less than any progress on the matter. I hoped you might dance with me so that he thinks I make an effort."

"Oh."

"I do not wish to wed you," she told him. "I have eyes for another, one which I can never have, you see."

Kurt understood perfectly. "I'll dance with you," he said.

"Will you?"

"Of course," Kurt said, grinning. "May I?"

"You may," Quinn said, taking Kurt's hand.


Blaine walked inside and Rachel Berry drifted away. He scanned the ballroom and stopped still as he noticed Kurt, dancing with none other than Miss Quinn Fabray. They were smiling and chatting and Blaine felt the stab of jealousy squeezing the very life from his heart. He almost forgot to breathe, but in that moment a figure appeared at his side.

"I rather thought you had brushed off the idea of Quinn Fabray."

"What?" Blaine asked, staring at his father, dumbfounded. "I have."

"Then why on earth do you stare so like a love sick dog?" he asked. "My goodness, boy, make up your mind."

"I have," Blaine told him, looking back to Kurt and Miss Fabray. They were laughing together now. "Or I thought I had."

"What is your meaning?"

"I am not sure, father," Blaine said, with a shake of his head. "I am just not entirely sure."


"He is a baker," Quinn explained. "He smiles at me. It-it makes me feel rather weak in my knees. It is silly, I know it is, for my father would skin both he and I alive should he find out that we share smiles and glances whenever we pass one another, but I am not sure I know how to help it."

Kurt nodded.

"He is called Noah," she went on. "He is rather...gruff, I suppose. He has a gleam in his eye that might suggest he is not quite so wholesome as the loaves he bakes, but oh, he is handsome! And so different to any of the others. I have met with so many now that I have lost count. None sparked such an interest in me as he. Yet my father." She groaned. "He would never approve."

"Do you love him?" Kurt asked, spinning her as they crossed the floor in their dance.

"Oh, no," she told him. "I do not think I could. But he excites me! I think we would enjoy the company of one another. He seems dangerous and I like that. I want to be able to meet with him. In secret! Wouldn't that be thrilling!"

Kurt frowned. "I'm not sure," he said. "It seems rather risky."

"Oh, but the risk is what makes it so thrilling, Kurt!" she said, beaming. "I dream of his fingers on my bare shoulders! Gasp all you want, but I want to be close to him. I want to feel his strong arms encompassing me! I want so much of him."

Kurt giggled and blushed slightly at the implications. "And if anyone found out?"

"I would at least have enjoyed myself," she said. "I would at least have tried."

Kurt pondered her words for a moment. "You think it is worth being disgraced?"

"I think we have only one chance to live our lives and that we should take every opportunity the good Lord shows us and grasp it and hold on. If we fall, well, at least we will have given it a shot. Isn't it better to know than to spend an eternity wondering?"

"I'm not sure."

"I am," Quinn said. "And tomorrow evening, I will meet with Noah, but I'll tell my father I am meeting another."

"Another," Kurt repeated.

"I hoped that might be where you would jump to my rescue," she said, hopefully. "My very own knight in velvet blue." She touched a finger to his collar.

"What would I need to do?"

"Just come for lunch sometimes," she said. "Possibly, anyway. Maybe it won't come to that."

"I see."

"I would tell my father we are courting," she said. "He finds you suitable. I would tell him we are picnicking in the country and I would meet with my Noah instead."

"It all seems rather dangerous, Quinn."

"Oh, please, Kurt!" she begged. "I know you don't know me well, but I thought we might be friends. Can't you find it in you to help me? It is for love, Kurt."

"You said you didn't love him."

"Well, I don't," she said. "Not just yet. But who is to say I won't in the future? Anything could happen, Kurt. Anything!"

Kurt thought for a moment, then nodded.


"I thought you didn't like Quinn Fabray," Kurt said, looking sideways at Blaine.

Blaine lifted his eyes from the book he had been feigning reading and gave Kurt a curious look.

"I don't dislike her."

"Oh?" Kurt said. "Then that explains why you've been so off with me. If you wanted her for yourself you should just have said. I would have kept well away."

"I don't want Quinn Fabray for myself," Blaine assured Kurt. "I spend large amounts of time with Rachel Berry, you know that."

"I also know you find her rather irritating," Kurt pointed out. "So if this has nothing to do with Quinn then why are you so quiet lately? You barely speak to me and you hardly ever look in my direction."

Blaine knew Kurt spoke the truth. He was avoiding him because the idea of Kurt being romantically involved with Quinn snapped his heart to pieces.

"I have been tired of late," he made his excuse. "I do not want Quinn Fabray, I assure you."

"I don't believe you."

"You should."

"It has been over a week and you were perfectly fine before we met," Kurt said. "I don't understand this sudden change."

"I owe you no explanations, Kurt," Blaine said, waving a hand. "Does she know you're a farmer's son?"

Kurt looked astounded and Blaine cursed himself to high Heaven for saying such a thing. There really was no coming back from such a statement.

"Kurt, I didn't—"

"Oh, but you did!" Kurt said. "I see what you think of me now, Blaine. I see why none of the ladies your father had you visit with seemed to fit your ideal. It is because you believe you are above everyone! Well, maybe you are above me, Blaine and maybe Quinn is, too, but unlike you, she does not seem to let such a thing bother her. In fact, I'm considering asking for her hand."

Blaine allowed his jaw to drop down. Kurt could not marry Quinn Fabray. Well. He could, of course, but Blaine so desperately wished he wouldn't.

"You... You've known her but a week! You cannot possibly love her so soon," Blaine said, nervously.

"I like her enough to know I could love her," Kurt huffed. "It is time you climbed down off your high horse and found yourself a wife. I understand that you think you reign above all, but you don't, Blaine Anderson. You don't! And it is high time you realised it."

"I don't think I'm better than anyone!" Blaine argued.

"Oh, I am sure," Kurt said, with a roll of his blue eyes. "You disagree with my courtship with Quinn, you insult me in front of my own face and yet you sit there insisting that you don't think you are superior!"

"I don't think I am better than you, you fool!" Blaine exploded, finally. "I don't disagree with whatever it is you have with Quinn, but I don't like it and I must tell you that I have my own reasons for it, but I won't ever tell you, because I cannot risk such things entering this moronic world! I didn't mean to insult you, I was angry and maybe unnecessarily so, but I cannot help how I feel!"

"And just how is it that you feel, Blaine?" Kurt asked, angry, too.

"I feel sick to my stomach and weak at my knees and sore in my heart because you cannot see that all I want is to be free to tell you the absolute truth!" Blaine groaned, heart hammering. "Oh, what is the point any more?" he asked, mostly of himself. "I can't stand it a second longer!"

He gave Kurt a final shake of his head, before standing and leaving the room. This frustrated him to a point that it was close to driving him mad. He knew he needed to mend the situation to a state that meant he could stand it, but that would mean breaking every contact with Kurt and he was simply not strong enough to do such a thing. He could have found a wife and moved away, but he would be leaving his heart behind in the hands of a boy who would never love him back and he simply didn't know how to live with such a disaster.

"I love you," Blaine whispered down the empty hallway. "I love you and you'll never know."


"He is wonderful!" Quinn told Kurt as they sat together on the bench in the Anderson's yard. "He is wonderful and I could so easily fall madly in love!"

Kurt smiled and told her he was happy for her.


"I refuse to believe he likes the girl," Rachel Berry told Blaine as they touched the piano keys gently and made soft music. "He looks upon you like you put the stars in the sky."

Blaine sighed. "He wants to marry her," he said. "I could have hung the moon and it would matter none."


"Oh, Kurt," Quinn said, spinning around, her skirts twirling in the motion. "He kissed me! On my lips! I am in love with him!"

Kurt smiled and told her she deserved it.


"You need to converse with him, Blaine," Rachel informed him as she swung gently back and forth on the swinging seat in the Anderson Manor grounds. "How ever will you know the truth if you tell him nothing?"

Blaine grunted, seeing no reason for words. He sat down with Rachel and they swung in silence.


"I let him see my corset," she told him bashfully, whispering quietly in the dull, evening air. "He was so gentle in his touch and his kiss was wild! I just want to be close to him."

Kurt smiled and did not let her see the cogs working inside his mind.


"Kiss him," Rachel urged, sipping her tea. "I think he'd kiss you back."

"He spends all his time with her," Blaine said, with a frown. "I couldn't kiss him without her watching."


"I hate him," Quinn sobbed against his shoulder. "I hate him and I never want to see him again."

Kurt rubbed her back and consoled her as best as he was capable, but not once did he utter the words 'I told you so'.


"It'll all work out," Rachel promised, giving Blaine's hand a squeeze. "I know you feel like the world will end, but it won't. It'll all work out."

Blaine closed his eyes and tried to envision a time when it could work out, but one would not grace his mind.


"I'm sorry," Blaine told Kurt one Sunday, after church. "I've been in a frightfully bad mood of late and had no right to take it out on you."

Kurt nodded. "Thank you."

"I don't think I'm better than you," Blaine continued. "And I don't think you're just a farmer's son. There's nothing wrong with being a farmer's son, but you're so much more than just that. You... You're Kurt."

Kurt nodded again. "And you're Blaine."

"Can we go back to being friends?"

"I would love nothing more."

Blaine smiled. Kurt smiled. Their hearts smiled with them.


"Kurt," Blaine said, as they sat together on Blaine's bed.

"Yes?"

"Do you think we are close enough that we could tell one another anything?"

Kurt paused and wondered if they were. "I like to think so," was what he said anyway.

Blaine only hummed.

"I have ended my ties with Quinn," Kurt told him. "We will stay friends, but I suppose that is all we have ever been."

"Have you kissed her?"

"Certainly not."

"I have not kissed Rachel, either," Blaine admitted. "I think we are simply friends, too. She loves a man by the name of Hudson."

"She is a fool to let you go," Kurt said, avoiding his eyes.

"Is she?"

"Mm," Kurt affirmed. "Is there something you wish to get off your chest?"

"Hmm?" Blaine asked. "Oh. Ah. Not especially. I just thought I'd enquire."

"You can, you know," Kurt said, looking into Blaine's golden eyes. "Tell me anything, that is. I'd never judge you or reject your friendship."

Blaine looked as if he might say something for a split second, but almost as quickly, he looked down at his hands and made a sound of contemplation. Kurt wondered what he might be thinking about, but stopped himself from hoping too much.

"I do not want to marry anyone," Blaine said, suddenly, pulling Kurt from his thoughts. "I cannot imagine a life I will have to share with another. No, strike that. I cannot imagine a life I have to share with one I cannot love, with one who cannot love me in return. It would be more a hell than a life."

"Perhaps you could avert your father's interest by showing your own interest in the university?" Kurt offered. "How can you concentrate all your attention on your studies with a wife and perhaps children on the scene?"

"I could," Blaine told him. "Yet it is not what I wish to happen."

"What, then, do you wish?"

Blaine raised his gaze to Kurt's waiting expression and studied it there for some time. He spoke, then, with a fear in his eyes and an anticipation on his face. "There is something I have been holding back," he said, voice lower now. "Kurt, the fact of the matter is that I—"

"Good Heavens, boys," Miss Pillsbury said, entering the room with a pile of linens in her grasp. "So many dust bunnies! I do not know how you can stand to relax here. If you'll just allow me to—"

Kurt watched as Blaine waved a hand at the maid's bashfulness. "Of course, miss," he said, pushing himself up. "We'll retire to my music room."

Kurt eyed Blaine for a moment, silently cursing the maid for bursting in when Blaine seemed to have something of importance to say. There was no point in dwelling however, so he stood and followed Blaine outside.

"You wanted to say something?" Kurt tried, as they walked to the music room together.

"Hmm? Oh, that. No, nothing terribly important. Come, I'd like to practice that new piece."

Kurt frowned and followed the other boy, wondering if perhaps he should say something of his own feelings, but in the end, he would always be far too afraid to make any sort of progression on the matter. He would simply follow in silence and hope that something would happen in his favour.


"I think he liked her more than he let on," Blaine told Rachel on one of their visits. "He's been terribly dreary of late and he says he's been robbed of his beauty sleep, but I can tell that he doesn't tell the absolute truth. He seems to be pining, Rachel. Perhaps he loves her."

Rachel gave a chuckle in response and fanned herself from the heat of the fire. "Now, Blaine," she said. "I think he might do well to join us at one of our lunches. Perhaps then I can use my senses to figure his feelings and tell you for certain."

"No."

"Why ever not!"

"You'll intimidate him, Rachel," Blaine argued.

"I will do no such thing!" she objected. "Hmph! What do you think of me! Honestly, Blaine Anderson, your actions are without cause, I must say."

