likesboys | wherever you go, you can always come home

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wherever you go, you can always come home

So, the terrifying thing about having a first date that isn't limited by the constraints of Ohioan society and school schedules is that Kurt has no idea what to wear. In fact, he's starting to wonder how he even managed to pick anything at all back home for their early dates, because the amount of fretting he's making over every detail is borderline absurd. He gave Blaine the instruction to pick something that's relatively easy to move in, but the fact of the matter is that for Kurt, that statement applies to practically everything he wears. He can move easily, even if it's uncomfortable — the sacrifices made for fashion, after all.

The overarching theme seems to be that he needs to dress to impress. Slimming outfits are key. Clothes that complement his complexion, clothes that make his ass look fantastic, clothes that aren't too easy access, but aren't just layers upon layers. (It feels silly, after all, to be wearing so many layers when they've already made out when hardly dressed at all.) In the end, Kurt settles on an inspired red and black silk shirt and tight black jeans, complete with asymmetrical black leather jacket for the duration of the outdoor walk.

Beyond that, there are other things to prepare as well. Making sure that as many of the locks in the theater are unlocked as possible, save for the entrance, because the last thing that Kurt wants to do is spend overly much time jiggling doorknobs. Hiding away little surprises on the stage, and a basket of food and sparkling cider on the catwalk. Walking more than a few times down its length, just to make sure that it's secure. And, perhaps most importantly of all, venturing out to one of the florist shops in the area, cutting a robust bouquet of roses and wrapping them carefully with green ribbon.

In the end, in spite of everything, Kurt ends up at Blaine's door exactly on time, trying to will away the flush on his face as he knocks on the door. Praying, almost, that this goes well.

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Quieting further still, Kurt bites down on his lower lip, not sure how to say it — that 'maybe' isn't enough, that they need to be sure. But the bit of space that they have now helps, Kurt taking a deep breath and feeling a coolness trickle down his nerves like so much water. He crouches quickly to grab the basket — if he doesn't keep it on his person, after all, Kurt knows that it's possible he'll leave it behind, and leaving food in a theater to go bad is just an absolute travesty — before catching up with Blaine, taking slow, deep, even breaths all the while.

"One of those," he nods quickly, before he can even process what's happening, eyes lingering on the matte gold and intricate designs all around them. His free hand lingers by his cheek for a second, feeling his own temperature, willing it to go down. "But only if you're sure, Blaine."

His last sentence comes out a little tremulous, and only then, only once the words are uttered does Kurt realize just how much he's putting on the line. And how much it could hurt, depending on how Blaine reacts.

There's a note to Kurt's voice that catches Blaine's attention and he glances over at him. But Kurt isn't looking at him, his focus straight ahead as they make their way off the stage and down the side aisle towards the back. Blaine is taking a wild guess that they're headed in the right direction, but he trusts Kurt to steer him there if need be.

"I'm sure," he says, though he finds himself wondering now that Kurt maybe isn't. And why it is Kurt is holding himself back.

Lips curling into a frown, Blaine moves the can of whipped cream to his other hand so he can find Kurt's with the other. "But we don't have to," he says, slowing a little as they near the back stairs. "I kind of, uh... I don't know. Everything here is so amazing, everything you've done. Whatever we do, even if it's just finish our dinner and leave, it's perfect. I couldn't have asked for a better evening."

Blaine's hand is still cold from the can of whipped cream, and the contact quickly draws a shiver from Kurt, who immediately snaps back to attention. Helplessly, he shakes his head and draws closer, threading their fingers together as Kurt drops a quick press of his lips to Blaine's shoulder. In some ways, Kurt's pretty sure that there's just no winning to be had here. Their relationship isn't organic in the way that it was back home, but it can't be, it couldn't have been, not between the way that Kurt holds those memories still so close and dear and the way that Blaine hardly knows what's happened at all. There's no way for them to easily, evenly fall in love, and sometimes Kurt wonders if Blaine will find it to be too much.

"I just want to make sure that you're... that you're ready," Kurt says, brow knitting lightly as he rests his chin down against Blaine's shoulder. "I know, it's only whipped cream and making out and it's not, I don't know, taking the next step, but I just want you to know that I might. React... physically. Clearly. But I don't want you to take that as pressure and I don't want us to rush through everything — it's great to have fun, it's wonderful even, but I want for us to know what we're getting ourselves into. You deserve that."

Wincing at the babble, Kurt glances to the side again, expression imploring. "You can stop me at any time if this is weird or, or if I'm being a buzzkill."

"It's not weird," Blaine replies, though he reconsiders a second later. "Well, no. It is weird. This whole town is weird. This whole situation. But you're not... I don't regret tonight at all. I'm glad you asked me out. Really, really glad. And I've- I've thought a lot about kissing you since the other day. Maybe even more than that and I don't know what I'm ready for right now, I just know that every time I touch you, I just want more."

He feels awkward admitting so much and he slows to a stop as they reach the bottom of the stairs, turning to face Kurt more fully.

Glancing down at the can still in his hands, he holds it up with a slight grimace and shrug of his shoulders. "We don't- I don't need this," he says before letting his arm drop away again, his other hand still curled with Kurt's. "We don't even have to kiss again tonight if you want to go a little slower, just to make sure. But I really, really like kissing you, I like everything about you, and I'm having a harder and harder time keeping my hands off you when we're alone together." His brow furrows a little once the words out, lips still curled in a slight frown. "Why do I feel like I should apologize for that?" he asks, more to himself than to Kurt.

I don't need this, Blaine says, and Kurt feels a twinge in his chest at the thought, suddenly chilled by the notion that maybe all of this, everything about the theater and everything about these grand gestures, is just smoke and mirrors. Kurt doesn't want Blaine to love him for bringing him to this enormously gorgeous theater, he doesn't want Blaine to love him for taking them up to hurtling and dizzying heights, he wants Blaine to love him for him. Stripped down and just Kurt. He leans down to gently place the picnic basket down again, then reaches with his free hand to weave his fingers into Blaine's hair, brushing along the line of his brow.

"Don't apologize," he murmurs, leaning forward enough for both of them to share a breath, nose brushing against Blaine's, but lips apart still. "Don't apologize for that. It's not easy for me either. I want to kiss you, touch you, everywhere, I want to be around you all the time, and it's hard to be smart about it. It's hard for me to be careful about it. But I've had time to know that this is what I want, and I don't know how to make sure — I don't know how to make sure that this is the best thing for you."

Almost two months, Kurt thinks to himself. It took almost two months before they were ready to just share those three words without pause. And he has no idea when to expect it this time — earlier, later, or even at all.

Having Kurt so close is somehow both comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. He sways into Kurt's warmth even as it makes his stomach swoop and flip end over end. It's not an entirely unpleasant sensation, though. Because he has the luxury here of already knowing how Kurt feels about him. Kurt's the one in the dark, the one waiting.

"Why wouldn't it be?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're not kissing me against my will. Everything we've done here, not just tonight, but the other day... I've wanted it. I want you."

But somehow Blaine knows that's not exactly what Kurt's after. There's a difference between wanting someone and loving them. He remembers those pictures he'd found on Kurt's computer, how utterly happy they both had been to just be near each other.

And he realizes... "You make me happy."

It's still a whisper, quiet, but certain and Blaine pulls in a breath and lets go of Kurt's hand to touch the side of his neck instead, still pressed close enough to share breath, close enough that Kurt can't look away. "You make me happy, Kurt. Whatever this place may be, however scary it is and however much I miss home, being with you makes all of that go away for awhile. And I don't... I don't think that's just because you're the only person here I really know. I think it's more than that. I think you're my best friend and I love spending time with you and I love kissing you and I'm pretty sure I'd love... everything else. Is that- Is that okay?"

It's strange to come from a position of knowing so much more. It's strange for Kurt to think, even briefly, that perhaps he knows what's best for Blaine even more than he does himself, based on experiences that they've shared together for months. He thinks about the few weeks directly after Blaine transferred to McKinley, he thinks about those first months on the New Directions and how Blaine no longer wanted to resort to using pure physicality and sexual appeal to win over an audience. He remembers the dark look in Blaine's eyes, proudly and almost angrily declaring that he wasn't for sale. No doubt, it was partially fueled by the sheer frustration at having his opinions turned down repeatedly, but Kurt thinks that part of it was also driven by what they shared. How different it had been for the way they waited, making sure that they were comfortable, that they felt every bit loved when starting to ease those walls down.

Still, he nods. Because it's okay — more than okay, to know that even in spite of such a distance, Blaine's still willing to try. To know that Kurt can help ease Blaine's worries and fears for however long they can be eased. To know that they're best friends still, that single detail perhaps more important than any other.