"They are not without cause," he told her. "Suppose I make advances and he does not want what I want. Suppose he has a fancy for girls and is appalled at my unsavoury actions. Suppose he tells my father and all the world of my sins and then what should happen, Miss Rachel, is that I shall be disgraced. I shall be deemed a sinner, Satan's child, a predator of some form! I should think that all of this serves cause for my actions, or lack thereof."

Rachel shook her head and sighed. "I do wish the world was not as it is," she said.

"As do I," he told her. "I wish it every day."


"If I told you my biggest secret, would you keep it?" Kurt asked Quinn as she sewed in the garden.

Quinn looked up from her sewing and nodded. "You have kept mine," she said. "I trust you and hope you trust me, too."

Kurt nodded and took a deep breath. He had never uttered the words aloud and he could hardly hear his own thoughts with the incessant thump-thump-thump of his heart.

"I value your friendship, Quinn, and I will understand if what I tell you cuts it short," he began. "But because I trust and like you so, I will tell you. I have never told anyone before and I don't suppose I'll ever tell too many people. I am unlike other men, Quinn. I," he said and exhaled shakily, "am a lover of men rather than women."

He stopped and studied her, waiting for some sort of reaction. She had stopped her sewing and was watching him with wide and beautiful eyes.

"I never thought I would meet a person who had such leanings," she said. "But, Kurt, you have to know that I don't hate you for it. You are my friend — my dearest friend, at that — and I must show you support as you have shown me."

Kurt could hardly believe he was hearing such things. "You mean it?"

"Oh, of course!" she said, finally smiling, which relaxed Kurt some. "I've never heard of such a thing around here! I find it rather intriguing, if I am honest. Do tell me, Kurt, have you a beau?"

Kurt flushed visibly. "No," he said. "That is, I wish I did. Sometimes. Often I wish to make my feelings known to...someone, but I am far too fearful. Other times, I think I am doing the right thing, that feeling such things is a sin in itself, but to act on my feelings would be far worse than that. Yet, my heart aches with want for...someone."

"It is Blaine, isn't it?" she asked, leaning forward.

"What?" Kurt said, surprised. "I—no! Of course not!"

"It is," she said, with a nod. "It is!"

"Quinn—"

"Oh, Kurt!" she exclaimed, grinning. "You can tell me, you know!"

Kurt considered briefly telling her she had it wrong, that she was mistaken, but she was smiling and appearing so enthusiastic that he sighed and gave in.

"Yes," he said. "It is Blaine."

"You must tell him!" Quinn urged. "He would never judge you, even if he did not feel for you what you feel for him. He speaks so highly of you and you are such good friends. Do tell him!"

"I cannot," Kurt said, regretfully. "I wish I could, but I cannot. I wonder what my father might have thought of such a thing. I wish I had his council to seek, but I do not. He loved me so and perhaps he might have accepted such things, but I cannot help but wonder if he would have told me to never speak a word of it and to seek the company of a lady to spend my days with. Blaine and I, should he feel as I do, we could never have any sort of future and well you know it. We would be shown such hatred and disgust and I cannot bear it."

"Oh, but, Kurt!" Quinn said. "Remember what I said of love and life? We must never hold back for fear, we must try and if it goes wrong, we must pick ourselves up and try again! Don't you wish to find out if Blaine could feel the same? Don't you wonder if never telling might mean you are losing out on a chance to love and to be loved?"

Kurt nodded. "I wonder all the time," he admitted, "but can we pull through this if he doesn't feel the same?"

Quinn smiled slowly and squeezed his arm gently. "There is only one way to know with certainty. You must try."


Blaine could not sleep for thoughts plaguing his mind like the locusts in the Exodus story. He dared not think of religion, however, for he was surely a sinner with the feelings that he had. He had never experienced such conflict in his life and it made his head ache.

He climbed from his bed and shrugged on his robe, unsure of just where he would go. He felt the most solace in his music room, but to play would mean waking the entire household and that would result in questioning and he was not in the right form to answer any that might come his way.

Blaine slipped from his room and tip-toed down the empty hall, hoping that a short walk around the house would tire him and make him fit for sleep. Blaine passed the music room and then his mother and father's room and when he drew nearer to Kurt's room, he stopped.

There was a sound unlike any other coming from Kurt's end of the hall and it sent chills all up and down Blaine's body. He began his way towards the door, soon realising that the sounds were of small sobs and broken breaths and he had the sudden urge to run to him, to hold him and tell him all was right.

On an occasion, Blaine had heard Kurt cry in mourning of his father, but these cries seemed helpless and chilling. Blaine's heart was in his mouth as he rapped lightly on the door and whispered Kurt's name into the night.

"Kurt?"

The sobs stilled momentarily and then there was a creaking sound and then some footsteps and a moment later, the door opened inwards and Kurt stood there, all pale and flushed in the light of the silver moon slipping through his bare window.

"I heard you cry," Blaine admitted. "Is everything well?"

Kurt sniffed and nodded. "I did not mean to wake you," he said, sadly. "I tried to be quiet, but—"

"Do not fret," Blaine said, reaching for Kurt's arm. "Could I perhaps come in? I couldn't sleep and I think you could do with a friend."

"A friend," Kurt repeated. "Indeed. Ah, yes. That is-I mean to say, um. Come right in."

Blaine stepped inside and Kurt closed the door. Blaine sat on Kurt's rumpled bed.

"I'm sorry about my state of undress," Kurt said, blushing. "I can—"

"You don't need to apologise, I assure you," Blaine promised. "This is your room, you can be as you wish. They are, after all, just your night clothes."

Kurt nodded, but still looked troubled, as he went to sit next to Blaine.

"Do you want to talk about why you are sad?" Blaine asked. "Is... Is it Quinn?"

"Quinn?" Kurt asked, wrinkling his nose.

"I thought you might have been left heartbroken following the ending of your courtship," Blaine explained.

"Oh!" Kurt said, a small smile on his lips. "No, nothing of the sort. Quinn and I are friends and wish to be nothing more than that. It is not Quinn who breaks my heart."

Blaine's eyebrows went upwards and his eyes went wide. There was another girl!

"Do I know her?" he asked.

"Hmm? Who?"

"The girl who has broken your heart," Blaine clarified, unsure if he really wanted to know the details.

"It..." Kurt trailed off and shook his head. "Blaine, it is nothing like that. Not at all."

"Do forgive me if I'm confused," Blaine uttered.

"You have reason to be."

Blaine nodded.

"Blaine."

"Yes?"

"You almost told me something some days ago," Kurt told him. "We were interrupted by the maid and you brushed it off as if it were nothing, yet moments earlier it seemed to be a weight on your chest."

Blaine looked down. "Oh."

"Yes," Kurt said. "I wish you'd told me what it was. I think you wanted to tell me."

"Why is it so important to you to know?"

"Because I have wondered what it might be," he said. "In fact, I have hoped it might be...certain things."

"Certain things?" Blaine asked, head raising immediately.

Kurt avoided his gaze. "Will you tell me what it was?"

"Kurt," Blaine said, mind spinning. "When you said you hoped it might be certain things," he said, voice low, "can you tell me what things you hope for?"

"I am afraid."

"You have no need to be."

"Yet still I am."

Blaine sighed. "I am afraid, too."

"No matter what it is," Kurt told him, "I will still be your friend."

"That," Blaine told him, quietly, "is exactly what I do not want."


Kurt looked at Blaine with all the understanding of a bull trying to read Tennyson. "You do not want us to be friends?"

"I don't mean that," he said. "It is difficult for me to explain without telling you everything."

"Then do!" Kurt urged. "You can share it with me! It might even serve to help you in dealing with whatever it might be, for sometimes, talking about something eases the burden."

"Rachel knows," Blaine admitted.

Kurt frowned. "Oh. I see."

"But only because she figured it out on her own account," he corrected. "She never hated me for it, only supported and urged that I tell you."

"Then do," Kurt said. "I love you, you are my closest friend and you can tell me anything."

"That's the problem!" Blaine said, with a groan. "You love me for I am your dearest friend, but you will never love me in ways that I want you to, in ways that I love you! It is true, Kurt, that you are my closest friend as well, but you are also much more than just that! You are the very heart of me and I cannot endure the pain a moment longer!"

Kurt watched as the boy next to him covered his face with his shivering hands and took long, deep, fretful breaths. Kurt was shaking himself, for Blaine's words had suggested things, but never quite confirmed just what they meant.

Taking a deep breath and hoping for guidance from his father in Heaven, he leaned closer and touched Blaine's quivering shoulder.

"What, exactly, does that mean?" Kurt asked, in a whisper.

"It means," Blaine said, still curled in a ball, "that I love you as my father wishes I would love a lady suitable to become my wife. It means I love you in ways that makes me a sinner and earns me a space in the darkest corner of Hell."

"Oh," Kurt said, blood singing in his veins. "Well, at least you won't be lonely, even if it is dark."

Blaine lifted his head slowly and gave Kurt an inquisitive look. "What?"

"You won't be lonely," Kurt said again, but now he had moved even closer, "for I will be there with you."

Blaine looked hopeful, but still uncertain and Kurt could not help the smile which forced its way onto his lips.

"I love you," Kurt confessed, still unable to believe it was reality and not a dream. "I love you as you love me and I cannot pretend I don't for another moment."

Blaine smiled, beautifully and happily. "You speak the truth?"

"I do," Kurt told him, taking his open hand. "I will only ever speak to you words of truth."

Blaine let out a sigh of relief and squeezed Kurt's hand in his own. "I'd like very much to kiss you," he said, bashfully. "On the cheek if you think I am too forward."

Kurt could not help but laugh. "I'd like for you to kiss me," he said. "But not on the cheek."

Blaine looked blankly at him for a couple of heartbeats of unmitigated silence, and then he smiled again and leaned across to cup Kurt's jaw with his hand. He pressed their foreheads close together and Kurt's skin felt burned by the heat, but it did not matter in that moment, because Blaine finally sealed their lips together and kissed him in a way that just crossed over the line of chaste.

Kurt almost gasped when Blaine deepened the kiss and began to press him backwards on the bed. His heart was dancing beneath his ribcage and his fingers clutched Blaine's robe as he did not know what else to do. He did not by any means want it to stop, but he was frightened, for what did this mean and what exactly did two men even do?

Much to both Kurt's relief and dismay, Blaine pushed backwards away from him and smiled as he touched his fingers to stray pieces of hair on Kurt's brow.

"I want to kiss you for the rest of my life," he told Kurt, voice thicker than earlier.

"I want you to," Kurt admitted.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Kurt nodded. Blaine smiled harder and pressed him back again as he touched their lips together and moved his lips against Kurt's. Kurt followed suit and soon, Blaine's tongue had slipped past Kurt's teeth and had found a rhythm with Kurt's own tongue and oh, it was all so new and exciting and terrifying, but mostly wonderful, for he hadn't known just how badly he wanted to be so close to Blaine until that very instant.

Kurt was forced to break their kiss when Blaine's fingers brushed over his bare shoulder where his shirt had slipped away in the motion. The heat of his touch sent thrills all along Kurt's skin and he knew that should he allow Blaine to continue, they would find themselves in a rather serious position.

Kurt was still on edge about the entire thing, for it was still a sin and if anyone was to discover them, they would be destroyed in several ways, socially and emotionally, to name but two. Yet, still, Kurt felt happiest with Blaine so close and when Blaine touched him, he could not bring himself to worry so about the limits and rules of society.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said, pushing the material back across Kurt's shoulder. "I couldn't resist."

"It is alright," Kurt told him, colour filling his cheeks. "I liked it, but I don't want to move too quickly."

"I understand," Blaine said. "I've done some research. About people like me, well, like us, I suppose. The Ancient Greeks, for example. They... I don't mean to frighten you, or have you believe you are expected to do anything more than kiss me, but I know who I am and I had to find out. We both know of the great shame of men lying together, of the Good Book and even of the...the executions in the 1700s." Blaine shuddered. "But there have been cases in the past of such people as ourselves not being punished."

Kurt nodded and waited.

"I know we can never let it seep out into the public," Blaine went on. "I know we will be one another's secret love and I know that I love you enough to want forever with you. I did this research more for my own knowledge than anything, but if you like, I'll share it with you."

Kurt exhaled. "I want to know how two men express their love, Blaine," he told him. "I think that perhaps some day it might be of use."

Blaine smiled. "I hope so," he said. "If not, that's alright, too."

"Just tell me."

"It is written as anal and penetrative intercourse."

Kurt's eyes went wide. "But how...?"

"I didn't find anything that told me the how," he said, "but there was also what is called interfemoral intercourse and rubbing to create, ah, friction."

Kurt went pale. "Perhaps we can return to the topic in the future when it is more suitable."

"Of course," Blaine said, with a smile. "Are you tired?"

"Some," Kurt said. "I haven't slept a lot."

"Nor have I," Blaine confessed. "A final kiss and I will return to my bed chamber."