"Yes," Kurt breathes, his heart swelling, even as his steps find themselves unsure, because he makes Blaine happy. Somehow, impossibly, he's able to help shift Blaine away from all the chaos that surrounds them. He's able to bring Blaine back to some overall sense of normalcy. And Kurt wants to protect that more than he wants to breathe, watching the color of Blaine's eyes shift before he tilts his head just so, lips pressed against Blaine's. "God, Blaine. I don't remember how I got by without you."

"Are you kidding?" Blaine replies with a soft laugh against Kurt's lips, nudging them faintly in something that isn't quite a kiss so much as sharing breath. "You're amazing, that's how. And you're a survivor. With or without me, you'll always be just fine. You don't know any way else to be."

And he knows somehow, that Kurt will always argue with him on this, but he also knows he's right. It may not be easy for either of them, but Kurt will always push his way through, head held high and stronger than before.

"Come on," he says then, pulling back again to start heading up the stairs, glancing back to make sure Kurt's following. "What floor are going to?"

"Mm-mm," Kurt protests softly, little more than a hum pressed against Blaine's mouth until he feels Blaine pulling away, tongue quickly brushing over his own lips. Maybe Kurt's a survivor, it's true. Maybe he's been a fighter over the years, pushing against the very tide that would otherwise try to see him buckle. But what Kurt also knows is that after having someone like Blaine enter his life, he doesn't want to even fathom life without. It's just not something that enters his mind.

Ducking again to pick up the basket, Kurt rushes to catch up, slipping his hand into Blaine's as easily as he can manage, trying not to call too much attention. Staring up the staircase, he breaks into a crooked grin.

"Do you even have to ask? Top floor. Obviously."

Blaine can't help the way his smile widens when he feels Kurt's hand sliding into his again and he gives a light squeeze in answer, just to make it clear he's glad Kurt's there with him.

"Right, obviously," he remarks, looking up at the stretch of stairs ahead of them. "I guess we have to burn off all the calories from dinner in one way or another." And he honestly doesn't realize the double entendre until well after the words are past his lips and he ducks his head to hide the slight flush, not sure if he wants Kurt to acknowledge the line or not.

Kurt pauses, blinking, at Blaine's words. It'd be easy to ask Blaine whether or not there's any deeper insinuation that he's trying to make, but to do so would be ruining any semblance of poise or aplomb so tenuously regained after nearly crying in front of him for the millionth time. So Kurt does his best, a teasing a smile stretching over his features as he tugs Blaine after him, quickly climbing the first few stairs.

"Especially when we add in dessert," Kurt declares, staring directly forward before looking over his shoulder with a quick wink.

Of course, that his face floods over with heat probably doesn't seem all that smooth.

Blaine stumbles a little as Kurt tugs at his hand, quickly falling into a laugh as he regains his balance and chases him further up the stairs. And he doesn't miss the wink or the way Kurt's cheeks flush a little redder.

And just like that, things feel a little easier again. Like they're falling back into place. So he doesn't hesitate this time when he says, his voice dropping a little lower, "Well, maybe we should kill two birds with one stone. You know. For dessert."

"For dessert," Kurt repeats, slowing down a little when Blaine's hand instinctively squeezes around Kurt's through the momentary loss of balance, but continuing determinedly up the steps to avoid facing the way Blaine still has Kurt's legs practically turning to jelly underneath him. Perhaps they just fit together like pieces from a puzzle, but Kurt suspects that much of it is also the pure and simple fact that Blaine is a tactile person, capable of communicating so much through a simple touch.

"You talk a big game, Blaine Warbler," adds Kurt as they round the second flight, and in the back of his mind, he wonders if they'll even make it to the top at this point. "Now we're all waiting for the follow-through."

"Oh, that sounds like a challenge if I've ever heard one," Blaine replies, laughing as they round the corner. "Though I do wonder who this mysterious we is. You're not planning on us having an audience quite this early, are you?"

He keeps his voice light and flirty even as he crowds in close, tugging and pushing in equal amounts and nearly making himself trip over his own feet as well as Kurt's. "Because, I have to tell you, while I love performing, I do draw a line at exhibitionism." He pauses for a second, considering that before giving a shrug and glancing over at Kurt again. "Or at least I think I do. Do I? I guess you probably have a better idea than I do."

"I was utilizing the majestic plural, more commonly known as the Royal 'we,'" Kurt points out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he finds himself suddenly crowded by Blaine, Kurt none too eager to worm his way out of the enclosed space. If anything, his gaze is almost coy as he hovers by the side of the stairwell, breathless from the movement. "You'll find that I'm more than a bit of an Anglophile. More broadly, you could even call me a Europhile."

Reaching out playfully to tug at the front of Blaine's shirt, Kurt traces his fingertips over Blaine's chest in circles. "But no, don't worry. That line at exhibitionism shall remain drawn. We're both... far, far too selfish to share something like that."

"Oh good," Blaine says, laughing quietly in relief. Not that he'd really thought otherwise, but it's nice to have it confirmed. And it still feels strange that he needs it to be, like some kind of bizarre form of amnesia.

His skin tingles beneath the touch of Kurt's fingers, even through the fabric of his shirt and he finds his breath quickening just a little as he leans into it. "Good that there's no one actually here, I mean," he clarifies, his voice dropping lower. "We have this whole place to ourselves."

"You have no idea, do you?" Kurt murmurs, giving up on the idea of the top floor, instead pulling the both of them to the next landing and bending down just a bit to set the basket down by the stairs before tugging Blaine over to the first of the balcony seats. The box is ornate, spacious, a sofa positioned in the place of seats, and Kurt pivots again on his foot to hook his arm around Blaine's neck, backing both of them towards the furniture.

"The effect you have on me," he adds, breath passing through his lips in the softest of sighs, and if he's a little less than careful, hips brushing against Blaine's, it's only because his nerves feel like they're jangling now. "Almost don't want to share this place with anyone else, just... want to make it ours. Blaine." His brow furrows, a slight frown on his face as his lips part with a slow, shuddering inhale.

Again, Blaine finds himself tugged up the stairs and he laughs as he stumbles after Kurt, catching himself briefly on the railing before taking the last few steps to the landing, breathing harder as Kurt wraps an around his neck and guides him backwards.

He only stops when the backs of his thighs bump up against the velvet sofa and he leans against it a little as Kurt crowds against him, his own breath shuddering when he feels Kurt press against him, hip to hip. "We could live here," he says, voice a little strained as he struggles to keep his eyes open, keep them locked on Kurt's.

And, as close as they are, he doesn't miss the flicker of something across the grey-green, Kurt's brows furrowing as his lips curl into a frown. "What's wrong?" he asks, worry burrowing in quick even as his skin keeps buzzing. Tentatively, he reaches a hand up, thumb brushing the corner of Kurt's mouth, fingers grazing his jaw. "Is this... Is it still too fast?"

"No," Kurt murmurs, brow knitting deeper, his hands raking down Blaine's sides and tugging him closer, until he can feel each breath pressing him against the other boy's chest. There's no telltale thrum yet, Kurt's eyes fluttering open to fall on Blaine's cardigan, stubbornly pushing up the hem to splay over Blaine's abdomen. "No, I'm just... thinking of all the ways I could kiss you right now. Wonder how I can make this good for you. If I can find..."

Kurt leans forward, lips parted as he presses his mouth against Blaine's neck, breathing against the line of his jaw before trailing his teeth along and up to the lobe of his ear. There's that ache again, Kurt thinks, the ache that tells him that this boy isn't the one Kurt left, but he could be. He could be. Kurt closes his lips and sucks, slow and light, almost pleading, a moan soon fanning over the shell of Blaine's ear.

Blaine's breath hitches sharply when Kurt pushes under his cardigan, his muscles tensing instinctively, though he has absolutely no desire to pull away. His own hands grip Kurt's hips harder and pull, needing the stability as his legs threaten to give beneath him.

No one's ever touched him the way Kurt does and he knows what they've done is still barely scratching the surface of what they could do, of what Kurt's already done with him in a different reality. And he has no idea how to process it, isn't sure he even can.

"Oh," he breathes, head tipping as Kurt leans in, offering his neck to those soft, amazing lips. There's a sudden swell of warmth all through him, blood pulsing in his ears as his heart trips over itself. "Find- Find what?" he asks before the words melt into a moan as Kurt sucks at his ear, Kurt's moan a low, close rumble that seems to shoot straight down Blaine's spine. "Oh god. Kurt."