Kurt nodded and Blaine kissed him again, allowing his lips to linger on Kurt's, before slipping away and taking both his hands.

"Sleep now, my love," he said, with a grin. "I shall see you on the morrow."

"You shall," Kurt said, kissing Blaine's knuckle. "We'll talk more then?"

"I look forward to it," Blaine apprised him. "Sweet dreams."

"I'll dream of you," Kurt said. "I always do."


The following morning was bright and blessed as Blaine dressed and walked down the stairs to the dining room. Kurt was there before him, already seated at the table and sipping tea. Blaine's mouth tilted up into a broad smile when he saw him there. Kurt only gave a twitch of his lips, his eyes lowering, a small blush creeping across his cheeks. Blaine sat and thanked Mrs Rose when she filled his cup.

"Good morning," Blaine said, once the cook had left the room.

"The same to you," Kurt said.

"I hope you slept well."

"I did," Kurt assured. "I woke thinking I had had the most wonderful dream."

"Oh?" Blaine asked, with a slight smirk. "Do tell."

"I'm afraid I cannot," Kurt told him. "For it turned out to be not that of a dream, but a reality. Imagine that."

"I do not need to imagine when it sits right in front of my face," he said, finally meeting Kurt's blue eyes. "Right in front of my face looking more beautiful than any girl ever could."

Blaine enjoyed the deepening blush on his love's skin as he lowered his gaze to his biscuits.

"Anyone could hear," Kurt muttered.

"I wish it didn't matter."

"But it does."

"I am aware," he said, sadly. "No matter. What are your plans for today?"

"None as of yet," Kurt said.

"Might you be interested in joining me for a picnic?"

Kurt looked up, face a mask of surprise. "I would be delighted."


"I'm so happy for you, Kurt," Quinn said, when he told her. "I hope he makes you very happy."

"He does," Kurt told her, still on a high from the events of the previous evening. "He makes me feel as if I could easily fly."

Sometimes, he wished he could.


"You look at me as if you think I should act surprised," Rachel said, smirking, once Blaine had explained what had occurred with Kurt. "Well, I am not in the least, Blaine Anderson, but I am thrilled that you have finally taken these steps. Congratulations and may you two be very happy together. Oh, and what a pair! Vocalists and musicians! A match made in Heaven!"

"Perhaps not Heaven," Blaine told her, with a slight frown. "But when I am with him, that is Heaven enough."

"Well, isn't that all that matters?" Rachel enquired with a wave of her hand.

"Yes," Blaine said, truthfully. "That truly is all that matters."


"Do you think of them often?" Blaine asked, pulling on strands of green grass.

"As often as I wake in the mornings," Kurt said, with a sad smile. "My father was my best friend, you see. It was he and I for so long that sometimes I feel as if I am half of a whole."

Blaine nodded and spoke no words, allowing Kurt more time.

"I've felt better lately," Kurt said. "With you. I feel not so empty or alone, although often I wonder if my father frowns on me from Heaven."

"You are happy?" Blaine asked, reaching for Kurt's hand, just as he had done every single day since they had formed their romantic relationship, a fortnight earlier.

"Happier than I have been in such a long time."

"Wouldn't your father want that for you?" Blaine enquired. "For you to be happy, at any cost?"

"I suppose he would," Kurt said, thoughtfully.

"Well, then, I would not worry so," Blaine told him, grinning.

"You are right," Kurt said, laying back in the grass. "You always know just what to say."

"I try to," Blaine said. "Will you visit with me tonight?"

"Don't I always?" Kurt asked, watching the indefinite shapes of the clouds as they drifted lethargically in the bright, blue sky.

Kurt and Blaine has paid visits to the other's bedroom each night since. Lazy and frantic kisses passed between them and knees slipped and fingers wandered, but nothing too alarming had happened, as of yet, but Kurt thought it might come close to something soon and he wanted something to happen. He was unsure of just what, but he knew that Blaine caused a light in him that he had never known he possessed.

"Yes, I am a lucky man," Blaine uttered, linking their fingers.

"Not," Kurt said, turning on his stomach, "as lucky as I."


"Blaine," Kurt gasped beneath him. "You can."

Blaine froze, his fingers resting on Kurt's hip. "Tell me what you want," he choked out.

"You c-can touch my skin," he told Blaine. "Here."

Blaine's eyes went wide in the darkness as Kurt took his hand and pressed his fingers up under the garment covering his torso. Kurt's skin was smooth and soft, just as Blaine had imagined. He shivered beneath his touch and his breath left his body in quivers against Blaine's lips.

Blaine pressed his fingers up Kurt's side, over the curve of his hip, cautiously, as he continued to press small, brief kisses to his swollen lips.

"You can, too, you know," Blaine said, aware of Kurt's hand pressed firmly to his back. "You can touch me anywhere."

Kurt's eyes flashed the moon reflected in them and he moved his hand down Blaine's back very slowly, then paused at the small of it. Blaine's fingers stilled as they found Kurt's ribs and he kissed him sloppily. Then, to Blaine's surprise and delight, Kurt's hand slipped down and rested on the curve of Blaine's clothed backside. Blaine could not retract the choked sound that escaped his lips in that moment.

"Is this... This is okay?" Kurt asked, breathlessly.

"More than okay," Blaine admitted. "Is this?" he asked, fingers continuing their journey over the bumps of Kurt's ribs under his pale skin.

"It's nice," Kurt told him.

Blaine kissed him sweetly and moved his hand further up until his fingers slipped across the soft rise of a nipple and when they did, Kurt's hand on his backside squeezed and they both gasped, then broke into quiet giggles.

"I know I shouldn't feel quite so embarrassed," Kurt said, "for I know you would never think badly of me, but I can't seem to help it."

"I feel the same," Blaine said, kissing the side of his mouth just once. "But I knew that our romance would progress in such a way eventually and I want us to be sure, so if there ever is anything that makes either of us uncomfortable or feel as if we are moving too quickly, we must inform the other."

"I agree," Kurt told him. "And if we are discussing it," he went on, "what you did just now was entirely acceptable and I wouldn't mind if you did it again."

Blaine's next words had Kurt blushing. "I assure you I feel exactly the same."


The very first time Kurt allowed Blaine to remove his shirt was one Friday evening when Blaine's parents had left to have supper with the Mottas. They sat side by side on Kurt's bed, until they were positive that the Andersons had vacated the area and then locked the door, keeping them both safely and securely inside.

As soon as they were entirely alone, they met each other in careless kisses and frenzied touches and stifled giggles and gasps. Kurt's body never failed to tingle and shudder when he was close to Blaine. The fast paced hammering of his heart was loud in his ears and he felt giddy and nervous and so blissfully happy, despite knowing that all of this was wrong.

Kurt's inhibitions were knocked right out of him when he felt the cool touch of Blaine's fingers on the sliver of bare skin on show where his shirt had ridden up. Kurt froze and Blaine eyed him carefully. He paused a moment, then nodded. Blaine looked stunned.

"Are you quite sure?" he asked.

Kurt nodded shakily. "I want you to."

Blaine's mouth tilted upwards on each side and he sat back on his knees beside Kurt. Kurt held his breath as Blaine untucked his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. Kurt lowered his gaze and stared across the room at the curve of the mirror. He followed the curls with his eyes and studied the chipped gold paint. Blaine, all the while, began sliding the buttons on Kurt's shirt through their loops and soon he had it entirely undone.

Not counting his parents, not a living soul had seen Kurt's body unclothed and while he wanted to show Blaine all of him, his heart, his body, his mind, he still felt the slightest bit nervous and jittery. What if Blaine disliked what he saw there?

"Sit up for a minute?" Blaine said, gently, stroking over Kurt's wrist.

Kurt obeyed. He sat and allowed Blaine to slide his shirt over his arms and then his upper body was bare. Blaine folded the garment carefully and laid it down on the chair closest to him, then looked back to Kurt. Kurt's body stilled at the sharp intake of breath that Blaine took when he did. He felt self-conscious under the boy's watchful gaze, body colouring in places as Blaine's tea coloured eyes roved slowly over him. Finally, Blaine raised his eyes to Kurt's eyes and shook his head so slightly that had Kurt not been paying the utmost attention, he would not have noticed.

"Kurt," was all Blaine uttered.

"Should I redress?" Kurt ventured to enquire.

"God, no," Blaine said, reaching for Kurt's hand. "You don't meet my eyes." Kurt shifted uncomfortably, but Blaine tightened his grip and reached out to steady him. "What unnerves you?"

Kurt kept his gaze on their interlocked hands. "I feel as though I am on show."

"You are embarrassed," Blaine said, the smallest smile on his mouth.

Kurt mumbled something incoherently and tried to break free of Blaine's grasp, but Blaine would not allow it.

"Kurt," he said, prompting Kurt to meet his eyes. "Your beauty surpasses that of any beauty I have ever witnessed." He took Kurt's hand and pressed it firmly to his chest. "Can you feel it? The stutter of my heart? It trips and tumbles over your name, for it is you who owns it, who resides in it and who will forever remain there. I have nothing but good things in my mind about you and you have no need for embarrassment or shyness in my presence—or anyone's presence for that matter, for you are beautiful beyond any comparison, lover."

Kurt could not help but succumb to the contractions and convulsions of his heart and it was plain on his face in the smile that tugged on his lips.

"Could I, too, see you?" Kurt asked, shakily.

"Without question," Blaine told him.

Kurt gave a half-nod and then got to work at undoing Blaine's clothing. Soon, he was sliding the final button open and Blaine dropped his hands and allowed Kurt permission to undress his torso entirely. Kurt took either side of the garment and pushed it off of Blaine's strong shoulders. He felt his breath catching almost painfully in his throat as he caught sight of the vast expanse of tanned skin beneath. On pushing it the rest of the way off, Kurt stroked his hands over the curves of Blaine's muscled arms and then took his hands in his.

"Magnificent," Kurt told him.

"Indeed you are," Blaine said, with a smirk. "I want to kiss you."

"You have my permission."

Blaine lowered Kurt backwards until his bare back was flat on the bedding and then his front half was being covered by Blaine's body. He let out a shaking breath and opened his mouth to Blaine's own mouth and tried his best not to moan when Blaine's fingers explored his chest, the tips sliding slowly over the pebbled nubs of his nipples.

"You can touch me, too, you know," Blaine whispered on his lips. "If you wish."

"I wish," Kurt managed.

He lifted a cautious hand to Blaine's waist and then slid it upwards until he was following the curves of his chest, the ripples of his ribs, the pale pink nipples. Blaine did not hold back the sounds of pleasure as Kurt touched them, he simply gripped Kurt tighter and moaned carelessly into his mouth.

At this point, Kurt felt the press of Blaine's crotch to his own and as hardness met hardness. Both boys stilled and met the others' gaze. Kurt took control of the situation then, his mind telling him to just take action and do as he wanted and so, Kurt rotated his hips, causing a great friction and Blaine gasped and ground his own body back.

"I've never felt such a thing," Kurt admitted, eyes rolling slowly back in his head.

They continued to roll their hips, harder, faster and Kurt knew just what the familiar coiling in his stomach meant. His release hit then, perhaps a little too quickly, but in the end, not too quickly at all, because Blaine's came seconds later and they did not break contact until they were both far too sensitive and whining against one another's swollen lips.

"That was..." Kurt could not get the rest of the sentence out.

"Sensational," Blaine provided. "Wonderful. Marvellous. Like nothing I have ever experienced."

Kurt giggled and buried his face in the other boy's neck. "I love you."

"And I, you," Blaine told him, pressing a hot kiss to the space behind his ear. "And I, you."


"Ah! The sweet scent of the bliss of lovers!"

Kurt sprung backwards, half way across the room. Blaine's neck snapped around quickly at the sound of the voice, his heart diving into his throat. It relaxed then, as his eyes rested on the person to whom the voice belonged.

"You can come back," Blaine said, softly, reaching a hand out in Kurt's direction. Kurt looked uneasy. "She knows. She approves."

Kurt turned to study Rachel, who had walked in quite unannounced. "Miss Berry," he greeted, finally.

"Kurt," Rachel said, with a little curtsy. "I'm sorry to have interrupted such a moment of intimacy," she went on, with a knowing smile, "but your father sent me up to find you and I thought that it would not do for him to come up here to discover you in such a position together and well, I rather think you should be singing my praises."

"Thank you," Blaine said, with a small chuckle. "Was there something he needed?" he asked, as he re-buttoned the last four buttons on his white shirt.

Kurt had already tidied his attire to look presentable.

"I think he simply wished to make my presence known to you," Rachel told him, taking a seat at the desk. "It is nice to see you are both doing well."

Kurt shot her one of his trademark glares, but came in Blaine's direction when he gestured for him to do so. Kurt sat on the bed, next to Blaine and Blaine did not reach for his hand, for he looked uncomfortable in the presence of another. Blaine would never dare push.

"How goes things with the Hudson fellow?" Blaine asked, in an attempt to change topic.

"Oh, he hardly notices my existence," Rachel said, with exaggerated misery. "He loves another. None other than the handsome Miss Fabray."

"Quinn?" Kurt asked, suddenly interested.

"You know her?"

"They courted," Blaine supplied.

"It hardly counts as courting," Kurt said, with a glance in his direction. "We are good friends. And you need not worry about any Hudson. She's had her heart broken by another and has no interest in anyone as of now."

"Oh?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded. "A story for another time," he said.

"Oh," Rachel uttered. "Perhaps I should approach him at the coming ball."

"A fine idea," Blaine told her.

"Well, I suppose I ought to be on my way," Rachel said, suddenly on her feet. "Do be more careful, you two. I would so hate for you to be revealed to all as something unsavoury and unnatural. Never be ashamed of your love, for it is what makes you both strong."

Kurt gave her a smile, possibly the first smile he had ever had in the presence of the girl.

"We shall," Blaine assured her. "See you at the ball?"

"At the ball," she promised, before flashing a wink and disappearing out the door.


"We should," Kurt said, pulling himself free of Blaine's arms, "go," he finished. "We should go."

Blaine tugged him back into his warm embrace and crashed his lips to Kurt's once again. "I don't want to."

"We must," Kurt said, clutching Blaine's upper arms. "What ever will people say if you don't make an appearance."

"Oh, I don't care," Blaine told him. "I want to stay with you. Father and mother are leaving for my brother's and we will finally have the day to ourselves. I can't pass up such a thing, when we have had to be so very careful with our nightly calls."

Kurt blushed at the mention of their nightly visits. Most nights, they would visit one another after dark and spend hours and hours exploring one another's body, with fingers and lips and tongues and then they would have no option but to return to their own bedrooms and drift into slumber so cold and alone.

"We could spend the entire night together," Blaine prompted. "We could awake together and I could kiss you good morning."

Kurt smiled at the idea, but they still had to go to the ball. "Blaine," he said, touching his finger;s to Blaine's temple. "We must attend the ball, if only to please your father. We can leave early and do as you said anyway."

Blaine groaned and pressed a little kiss to Kurt's forehead. "Alright," he said, with a sigh. "We'll go. Do you promise to resist the wanton gazes of the other ladies and gents tonight?"

Kurt snorted. "Perhaps a couple of ladies, but never has another man laid eyes on me in such a fashion!"

"That, my dear, is where you are incorrect," Blaine said, with a grin, "for I have seen the eyes of one David Karofksy linger on your person a trifle longer than is perhaps appropriate."

Kurt blushed all the way down to his toes. "Surely not!"

"To be sure," Blaine told him. "Now, what ever will I wear?"

"The green waistcoat," Kurt told him. "You look stunning in green."

"I hope you'll wear blue."

"Only for you."


They arrived at the ball right on time and said hello and answered how do you dos and finally, were left to their own company. They crossed the floor and took a seat at one of the back tables.

"How soon is too soon to leave?" Blaine enquired.

"We've only just arrived!"

"I know, I know," he said. "I suppose I should at least feign at enjoying myself."

"Mm," Kurt said. "Your adoring fans have gathered already."

Blaine cast his gaze in the direction Kurt was pointing and saw three giggling maidens staring in his direction. They blushed and looked away when he looked at them. Blaine sighed.

"I wish I could simply stand and shout it at the top of my voice."

He did not need to clarify just what he wanted to shout, for Kurt knew already.

"Yes, well, if you wish to be out-casted and in harm's way, by all means, go ahead, but I don't encourage it, for I like your knees where they are already," Kurt said.

Blaine laughed weakly. "I know," he said. "I would never put you in danger's way."

"I know," Kurt said, this time. "You must go dance with one of them," he said, sadly. "They'll approach you eventually and if they don't, they'll stand there pining after you until you do. Best to get it over and done with and when you've made your rounds we can leave."

"Oh, good," Blaine said. "I plan on keeping you in my bed until my father and mother have returned."

Kurt's face flushed and he looked down at the neatly folded napkins. "Go, Anderson, before you get me hot and bothered."

"I rather think," Blaine began, studying the very noticeable blush on Kurt's cheekbones, "I have already done that."


Kurt watched as Blaine smiled charmingly and held the waist of the girl in the mint green dress. She was one of the Lord Crawford's daughters, Lord Crawford who owned the girls' school on the outskirts of town and she was very pretty. The mint green was flattering on her and looked well with her dark, chocolate coloured ringlets. She was beaming into Blaine's face, eyes wide and admiring. Her arms were around him and they looked like a prince and princess together.

Despite Kurt's knowledge of Blaine's preference to men, he could not help the sharp sting that struck his heart at such a sight. He knew that they would share a bed tonight and that it would be he that Blaine uttered words of love and promises of forever, but the image did not do him any sort of comfort.

Kurt's mind was pulled from Blaine and the girl at the sound of a voice to his left. He turned to find Quinn, who looked a tad green. She was adorned in expensive, white silk, which was doing nothing for her at that moment, as she looked rather ill.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, sliding a chair out for her to be seated.

She sat. "Oh, I'm fine," she said. "A bit of a fever, that's all," she said, waving a hand. "I came to ask you for a dance," she said, with a smile that looked rather forced. "My mother still thinks we are courting."

Kurt frowned. "You need to put her straight," he said.

"Oh, yes," Quinn said. "Not tonight, however. Tonight, we enjoy one another's company."

Kurt turned his glance back to Blaine, who was now dancing with another of the Crawford girls, this time a red head, with piercing green eyes. He frowned.

"Blaine is enjoying himself," Quinn told him. "Come, Kurt. We are friends, are we not?"

"Of course we are," he said, looking at her again. "Alright, one dance. I promised Blaine we would leave early."

Quinn nodded and he took her hand and they graced the dance floor.


"I hope you don't mind me stealing him away," Blaine said, when he had approached Kurt and Quinn dancing together some time later. Kurt's eyes were on him instantly and a bright smile appeared on his lips.

"Of course," Quinn said, with a little bow. She stepped back. "Thank you for spending the night with me, Kurt. I shall see you soon?"

"Soon," Kurt promised.

Quinn gave Blaine a brief nod and slipped away through the crowds.

"Shall we summon the carriage, lover?" Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear.

He saw the redness touch his skin and spread. "Yes," was all Kurt managed to say.

Blaine smiled and they headed outside. Their carriage arrived quickly enough and they climbed inside and sat closely together, but not too close, for the driver would surely tell Blaine's father if he caught them.

"I cannot wait to spend the entire night with you wrapped up in my embrace," Blaine whispered softly in his ear. "It's all I've had on my mind."

Kurt blushed, just as he ought to have and smiled. "I assure you, I look forward to it, too."

A set of dark eyes was on them then and they turned their heads to look out at the fields.

"I'm rather tired from dancing with Miss Fabray all evening," Kurt said, quite cleverly.

"And I with the Crawford ladies," Blaine added. "You and Miss Fabray make a fine couple, indeed."

"I think so," Kurt said.

The driver went back to ignoring them and they sighed in relief. They hated that this was how things had to be, but there was no helping it. Blaine gave Kurt's side a gentle nudge with his elbow and Kurt glanced his way. Blaine smiled and lifted his jacket in his lap, where his hand was open and waiting for Kurt's. Kurt slipped his hand across Blaine's lap and they twined their fingers together, before covering their hands with the garment. They rode the rest of the way in silence, hands clasped together in a solid union.


Kurt swallowed in an attempt to rid of himself of the lump in his throat, as he watched Blaine clasp the door's lock. It was the first night they would be able to spend together, with no disruptions or worries. Kurt wanted this, desired all of Blaine, but that did not relieve him of his nervous feelings. Blaine looked around and smiled shyly.

"You look worrisome," Blaine said.

Kurt smiled, small and brief and then looked down at his boots.

"You're worried this means we need to make progression in regards to the intimate side of our relationship."

Kurt did not reply, and so Blaine knew he was correct. He went closer and reached for Kurt's hand. He took it and they sat down on the bedding, hands clasped together.

"We'll do no more than usual," Blaine promised. "In fact, should you wish it, we'll just sleep."

Kurt looked up and met his eyes. "I don't want to sleep yet," he said.

There was a gleam in his eye, but Blaine could not be sure just what it implied, and so, instead of making assumptions, he nodded and squeezed the hand in his own.

"What, then, would you like to do?" he asked, softly.

"Perhaps," Kurt said, with a hue of pink filling his cheeks, "we could strip to our night things and climb under the covers."

Blaine nodded. "We can do that."


Kurt studied Blaine next to him in the light of the moon and of the dim lamp on the wall. They lay side by side, heads turned in one another's direction, silent, not a word leaving their lips. Their hands were joined between them and they were beneath the sheets, nightclothes on. Kurt wanted so very desperately to reach across and strip Blaine of every morsel of clothing and just hold onto him. He wanted to feel close to him, to have them touching skin to skin with nothing to keep them apart.

"What fills your mind, lover?" Blaine asked, then, breaking the silence.

"Thoughts of you, of us," Kurt confessed, knowing his cheeks were burning.

"Oh?"

"Mm," he said. "Would you think me badly if I asked something of you?"

"Never."

Kurt nodded. "I want to see you," he told Blaine. "All of you."

Blaine's bright eyes darkened some and he nodded almost straight away.

"I... Could I remove your clothes first?"

"Anything you wish," Blaine said, sitting up.

Kurt sat up, too, and then reached across to touch the other boy's lips with his own. He leaned back, then and reached for the small buttons of Blaine's nightshirt. He unbuttoned it slowly, all the way down until it was undone. Blaine shrugged out of it, until he was left in nothing but his undergarment. Kurt swallowed, eyeing the rather prominent bulge there in Blaine's front. He quickly averted his gaze and took Blaine's wrist.

"Undress me, too," he urged, placing Blaine's hand on his chest.

Blaine eagerly agreed. He got to his knees and quickly undid Kurt's shirt and soon he was sliding it from his body until it fell to the rug in a white pool. Blaine watched him carefully, obviously trying to understand just what Kurt wanted next.

"I want to feel every inch of you against me," Kurt explained. "I want it with all of me, but I am afraid."

"There is no need for fear, love," Blaine assured him. "I'll go first if this is your wish."

"I thought perhaps we could go together. You and I. One."

Blaine nodded. "On the count of three?"

"One," Kurt uttered.

"Two," Blaine followed

"Three," they spoke together and then shifted to remove the final pieces of material covering their bodies.

And they were bare. Kurt lifted his eyes slowly to Blaine's body and could not help but look directly at his lower half, the half he had never before seen entirely naked. He was surprised to find Blaine's cock already curved to his stomach, hard and shining at the tip. He looked to Blaine's eyes, mouth dry.

"Be-because of...of me?" he asked in a low whisper.

"Always," Blaine told him. "Always because of you."

He felt as if he was under interrogation then when Blaine's gaze drifted down to his own lower half. He was hard himself, but not quite as hard as Blaine, quite possibly because of his fear and inhibitions.

"You are spectacular, you know," Blaine said, not hiding the way his gaze lingered between Kurt's legs. "So very spectacular."

Kurt smiled and held out a shaking hand, which Blaine took happily. He pressed a hot kiss to the back of Kurt's hand.

"You take the lead now, Kurt," he said, in a hushed tone. "I'll do anything you want of me."

"Can we get beneath the sheets again?" Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded his head and they climbed under and resumed their position from before. Kurt was aware of the heavier breathing coming from both of them now and he needed to ground himself before making any sort of moves or attempts to touch.

"I'd like to press myself against you," Kurt admitted and he could not help but take note of the sudden stilling of Blaine breaths.

"Would you?" Blaine asked, voice choked.

"Maybe in a moment," Kurt said. There was a pause. Then, "Do you think about our sins, Blaine?"

"How can they be sins?" Blaine asked, in the darkness. "Is love a sin? Are we sinning for loving with all our hearts?"

"I don't know the answer," Kurt said. "I think of us and the Bible and the things we have been told and the executions in the past and all those grave, grave, terrible things. I think of the people we were told of, of the badness and the evil they were described with, yet I look at you, with your soul and your heart and your smile and those eyes and I cannot imagine you ever being evil. I know I am not evil. How can we be evil as two when we are not evil as individuals?"

"We cannot."

"Precisely," Kurt said. "Of course, with the developments in industry and the new science theories, many have lost their faith and know not what to think, so perhaps our sins are not all bad. I give myself a headache with thoughts of the future and the afterlife and I tell myself I must stop it before I have caused your and my own eternal damnation, but then I am close to you and you smile at me and I forget all the things I worried so about and I care not any longer."

"I'm glad."

"I've vowed now to stop," Kurt told him. "I refuse to allow the minds of others take hold of my life and of our love. I want to stop feeling as if I am doing wrong just for the reason that I want to hold your hand, or kiss your lips."

Blaine listened, allowed him to continue.

"If there is a God and He thinks us wrong, well, perhaps I do not want to be a part of such a God."

Blaine looked at him then. "You can't mean that."

"I do!" Kurt assured him. "I cannot imagine our love having any sort of bad connotations," he said. "I rather think you have saved my life and if your entrance to my life means that I am to burn in Hell, then why do I feel so blissfully happy in your presence? No, I shan't believe any of the nonsense people spout, for our love is real and I refuse to keep us held back because of them."

Blaine nodded and smiled.

"Which is why," Kurt said, with a deep intake of breath, "I want you to make love to me."


Blaine's breath caught in his throat and his eyes glazed over and his body went rigid.

"I... You mean it?" he asked. "I won't think badly of you if you don't, but... Oh, please say you mean it, Kurt."

"I mean it," Kurt affirmed. "I mean it from the inner most crevice of my heart."

Blaine smiled. "I love you," he said. "Oh, how I love you!"

Kurt grinned and pressed a brief kiss to his cheek. "I want to, but..." He paused. "I don't quite understand the mechanics of it."

Blaine nodded.

"I can't imagine how it...how you could possibly fit inside me," he said, blushing prettily. "It is rather...tight."

"You...?" Blaine managed, thinking of Kurt devoid of all clothing, prodding a finger between his cheeks.

"I...wanted to...to see," Kurt admitted. "I just... Do you know how?"

Blaine nodded again.

"It will hurt?" Kurt asked.

"I... Some," he said. "I tried once. To...to press inside. It's... It can feel nice."

"You... Do you want to try? With me?"

"I want everything with you," Blaine said. "I used my...my saliva."

Kurt shuddered. "Is that...sanitary?"

"You've had my tongue in your mouth, you know," Blaine said, amused.

Kurt chuckled nervously. "I suppose," he said. "Alright. How should I...?"

"I... just stay as you are and I'll... I'll kneel between your knees and just..."

"Okay," Kurt said, parting his knees.

Blaine swallowed and moved to the gap between Kurt's legs. "Alright," he said. "Bend your...your knees."

Kurt obliged him and Blaine slipped his first finger past Kurt's lips, much to his utter surprise.

"Just suck," he said.

Kurt did and Blaine could feel the tightening in his groin increasing. Finally, he pulled his finger from Kurt's mouth with a pop and then looked down. He hummed.

"Perhaps you could slide a cushion under your back," Blaine suggested.

Kurt's cheeks were reddening again and he slid a cushion under him. "Okay?"

"Perfect," Blaine said, with a weak smile. "Alright, I'm going to...now."

"Do it," Kurt said.

Blaine parted Kurt's cheeks with the sides of his hands to reveal the dusty, pink hole between. He rubbed over it with the wet finger and Kurt gasped quietly.

"Please tell me if you need me to stop."

Kurt mumbled something which resembled a 'yes' and then closed his eyes as Blaine continued to massage him there. After a little while, he pressed the tip of his finger inside, eyes on Kurt's face, which twisted.

"Am I hurting you?" Blaine asked.

"No," Kurt panted. "No, just... It's different. Don't stop, lovely."

Blaine kept going, finger moving slowly inside until soon, it was all the way in. He started to slide it back out and then back in again and Kurt breathed heavily, but did not protest.

"I'll try another finger now, if that suits," Blaine said.

"Yes," Kurt said. "Whatever needs to be done."

Blaine slid his fingers past his own lips this time, tasting Kurt on the first one, then he lowered his hand back down to slowly glide two fingers inside.

"My God," Kurt uttered.

Blaine hushed him. "Tell me if it becomes all too much, beauty."

Kurt nodded and then thrashed slightly, when Blaine began pumping them slowly. It was an odd and wonderful thing, to feel Kurt's body opening up to him in such a way. He had never felt so close to anyone in his entire life.

"Can you handle another?" Blaine asked, voice thick.

"Mm," Kurt said. "I... It's rather nice. I think. So strange, though."

Blaine smiled and kissed his knee. "I'm trying to make it nice for you, lover."

"Go on," Kurt begged.

Blaine got a third finger inside and soon his fingers were sliding quite easily in and out and at one point, he pressed further inside and Kurt's body jolted and he yelped loudly.

"What...?" Kurt asked, eyes wide and on Blaine.

"I'm...not sure," he said, slowly. "Should I...?"

Kurt nodded. Blaine pressed in again and searched out the tiny spot which had made Kurt jump and when he found it, it had the same effect.

"Is it...good?" Blaine asked.

"It is... It feels so... Goodness, Blaine," Kurt said, laughing quietly. "It feels as if you have touched my very soul."

Blaine smiled and pressed in again, experimentally and Kurt cried out.

"Please, no more," Kurt said. "I can't last a long time with such touches."

Blaine nodded and pumped his fingers twice more, before removing them entirely. Kurt whimpered at the loss, but he stopped when he saw Blaine's hand wrapping around his own hardness.

"I think..." Blaine began. "I need your mouth. Just so that it is...wet enough."

Kurt nodded. "Come here."

Blaine was still. Then he moved up the bed until his crotch was in line with Kurt's ear. Kurt twisted his neck around and opened his mouth wide, lips wet and swollen. Blaine inched closer and pressed himself inside.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine gasped, the wetness and heat so much. He had never felt such a thing. "Please, not so much."

"It's...strange," Kurt said, removing his mouth. "The taste."

Blaine bent and kissed his lips. "Do you think you're ready?"

"For you inside?" Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded.

"I want to be close to you," Kurt said. "I'm still not sure you'll fit, but let us try. Together."

Blaine smiled. "I do love you."

"And I, you, Blaine," Kurt told him, touching his knee.

Blaine moved down the bed and got back between Kurt's legs. It still looked so tight between Kurt's cheeks, but it had to work, didn't it? Blaine took himself in his hands and pressed the head to Kurt's hole.

"I know it will hurt, darling," Kurt told him. "I know it will. But it will get better, won't it?"

Blaine nodded. "It has to," he said. "I'll go slowly, lover."

Blaine pressed against Kurt's opening and then pushed inside, Kurt moaning under him.

"Please stop," Kurt cried, then when Blaine stilled, "No! Don't stop!"

Blaine let out a shaky breath and wiped at his sweaty brow. "I'm sorry," he said.

"No apologies," Kurt said. "Just... Go ahead."

Blaine nodded and then pressed inside some more and it was so, so tight and hot and unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt choked out. "Blaine, it hurts so."

"I know, lover, I know," Blaine said, bending to kiss Kurt's head. "Hold on, just... Almost."

Kurt hummed and Blaine pushed slowly, so slowly, the remainder of the way inside, until he was closer to Kurt than ever before. Blaine bent forward and pressed his chest to Kurt's. Kurt's eyes were closed and he was flushed all the way down his body.

"It hurts a lot?" Blaine asked.

"Quite a lot," Kurt said, one eye opening. "Please don't feel badly."

"I can't help it," Blaine said, kissing his eyelid. "Your eyes are wet with the beginning of tears."

"I know," Kurt said. "But I love you and I know we can push past this pain and love together."

Blaine nodded. "I won't move until you think you can handle it," he said.

Kurt was so hot and tight around him, almost painfully slow, and he was unsure of just how long he would be capable of lasting. They were flush against one another and sweating and hot and Kurt was breathing shakily against him.

"Kurt, if it is too much, we can stop," Blaine promised.

"No!" Kurt said, fast. "I think... Can you try to move for me?"

"You are sure?"

"Quite," Kurt said. "Please, darling."

Blaine nodded and kissed his lips sweetly, then so very slowly retracted his hips and Kurt clung to him, a loud cry escaping his throat.

"No, no, no, don't stop," Kurt said, with feverish haste. "Just... I'll push through. We'll get to a comfortable point."

Blaine looked uncertain, but did as Kurt wanted. He slid back inside and then back out again, hoping it was not too much, but Kurt's cries of pain slowed and soon he was panting in pleasure.

"Is it okay?" Blaine asked, slowly.

"It still does hurt," Kurt admitted, "but it feels good, too. Just... A little more and perhaps the pain will leave completely."

"I hope so," Blaine said, continuing the push and pull of his hips.

"How is it for you?"

"So amazing," Blaine told him, "but if it hurts you, I can't find good in it."

"It doesn't hurt so-oh!-so much," Kurt said. "Please enjoy it, Blaine."

"I will when you do."

Kurt's fingernails dug into his skin and his legs locked around him and soon he was pushing back to meet Blaine's thrusts. Blaine pressed hard inside and Kurt screamed. Blaine stilled.

"Oh, don't stop," Kurt whined. "That was... Blaine, that spot!"

Blaine began to thrust slowly again and tried to find the spot again and then he found an angle which struck it s perfectly that it had Kurt squealing in pleasure under him and it felt so very wonderful to feel such bliss together.

"I love you so," Kurt was saying. "Oh, Blaine."

"Kurt," Blaine choked out.

It was so much and Blaine could hardly keep himself together as he thrust hard and fast inside the other boy and then Kurt let out a loud cry and clenched deliciously around Blaine as he came between them, hot, wet, white stripes striking their chests and the sight of Kurt like this brought Blaine right over the edge and he came hot and hard inside Kurt.

They kept going for another few seconds and then Blaine collapsed against him and they lay there breathing heavily together. After what felt like a thousand years, Kurt met his eyes and then simply laughed happily, the sound like beautiful music.

"We are sticky," Kurt pointed out. "Disgusting."

"Mm, sticky, yes," Blaine said. "Disgusting? Never. You are the furthest thing from disgusting. Never have I seen such beauty as you when you hit release."

"Blaine!" Kurt said, scandalised.

"It is true," Blaine promised. "An angel," he said. "The beauty of an angel."

Kurt smiled and reached up to tuck Blaine's curls behind his ear. "You are so beautiful, too, you know," he said, in a whisper. "So beautiful."

"I love you such a great deal, lover," Blaine told him, kissing the tip of his nose.

"I love you," Kurt said. "Lover," he said, slowly. "It is true now. We are lovers."

"We've always been lovers," Blaine said. "We love so completely, you and I. We've been lovers our whole lives."

Kurt giggled. "Well, lover, I think we should clean ourselves and then fall right to sleep, for I am exhausted and bone-tired."

"I hurt you a lot?"

"No worries, darling," Kurt said. "I am doing fine."

"I'll slip out now," Blaine said, noting just how sensitive he felt. "I'll try to go slowly, so as not to hurt you more."

Kurt nodded and Blaine began easing his hips backwards. Kurt's eyes shut and then opened again, once Blaine was all the way out.

"Sorry," Blaine muttered.

"No apologies. I like you inside."

Blaine smiled. "I like me inside, too."

"Lovely," Kurt said, kissing his mouth. "Grab a washcloth and return to me."

Blaine nodded and went to the washroom to grab a cloth. He returned and Kurt exposed his red hole to him, so that he could help clean him up. Soon, they were clean, wetness drying on their skin and they climbed under the covers after burning out the lamp. They held on tight and fell to sleep, smiles on their faces, hearts happier than ever before.


It was a wonderful thing, to wake up next to Blaine. He slept so peacefully, face content and Kurt could not resist pressing a kiss to each of his eyelids as he slept under the light of the sun, skin kissed by it, glowing and beautiful.

Kurt turned his body and gasped at the very prominent ache between his cheeks, a reminder of the antics in which they had engaged the night before. Blaine's eyes opened to reveal his golden syrup eyes at the sound of Kurt's gasp.

"What is it?" he asked, alarmed.

"Nothing," Kurt promised. "Some pain from last night, but I am alright. You can go back to sleep."

Blaine yawned and smiled, then pulled Kurt close. "I want to wake like this all my life."

"As do I," Kurt said, heart aching. "I want us to spend forever together."

"I promise we shall."

"You can't promise that seriously."

"I promise," Blaine said, kissing Kurt's bare shoulder. "I will find a way to have you with me always."

"As your butler once you've married?"

"Kurt," Blaine said, hurt.

"Sorry," Kurt said, feeling awful. "I did not mean to sound so harsh. I just despise the idea of you and a girl, the idea of you with a girl in your bed and having children and..."

"I'll never have those things," Blaine said. "Do you want to know the reason? It is because I am with you always, lover. I will always love you and I always want you here with me. If I must tell my father the truth some day, then so be it. We'll run away together and spend our lives in a cottage by the sea, where we will make love and I will kiss your sweet lips as often as I wish. I'll hold your hand as we walk on the shore and I'll undress you beneath the moon and show the stars that all your beauty leaves them standing plain and mundane in comparison.

"I'll open you slowly and stay inside you for hours on end and then we will bathe together and fall asleep to the sound of the owls and the crickets and in the morning, we'll wake and make love again and we'll play music together and fall in love all over again. You are the true love of my life, Kurt Hummel. This is our future, beauty, do not ever think otherwise."

Kurt's eyes shone with tears of joy. "You are serious, Blaine?"

"Always with you," Blaine said, solemnly. "Always."


Another morning was spent exploring the curves of their bodies and once the clock struck twelve, they were forced to dress and bathe and retreat down the stairs to act as friends and wait to greet Blaine's parents when they returned when the clock struck one. They sat together, fingers entwined, as they read in the drawing room. And then, when the door chimed and they heard the footsteps of Schuester going towards the door, they dropped their hands and smiled secretively, before slipping quietly down the halls to say hello.

The day went by quickly and was spent playing tunes on the piano and talking quietly in the library and then after supper, visitors came and the boys were beckoned to the hall. They went downstairs to find Quinn Fabray and her parents standing there, looking stern, all except Quinn who looked sickly and upset.

"Blaine, you do not need to be here," Frederick Anderson said. "It is Kurt the Fabrays need to speak with."

Blaine looked to Kurt, who looked confused, too. "I think I'd like to stay," Blaine said. "If that is quite alright."

Mr. Fabray looked angered and Mrs Fabray only nodded. "Very well," Mr. Anderson said. "Kurt, Quinn has some news."

"News," Kurt repeated, looking at her, but she would not meet his gaze. "Quinn?"

"My daughter has been sick for some days," Mr. Fabray said. "She has been so very ill that my wife and I took it upon ourselves to call upon the services of Doctor Smythe. The doctor revealed to us that Quinn was not merely ill, no stomach upsets, or sicknesses, but that she is with child."

Both Kurt and Blaine's eyes went round as saucers.

"Kurt, Quinn has confessed that you are the father of her child," Frederick Anderson said.

Kurt went still and Blaine gaped next to him.

"Ex-excuse me?" Kurt said.

"They should never have been left alone!" Mrs Fabray said, then burst into tears and Mrs Anderson, who Kurt had not seen by the door, came to her and took her to the drawing room.

"This is... It's not true," Kurt said. "Quinn and I have never..."

"Mr. Hummel, are you calling my daughter a liar?" Mr. Fabray asked, one eyebrow tilting upwards.

"With all respect," Kurt began, "yes, I am."

"Kurt," Mr. Anderson said, in a warning tone.

"Could I have a moment alone with Quinn?" Kurt asked. "Blaine can stay with us, so that there is no cause for concern."

The adults exchanged a look, then Mr. Fabray nodded. "Very well, but be quick, we must make arrangements for the wedding."

"The wedding," Kurt said, shocked, but Mr. Fabray and Mr. Anderson disappeared into the drawing room, too.

"The music room," Blaine said. "Let's go to the music room."

They did just that and Quinn sat at the piano, looking distraught.

"Do you care to explain?" Kurt asked, arms folded.

"Is it true?" Blaine asked, looking at Kurt.

"What?" Kurt said, eyes wide. "Of course it isn't! All we've ever been is friends!"

"I'll understand," Blaine said. "I know it took me such a long time to show you my feelings."

"Blaine, I am not lying," Kurt said. "She's made it up!"

Quinn looked up at them, then. "Please don't hate me," she whispered.

Kurt paused. "I... Quinn, of course I don't hate you. I just don't understand."

"I can't tell them the truth," she said. "If they know who he is... Kurt, I can't tell them. He has been with so many other girls. He promised me he loved me and then we..." She covered her face with her hands. "He used me! If they know the truth, they'll think me even worse!"

Kurt was stuck to the spot and it was Blaine who went forward.

"Quinn," he said, firmly. "They want Kurt to marry you. You know he cannot do that."

"I didn't mean it to happen in such a fashion," she said. "They insisted that the doctor examine me and I tried so hard to resist, but they forced me! And when he told them what it was, well, they immediately assumed it was Kurt and I saw an opportunity and took it. I can't tel them the truth, I can't! They'll brand me a harlot!"

"You're not a harlot," Blaine said.

"Quinn, I can't marry you, you know," Kurt told her. "I've consecrated my relationship with Blaine now. Should you and I marry, more children will be expected and I cannot give them to you. I can't. I love him so, Quinn."

Blaine took Kurt's hand and Quinn looked between them.

"I wish I had the valiance to speak the truth, but I don't," she said. "Please, just... Give me some time. I promise I'll tell them, I just need some time."

"Quinn..." Blaine said, unsure.

"How long?" Kurt asked.

"A... A month!"

"Quinn," Kurt groaned.

"Kurt, I cannot put a time limit on it," she told him. "I'm so very afraid. They'll hate me if they know the truth. He's a baker."

"I'm the son of a farmer," Kurt pointed out.

"But you have been taken in by the Andersons," she said. "They like you well enough. They say your family is respectable. This boy, Noah, he has a wandering eye and wandering hands and he lays with many girls, sometimes two at once. If they know it is he they'll hate me so," she said, sadly. "They'll think me a worthless whore! They'll send me to a convent. I cannot live at a convent."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Blaine asked.

"I'll need some time to make a plan," Quinn said. "Until then, please pretend for me."

Kurt sighed. "Alright," he said. "But Quinn, if this gets out of hand I'll be forced to tell the truth myself."

"It won't, I swear it!" she said. "Thank you, Kurt. Thank you both. I owe you so much more than I'll ever be able to repay."

She slipped out of the room and went down the stairs leaving Kurt and Blaine alone. Kurt lifted his gaze to the other boy and Blaine opened his arms and enveloped him in them.

"Don't worry, my pretty," he said. "All will be well soon enough."


All was not well. Quinn Fabray allowed this pretence to go on for such a long time and Kurt knew not what to do. Wedding arrangements had been made and he'd been forced to sit as the Andersons and Fabrays made plans. They were to be wed in two weeks and Kurt felt bile rising in his throat at the thought of Quinn never revealing the truth.

Kurt and Blaine had not made love since the very first time. Kurt had been plagued with worry and with Kurt's anguish came Blaine's despair and they spent many hours wrapped up together, simply comforting one another and promising the world.

Kurt cried himself to sleep some nights and Blaine would hear him and hold him until the sun was high in the sky and then he would kiss his lips and slip back to his own room, so that no one was any the wiser.


Quinn Fabray was a terrible person. She could feel the life growing inside her, this life which had caused so much pain to those around her. She knew it was through her own fault that everything had gone so horribly wrong and she did not know how to mend it.

She thought of Kurt and Blaine sometimes, of the kindness they showed her and the endless love they had for one another and in two week's time, Kurt would be forced into a future with her, all because she was weak and could not tell the entire truth.

Her stomach had grown now, a little rounder than she would have liked and her parents insisted she stay home from church, feigning illness. One Sunday morning, after her mother and father had left, she took a carriage to town and told the driver she would find her own way home. She walked to the baker's, bonnet covering her face and when she didn't see him there, she crept into the back and that was where she found him. A dark haired girl sat in his lap, her skirts bunched up, the top of her dress undone to reveal a corset, also partly undone. His hands were all over her and she was whispering in his ear.

Quinn felt sick to her stomach. She barged right inside and the girl almost fell off of him, breasts showing. She quickly rushed to cover herself up.

"Quinn Fabray," Noah said, a slow smile creeping over his lips. "Santana was just about to start work. Come here and show me your love for me."

"I have no love for you, Noah Puckerman," she said, angrily, watching as the other girl shot her a glare before slipping out through the door. "And neither does the baby you put inside of me."

Puckerman looked stunned. "A baby?"

"Yes," she said, shaking with anger. "I am with child."

"God," he said. "Your parents? They know?"

"They think I have been intimate with a friend, a boy with whom I feigned courtship and he loves another, but is being forced into marriage with me."

"I'll marry you," Noah said, much to Quinn's surprise. "I will."

"I can't marry you," she said. "You're a peasant, a baker. My parents will skin me alive if I tell them."

"And this friend," Puck said. "Do you suppose you'll marry him?"

"I cannot," she said. "He loves another and...they love him back. I cannot tear them apart."

"Then marry me," he said, standing and taking her hands in his. He was so incredibly handsome and charming. "We'll run away together."

Quinn blinked. "You're serious."

"Very," he said. "My brother, Jacob, can run the bakery. I'll take my savings and we'll go west. California, maybe. We'll have a reverend marry us and I'll build us a house and we'll raise our child together."

Quinn smiled at the possibility.

"Say yes, Quinn," Puck urged. "Say yes."

"Do you promise there will be no other girls?"

"Why would I need other girls when I have the most beautiful girl in the world?"

Quinn laughed. "Yes," she said. "Take me away, take me away, Noah."


Kurt sat by the large window, staring blankly out at the sun on the grass. He looked angelic, but troubled and broken and so terribly fragile. Blaine hovered by the door, a frown on his face, eyes on Kurt's profile. A circle of radiant light surrounded Kurt's head, almost like a halo. Blaine sighed, heart feeling as if it was growing in his chest. Kurt's head turned and he was looking at Blaine in an instant.

"I didn't hear you come in," he said.

Blaine smiled. "I was just watching you, lover," he said, taking a few strides forth until he was at Kurt's side. He reached down to run his fingers through his silky locks. "Such trouble amidst your beauty," he whispered.

Kurt leaned into his touch and sighed. "I worry," he said. "I am at a loss."

Blaine kissed the top of his head. "Father is leaving soon," he said. "Mother will go to bed early. Come to my room and spend tonight with me. Not for that," he said, when he saw the flash behind Kurt's eyes. "Just to be close. I've missed you near me, beauty."

Kurt smiled and kissed Blaine's fingers. "Yes," he said. "Let us go now."


Blaine's fingers traced the curves of his back, the tips sliding smoothly over the bumps of his spine and stopping at the cleft of his backside. He repeated this motion over and over and Kurt felt calm and serene for the first time in a long while. They were both naked, lying close together, hands clasped between them.

"Could you kiss me?" Kurt asked. "Just to rid the demons from my mind?"

Blaine smiled and pulled his face close and pressed their lips together. Kurt slid his tongue past his own teeth and then Blaine's and they found themselves in a passionate embrace, kissing slowly, yet frantically. They were melded together, hot skin against hot skin, racing heart against racing heart, soul to soul.

"I'll never leave you," Kurt promised, a single tear leaving his eye. "Promise you'll never let me."

"Never," Blaine swore. "Never, ever, ever, ever."


Persistent thumping caused the boys to wake with a start. Blaine blinked and Kurt sat up quickly, eyes wide and breath catching. Blaine place a hand over Kurt's to urge that he remain calm.

"Blaine!" his father shouted, still hammering on the door. "Open this door at once! Kurt has disappeared and so, too, has Quinn Fabray!"

Blaine widened his eyes and looked to Kurt, who was still with fright.

"Redress," Blaine said, mind turning madly. "Redress and lay back down. We can pretend you fell asleep here last night."

"Blaine..."

"It will be quite alright, love," he whispered, pressing a single kiss to the corner of Kurt's mouth. "Just do as I instructed. And quickly."

They did just that, quietly, Mr. Anderson still thumping and shouting for Blaine to open the door. When they had dressed, Kurt lay back on the bed and shut his eyes and Blaine stood and went to the door.

"Father?" he said, groggily, pulling to clasp open. "What is the time?"

"Why didn't you open up?"

"I was sleeping," he said.

"Kurt is gone."

Blaine lifted both eyebrows in faux surprise. "He...? Oh! No, father, look!" He turned and gestured behind him. "I remember now. Yes, we were reading here last night. We must have fallen asleep. Goodness, my back aches."

Mr. Anderson looked around at Kurt's still form on the bed. "Oh," he said, relaxing visibly. "Mr. Fabray stopped by. Quinn has disappeared. He thought Kurt might know of her location."

"I'll wake him at once, but I've been with him most of the time. I can't imagine he knows more than I."

"Well, do wake him anyway," Mr. Anderson urged. "Just to be sure. Inform me if he tells you anything, but it is early, so you may as well go back to sleep."

"Yes, father," Blaine said.

Mr. Anderson left and Blaine closed and latched the door again. He turned to Kurt, who had sat upright.

"Where on earth could she be?" he asked.

"I don't know," Blaine said, sitting down and taking the other boy's hand. "We'll look for her. We will. Once morning light comes, we'll leave and we will look."

"I hope she is safe," Kurt said, allowing Blaine to pull him close. "I have been rather stern with her of late, but I do like her, Blaine."

"I know you do," Blaine said, touching a kiss to Kurt's forehead. "She knows it, too. Sleep now, angel. I love you so."

"Angel?" Kurt enquired, clinging tightly to Blaine's body.

"You always resemble an angel," Blaine supplied.

Kurt giggled. "I love you, too, lovely. More than I am capable of expressing."


They woke with the rise of the sun and dressed and washed, before having a bite to eat and then heading to town. They walked together through the hustle and bustle and then stopped when they had reached the tiny bakery in the centre.

"Do you know him?" Blaine asked.

Kurt shook his head. "He is called Noah. This is all the information I have."

They walked inside together and a girl with shining black hair turned her gaze on them.

"Can I help you?" she asked. She had an accent.

"We're looking for Noah," Blaine said. "Is he here?"

"No, but you can come through and see my loaves if you wish," she said, with a smile and a wink.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Excuse me, miss, but this is of extreme importance. A girl has disappeared and we have knowledge that this Noah was involved with her once."

"You mean the blonde one," the girl said, with a roll of her dark eyes. "She came here. She was angry. Puck had me leave and he had not even ejaculated."

"Oh, Lord," Blaine said, quietly.

"You saw her?" Kurt asked. "You saw Quinn? When?"

The girl sighed. "Do you want bread or not?"

"Please tell us," Blaine said. "Her family misses her."

"She is with child, she said," the girl told them. "I listened in. They have run away. To California, I think. They plan to marry and build a house. Her family won't want her home. She is little more than a brazen whore."

Kurt took it upon himself to look offended. "How dare you!"

"Kurt," Blaine said. "Look, miss...?"

"Santana Lopez," she informed him.

"Miss Lopez," Blaine repeated. "How many coins will it take for your information?"

"Just once, handsome," she said, with a sly grin. "One coin in my very moist well."

"God," Kurt spat, frustrated.

"I'm afraid this is not an option," Blaine said, calmly. "Is there something else?"

The girl looked defeated. She sighed again and looked around, then beckoned them closer with a finger. They took a step.

"My lover has been promised to another," she told them. "She is to be married in two days."

"She?" both Kurt and Blaine asked.

Santana narrowed her eyes at them.

"Sorry, sorry," Blaine said. "We don't mean to appear rude. It is just... We don't know others...others like us."

The girl's eyes flashed. "You two...?"

Kurt nodded. "Us two."

She mumbled something in Spanish. "Okay. I need to free her from him. The man she is to wed, he has as many years as my abuelo. My grandfather. She is unhappy and she cries whenever I pay her visits."

"What can we do?" Blaine asked.

"I want to kill him," Santana said, fire in her eyes.

"We can't kill for you, Miss Lopez," Blaine informed her.

"I don't ask that of you, fool," she snapped. "I said I wanted to, not that I planned to. I want you to help me hide her. I cannot go to fetch her myself today, for I must work and collect my pay at the end. I want to take her far away. Help me and I will feed you all the information you seek."


"I cannot believe we are doing this," Kurt said, following Blaine across the bridge. "This is abduction."

"If she is unhappy it will be to help her," Blaine said. "Don't you want to help them both?"

Kurt nodded. "I do," he confirmed. "I just cannot see this ending well."

"That's the one," Blaine said, gesturing to the mansion across the field. "Pierce Manor."

Kurt sighed. "My gut instinct tells me that this will end badly."

"Only one way to know for sure."

They strode to the gate and slipped inside and then walked the grounds until they had come to the garden. A girl sat on a white swing. She was blonde and pretty and wore a pale, blue dress. She looked up at their entrance.

"Miss Pierce?" Kurt asked.

She nodded. "Are you princes? Have you come to rescue me?"

Blaine smiled. "In a way, I suppose. Miss..."

Miss Lopez's voice sounded in his head. Speak simply and clearly or she will fail to understand.

"Santana sent us," he corrected. "She said you are expecting her?"

The girl—Brittany—nodded. "She is not here."

"She had to work. She sent us for you," Kurt told her. "She wishes to hide you so that you do not have to marry Mr. Ryerson."

Brittany's eyes lit up and she grinned happily. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," Blaine nodded. "Will you come with us now?"

"I promise we are genuine," Kurt added. "Santana told us to tell you that you are her songbird and that you would know that she sent us if we did."

"I do!" she said, standing up. "My beautiful, singing dolphin has come through!" she exclaimed. "I knew she would!"

Blaine and Kurt smiled at her. "We need to leave right away," Blaine said. "Can we go through the woods so that we aren't spotted?"

Brittany nodded. "Come with me, pretty princes!"

They shrugged and followed her through the trees. She skipped like a faerie and sang quietly as she went and then they stopped once they had reached a clearing.

"We'll go to Santana now," Blaine said, taking Kurt's hand and pulling him after him, Brittany following behind.

"You are holding hands," Brittany noticed. "Do you love as Santana and I love?"

"Yes," Kurt told her, marvelling in being able to reveal their love to others who would not judge.

"I'm an orphan," she said, out of the blue. "I live with my aunt and uncle. They want me to marry the man in pink. I wish only to love Santana, but she allows her fear to overcome her. She lets it control her life. She pretends not to feel and so spends much time with boys, but she is good at heart. She loves me completely and we just want to be together. Two dolphins in a sea of delight."

Kurt smiled. "I'm an orphan, too," he said. "Blaine, here, his family took me in. We fell in love and we are quite aware of the strain society puts on such a union, but love is love, Brittany. We—all four of us—will find a way."

Brittany nodded. "I like you both," she said. "My brave, brave knights."


They waited by the large tree, where Santana had instructed and sat hand in hand as Brittany made daisy chains. Santana arrived five minutes later than she had promised and they got to their feet to greet her. Before they could speak to her, she embraced Brittany and they smiled happily, so in love.

"Thank you," Santana said. "I have a horse just beyond the hill. I will take her away with me and we'll be free." She reached inside the front of her dress, hand digging in her breast. She pulled out an envelope. "She left this, your friend. The blonde."

Kurt took it from her.

"She said you'd come," she went on. "She described you as pixie like and kind."

Kurt smiled sadly. He missed Quinn. "Thank you," he said.

"Yes, thank you," Blaine repeated. "I... We wish you both the utmost of good luck in the future."

"We wish you the same," Santana said.

"Goodbye, my princes," Brittany said, as Santana linked their pinkies together. She leaned closer and held a daisy chain in her grasp for Kurt to take.

"Bye, Brittany," Kurt said, taking it from her.

"Good luck," Blaine told them, with a wave.

They walked away and disappeared over the hill and Kurt tore at the letter.

Dearest Kurt,
I've left. I'm so sorry for the fibs I told and I am sorry for the pain I caused you. My parents will want to see this letter and I want them to know that I love them. Tell them the truth, Kurt, that you do not have anything to do with me being with child. Tell them of the baker with whom I have run away. I do love him, you know, despite my uncertainty. He loves me, too, and we have planned a life together, somewhere far from here. I will write in the future, when I know it is alright to do so. I simply could not face the possibility of being sent to a convent, or to live with a distant relative, or something of the sort. I thank you, Kurt, for being my best friend in the world. Thank you for being patient with me and I know you will be happy and successful in your future. Say thank you, too, to Blaine, for being there also. Good luck to you both and we will see each other again, I am sure of it. Goodbye and love unconditionally.

Your friend,
Quinn Fabray.

Blaine took the letter from him and read it, then wrapped Kurt up in his arms and held him there until the sun began to fade. They returned to the Anderson Manor to inform Blaine's father and of course, the Fabrays, then they retired to their separate bedrooms, until the night had overtaken the day and they slid together beneath the sheets and slept soundly, a simple daisy chain sitting on the bedside cabinet, a small, seemingly meaningless gesture, but filled with such extreme hope.


"Finn Hudson, meet Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel," Rachel said, beaming, as she stood next to the very tall boy.

She had come to the Anderson Manor in order to introduce her new beau to her friends.

"Pleased to finally meet you," Blaine said.

"We've heard quite a lot about you," Kurt added.

"And I have heard quite a lot about both of you," Finn Hudson said, with a crooked grin. "Rachel has told me of your romance."

Kurt and Blaine turned to Rachel with stunned expressions.

"Oh, Finn is quite alright with it," Rachel said, waving a hand.

"Rachel, this is not information which can be made known to the public," Kurt hissed.

"I know, I know," she said. "But we are madly in love and I feel we must tell each other everything."

"I assure you that your secret is quite safe with me," Finn swore.

Kurt and Blaine looked at one another and then smiled together. Perhaps the world was not entirely hopeless, for there were some good people, people who believed that everyone should love as they wished and that gave them hope.

"Thank you," Kurt said.

"For?" Finn asked.

"For becoming another bright flame in the darkest of tunnels," Blaine said.


That night, they made love for the second time. The Andersons had left again to visit acquaintances a distance away and Kurt pulled Blaine down the cold halls by the hand and then pressed a finger to his lips and tugged him inside his room. He clasped the door shut tightly and turned to Blaine. He went up close to him, so close that he could probably count each and every dusty lash canopying his eyes.

"You are so lovely," Kurt told him, before sealing their lips together in a sweet kiss. "So, so lovely."

Blaine closed the gap between their lips once more and fought the urge to gasp when Kurt began easing him backwards to the bed. Kurt pressed him into the soft sheets and kissed him once more, before standing back a trifle. Blaine watched with wide eyes and parted lips as Kurt began unbuttoning his own clothing. The blush was spreading over his cheeks and up the back of his pale, slender neck and as the buttons slipped through their loops, more skin was revealed and Blaine saw that the blush did not stop at his neck.

Blaine did not sleep in fear of Kurt shrinking back in embarrassment. He watched as the white satin fell to the floor and as he lifted his eyes to study Kurt's beauty, he caught his breath in his throat, because Kurt's hands were fumbling to undo the trousers he wore. Soon Kurt stepped out of those and was left in his underpants. Blaine could not tear his eyes from the rather prominent bulge in the front.

Kurt leaned forward and Blaine could feel his hot breath on his ear.

"Take them from me," he whispered.

Blaine swallowed thickly and reached for the waistband. Kurt was shivering beneath his touch and Blaine pressed a single kiss to his lower stomach in hopes of calming him, but it did not seem to help. Blaine tugged the material south, releasing Kurt's erection. He stepped out of the pants and climbed into Blaine's lap.

"Is it too much?" he asked, burying his face in Blaine's neck.

"Never," Blaine said, holding him close. "I love every side of you."

"Will you strip for me?"

Blaine nodded. Kurt climbed to the side and sat on the bed, hands in his lap. He watched as Blaine got to his feet and undressed, fingers undoing clasps and buttons clumsily. Finally, he was entirely nude and Kurt smiled at him.

"I want to have you inside again," Kurt said, cheeks reddening further.

Blaine nodded and kissed his cheek. "Anything for you."

Moments later, Kurt was on his stomach, face buried in the pillows as Blaine opened his up slowly and carefully, pressing hot, reassuring kisses to the nape of his neck every time he cried out from the slight burn that his fingers caused him. Soon he was ready and Kurt waited as Blaine lined himself up and pressed gently inside. It was not as painful this time. There was still a slight struggle, but it didn't take long for them to find a steady rhythm, bodies pressed tightly together and moving in perfect synchronisation.

Blaine came first, filling Kurt with his release and then extracted himself carefully. Kurt reached down to touch himself, to stroke himself to climax, but Blaine caught his hand in its motion.

"What...?"

"Shh," Blaine uttered. "Turn over."

Kurt did as Blaine instructed, face twisting at the wetness between the cheeks of his bottom. Blaine smiled and watched him settle on his back, hard cock pressed flush against his stomach. Kurt blinked quickly, so beautiful as his lashes fanned out over the shining irises of his cyan blue eyes.

"Let me try something new?" Blaine asked, touching a hand to his lover's cheek.

Kurt nodded. "Anything you wish," he said, pressing his hand to the back of Blaine's and then positioning it so that he could kiss his palm.

Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's swollen lips and then pressed him back again. He pushed Kurt's knees apart and climbed between them, then bent so that he was close to Kurt's erection. He could feel Kurt's eyes on him, curious and shy.

"Still okay?" Blaine asked, glancing up.

Kurt nodded. "I said anything."

Blaine kissed the inside of his thigh and took Kurt's cock in his hand and then pushed his mouth down over it. He began sucking gently, enjoying the sound of Kurt's moans and gasps under him. He used his tongue to press inside the slit, tasting Kurt's precome and swallowing it down. Kurt's fingers found their way into his dark curls and began tugging and rubbing and it wasn't long before he was writhing with pleasure. Blaine reached under his thighs to steady him, but his movements caused Blaine's hand to slip a little further and he found himself touching the wet stickiness that was leaking from Kurt's hole.

Blaine continued sucking on Kurt and he slid a finger between his cheeks, almost experimentally, and found his wet, stretched hole and when he slid it inside, Kurt's body surged upwards and he came with Blaine's name on his lips. Blaine was surprised at first, but swallowed all of Kurt's release and then he slipped away and found something to clean Kurt up. Minutes later, they climbed inside the bed and held onto one another so tightly, as if they were so afraid of losing each other to the dark night ahead.

They did not lose one another, however. They woke in the morning, still holding on and they made love again with the sun on their skin and the birds singing their happy tune.


Weeks passed without event and the two lovers spent every waking hour in one another's company. They held hands in the day and held each other at night and kissed beneath the light of the sun and the glow of the moon and two people could not have been more in love.

No one new discovered their romance in those weeks and they remained careful and kept their wits about them, for the wrong person discovering them together would mean such awful things for them.

Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson visited sometimes. Sometimes Miss Berry visited by herself, other times she had Finn with her. They were kind and fun and so obviously in love that it made the boys smile and wish them well. Rachel told them of her engagement one sunny afternoon and they spent the day together singing and enjoying each other's company.

The first letter from Quinn arrived on the last day of those two weeks. Kurt was on his back, blissed out and tired, his body hot and sweaty from the things he and Blaine had just done. Blaine had his head on Kurt's stomach, lips kissing his skin lazily every once in a while. Kurt's hand was in Blaine's hair, playing with his silky curls and Blaine was smiling up at him, watching him through half-lidded, golden eyes. Words were not necessary, they spoke with the touches of their fingertips and the glint in their eyes.

It was calm and serene and beautiful and then the door flung open, Blaine having forgotten to clasp the lock shut, for Kurt had seduced him and he had been able to think of little else than touching the beautiful boy. The two boys froze in place and Blaine's father stood there with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Finally, they scurried to cover naked flesh, faces flushing and hearts beating manically in their chests.

Mr. Anderson swore quietly and dropped a white envelope on Blaine's dresser.

"This... This arrived addressed to you both," he said, before closing the door behind him and going away.

"Don't cry," Blaine begged, taking Kurt's hands. "Please, please, please don't cry. I can't bear to see you sad."

But Kurt cried and Blaine, wrapping him up in his embrace, found himself crying, too. They wept together under the sheets, naked bodies pressed together, until they fell asleep, nightmares, instead of dreams, filling their uneasy minds.


Kurt and Blaine.
Hello, dear friends! Noah and I have ourselves a charming home in the woods. Our child is growing all the time and I am often tired and cannot wait for his or her arrival. I fear giving birth, but I know it will be worth it when the child is here. Noah has acquired a job at the mill in town and it pays well. I still have some money I took with me from home, so we are not struggling in the least.
How are you? I will not ask of your romance, for I know you are still in love and happy. I think of you both often and I wish that the world was accepting of your love. I know that you will remain so forever, so I do not worry. I hope you are both well and perhaps some day you will both visit us here. I would love your company, for despite my happiness, I am often lonely. I talk sometimes to the daughter of Noah's employer, but she is much younger than I and we have so little in common. It would be nice to see your faces again.
I will write again soon!
Your friend, who misses you,
Quinn Fabray.


"Do you mean it?" Kurt asked, holding Blaine's hands tightly in his own. "You are willing to do this for us?"

"Of course," Blaine whispered. "I would go to the ends of the earth for us."

"It is settled then," Kurt said, falling into Blaine's open arms. "We leave at dawn."


Blaine knew little of hitching up a team and attaching a wagon, but Kurt had been taught how to do so at an early age. Blaine's father had not returned after the first time and they gathered a few necessities and climbed to the wagon in the pale light of the rising sun. All was quiet as the residents of the manor were still fast asleep. The boys took one last look at the place, before riding out of the grounds, hand in hand, the clip-clop of the horses' hooves the only sound for miles. They rode out of town in complete silence and did not stop until they had gotten far from their home.

They stopped some hours later to eat and rest the horses, but started out again less than an hour afterwards. Nightfall came and they stopped in a meadow. They tied the team to a tree and huddled together beneath the wagon, the light of the fire in their eyes. It was the first time they were intimate with one another with all of nature surrounding them and it was exciting and frightening and wonderful all at once. They fell asleep and woke with the sound of the birds. Kurt caught some fish and they ate breakfast, before setting out again.

It took two full days for them to arrive in a town and it happened to be Kurt's former home. They spent a night in the hotel on the outskirts and then climbed the wagon again and kept going.

Kurt stopped the horses a little outside the town and Blaine furrowed his eyebrows in question, but Kurt just smiled and climbed down and offered Blaine a hand. He took it and Kurt pulled him through the trees until they had reached a small hill. He took him further inside and then stopped at a couple of wooden crosses in the ground.

"Burt Hummel."

"Elizabeth Hummel."

Blaine understood then. They sat together, hand in hand and Kurt cried quietly in Blaine's arms. Soon, he sniffled and wiped at his eyes and then sat forward.

"Father," he said, quietly. "Mother. You remember Blaine, don't you?"

Blaine took a deep breath. "Hello," he whispered.

"I miss you both," Kurt said. "So much sometimes that it feels as though I am breaking from the inside out. For a long time I thought that I would never be happy again, but then I met Blaine."

Kurt smiled at him.

"He has made me happier than I ever believed I could be," he went on. "I wonder sometimes what you would have thought of us, of me and Blaine and our love. I wonder if you would hate me for it, but I can't find it in me to believe that you would. I think you'd accept us, that you would love me anyway. I think you would love Blaine, too. I do. I cannot imagine a life without him.

"Mother, you thought of Blaine's father as a son. He is angry now, because he found us together. Please give him the strength to understand and to forgive us. Please."

Blaine held him tighter.

"I know that this world is not yet ready for a love such as ours, but I hope that someday it will be. Even if we are not alive to see it. I hope that we can survive the world and still love completely. I hope that nothing harmful will come of us. Protect us, mother and father, for I cannot bear to think of any harm coming to Blaine. He is all I have now. He is all I want.

"We are going to see our friend Quinn. We may start a life there together and I just... I wish I could speak to you once more, just to know we have your blessing. I love you both and I lost you. I love Blaine and the world threatens to take him from me. Please help me. Please, if you can, help me so that nothing and no one takes another someone I love from me. I will break should that happen. I will be unmendable and miserable."

Blaine's heart ached in his chest at Kurt's words. He pressed a kiss to his temple and wiped his tears away with his thumb.

"I wish you were here," Kurt whispered. "But if it is within your power at all, watch over us and keep us safe and together. All we want to do is love," Kurt said, sadly. "We don't know where we will end up, but as long as we can love each other, we will be alright."

"You could come home," a voice said and the boys swung around quickly.


"Fa-father?" Blaine exhaled, hand grasping Kurt's.

Frederick Anderson stood there, looking awkward.

"I knew you would be here," he said.

"But..." Blaine paused. "We did not even know we would be here."

Mr. Anderson nodded. "You did not have to run like that, you know."

"We..."

"Blaine," his father said. "I was surprised. I should not have been, but it was not what I was expecting, but I never suggested that you would not be welcome at home."

"But...Kurt..."

"Is a part of our family now," Frederick said. "You know that. He has been since his father's death."

"Oh," Blaine said, confused.

"Mr. Anderson," Kurt spoke up. "We did not know what to do. We thought you were unhappy with us."

"I'm not unhappy," Mr. Anderson said. "I am...shocked, but not... You could have been hurt coming all this way. You should have come to me with your concerns."

Blaine looked up. "Father, I love Kurt, you know."

"I know," Mr. Anderson said. "I know that he, too, loves you. I heard him speaking to his parents."

The boys stayed quiet. Mr. Anderson came closer and sat down near by.

"I used to think I loved your mother, you know," he told Kurt. "It was a misjudgement of feelings on my part."

"I do not merely think that I love Kurt, father," Blaine pointed out.

"Oh, I was not implying such a thing," Mr. Anderson said. "What I mean to say is that Kurt's mother was important to me and he is her son. I can understand you loving him, Blaine. I...thought you might, when you refused the company of all the girls you visited with, but I never allowed myself to think it true, for I worry for you both. I worry for the things you might endure for your love."

Blaine was quiet, then asked, "You accept us?"

Mr. Anderson nodded. "You are my son," he said. "And Kurt is the son of the woman who was like a mother to me, the only mother I have ever known. I wish for you both to be happy. If your happiness comes from loving one another, then that is how it is."

Kurt smiled. "You mean that, Mr. Anderson?"

"I mean that, Kurt," Frederick said. "Now, if you both agree, we should start home while the sun is still up."

Mr. Anderson smiled and got to his feet, then turned around to walk back through the trees. Blaine stood and Kurt stood with him.

"Father," Blaine called.

Mr. Anderson turned back to them and Blaine wavered a moment, then moved forward and hugged his father, something he hadn't done since he was a small child. Kurt watched from where he stood and then Mr. Anderson caught his eye and opened an arm for him to come forward. Kurt went closer and allowed Mr. Anderson to pull him into the embrace. Blaine slipped one arm around Kurt and squeezed his side and they stood there, all three of them, for a long time, before heading back out together to set back home.


Quinn wrote to them to tell them of her daughter's birth. She and Noah called her Beth and she promised to send a photo with her next letter. Rachel and Finn's wedding was a huge success and Kurt and Blaine held hands beneath the table during the entire reception. Afterwards, they headed home and Blaine could see the sadness in Kurt's eyes and he knew just what troubled him. He left Kurt in his room and went to find his father.

Kurt waited for Blaine to return and when he did, they did not go right to bed as he had expected them to. Instead, Blaine took his hand and took him down the stairs and out into the garden beneath the stars. Mr. and Mrs Anderson were out there, with Miss Pillsbury, the maid, Mrs Rose, the cook, and Schuester, the butler. The maid and the butler were holding hands which was new and made Kurt smile.

"What is happening here? Kurt asked of Blaine who only grinned in response.

Blaine pulled him to the small fountain, surrounded by the blood, red roses and held his hands in his, the others watching, secretive smiles on their faces. Blaine smiled at Kurt and took a deep breath.

"I have seen the sadness on your face," Blaine told him. "I know it is not because you are unhappy, but that it has to do with the lack of acceptance society has for love like ours. I know that the wedding today set such thoughts in your head and this is why we are here. I have gathered Miss Pillsbury, Mr. Schuester, Mrs Rose and, of course, dear mother and father out here with us, because you and I are to have a wedding of our own."

Kurt's eyes went wide and he smiled. "What?"

Blaine nodded. "I love you and if it were allowed, I would marry you. Since it is not allowed, this will have to do. If you accept of course." Blaine paused. "You do accept, don't you, beauty?"

Kurt chuckled. "Of course I accept!"

Blaine grinned and kissed his cheek. "We do not have a reverend or a preacher of any kind, but Mrs Rose has kindly offered to stand in as a replacement."

Mrs Rose stepped forward. "This here ain't a weddin' like any I've e'er been to," she said. "So it's only right that we do it special."

Kurt smiled and whispered the words, "Thank you."

Mrs Rose touched his arm. "You are more in love than any couple I ever saw. You deserve to be married. Love each other forever, I know you will."

Mrs Rose told them what to say and they repeated the vows, tears in their eyes. When she pronounced them married they kissed sweetly and Blaine whispered in his ear.

"I'll get you a ring," he promised. "A symbol of forever."

"I do not need a ring to know we are forever, lovely," Kurt said, wiping a stray tear.

Blaine smiled and they held hands. Mr. Anderson stepped forward and patted them both on the back, grinning. Mrs Anderson stood next to him.

"I believe Mrs Rose has a cake in the kitchen," she said. "Let us go inside and continue this wedding!"

The boys watched as everyone went inside, but they lingered there beneath the stars. They turned to face one another. Blaine touched a hand to Kurt's cheek.

"I love you, pretty," he said, in a hushed tone.

"I love you," Kurt said, sliding an arm around Blaine's hip.

Blaine could hardly believe that his parents and the staff accepted their love so easily. His mother had been surprised at first, but his father had talked her into coming to terms with it. They would not always find it so easy, they knew, but to have such support from their loved ones meant the world and the stars.

"My heart beats only for you," Blaine promised.

Kurt smiled and touched a hand to Blaine's chest to feel his beating heart, then took Blaine's hand and pressed it to his own.

"And mine for you, my love," Kurt told him.

Blaine leaned forward and caught the other boy's lips with his own and they stayed there like that under the glow of the luminous moon and the twinkle of the silver stars and they felt the smiles of Burt and Elizabeth Hummel all around them.

Eventually, they broke their kiss, but held hands as they went inside to attend their wedding party, something they never thought they would have, but grateful and happy that they did. The world was far from perfect, but sometimes, when they were together, they felt as if it was.


So that's it lol. I'll update Frozen by Desire soon, if anyone is wondering. Oh, and if anyone has any questions about anything, whether it be language or meanings or anything that isn't clear about the era or anything at all, message me. My tumblr is likechildreninafairytale.

Let me know what you thought :)