The sound of Blaine's moan is welcome against Kurt's ears and sends a jolt of warmth below, his hips nudging slightly against Kurt's will until his erection brushes against Blaine's, the contact drawing a sharp and sudden gasp from Kurt's lips. He needs to get home at some point, needs the space and the privacy to touch himself, do his best to approximate the strong hold that Blaine's hands once had on him, unafraid to cry his name again and again as he shatters. For the moment, he shivers on the spot, holding still for a few seconds before letting his mouth travel over Blaine's skin again, kissing down to the space between shoulder and neck, sucking lightly on the skin there.

"You're beautiful," Kurt murmurs, frowning again as the bridge of his nose traces along the line of Blaine's jaw, memorizing every contour, and the feel of his skin after a long day. It always feels like Blaine's body burns stronger than Kurt's own, heat that Kurt just wants to burrow himself into. "Look at you, I still don't understand how. Kiss you all over." He lands his lips just underneath Blaine's jaw, pressing up against the soft skin.

Letting out another, high moan, Blaine's hands slide higher up Kurt's sides, tugging at the stiff fabric of his leather jacket useless before grabbing onto his hips again and crashing him forward. It's not enough, his fingers suddenly itching to get closer, to get to skin if Kurt will let him, but who's too dizzy to find the coordination, too overwhelmed by every brush of Kurt's lips against his skin.

"Please," he murmurs, his mind suddenly flooding with a hundred images all at once, all of them involving a lot less clothing and Kurt's incredible mouth. His Adam's apple nudges the bow of Kurt's lips when he swallows and another moan wrenches free.

He can feel Kurt against him, can feel- Oh. Oh, god. Yes. He wants to touch. He wants to touch Kurt right there, wants to feel that heat under his hand.

But he can't, he knows. Not yet. Sucking in a sharp breath, he lifts his hands to Kurt's face instead, pulling him to crash their mouths together, releasing an aching, hungry moan into Kurt's wide, wet mouth as his hips arch forward, his whole body suddenly on fire.

Letting out a moan that sounds wanton even to his own ears, Kurt starts to roll his hips, slow and steady, against Blaine, tugging the zipper of his leather jacket down and letting it drop to the ground, his silk shirt already clinging to heated skin. They've done this before in Kurt's memory, just rubbed against each other, made each other feel good through that simple and instinctive touch. Both of his hands sneak further under Blaine's cardigan, pushing up insistently.

"Off," he breathes between kisses, tone pleading. It takes every last bit of self-resolve for Kurt not to just shove Blaine back on the sofa, and he channels the frustration by nudging forward and taking more of Blaine's lip between his teeth, nipping sharply and sucking, Blaine's lips as soft and full as Kurt's ever known.

He always forgets to breathe, the air dragging quick through his teeth before Kurt licks into Blaine's mouth. His pants are uncomfortably tight, but still Kurt can't bring himself to tear away, face flushing deeper as the seconds pass.

"Seriously, at least this, off," he insists, plucking at the cardigan.

Blaine's hands fall to Kurt's shoulders the second Kurt's jacket falls away. The silk is soft beneath his palms and Kurt is warm beneath, so so warm. Blaine clutches at him, gripping his upper arms before smoothing down the front of his chest. And Kurt's hands are on him too, shoved up under Blaine's cardigan, but over the shirt just beneath.

He shudders a little at Kurt's request, blood rushing hot down his spine at the way it sounds almost like an order.

His breath still ragged, Blaine pulls away just enough to take care of the few buttons, his hands clumsy in their haste before he finally tugs the garment off, letting it fall to the ground as he grabs Kurt by the back of the neck and hauls him in again. The kiss is anything but smooth, nothing more than clash of teeth and tongue as he feels he heat of Kurt's chest against his own, still not quite close enough, but good. So good.

"God, Kurt," he groans, ducking to brush his lips along the curve of his jaw as his hands slide down to Kurt's waist, resting back against the arm of the couch and pulling Kurt between his spread thighs. "Driving me crazy."

Blaine's hands drag down the front of Kurt's chest, and he can almost feel something in him snap, breath punched out of his lungs with the realization — that's Blaine, that's Blaine, Blaine did that back home too and there's a sudden, startling comfort that comes from that alone. Countless memories of Blaine gazing down at him, occasionally a bed sheet draped lightly over his shoulders as his palms pressed against Kurt's chest, sweeping up to his shoulders, hips lowering carefully and a hiss on his breath.

"Blaine, god."

Before he realizes it, Kurt finds himself panting, entire body feeling hot on the surface, cold just beneath, a confusing clash of sensation that's punctuated by the feeling of Blaine's lips against his jaw. Not to be outdone, Kurt drags his palm down until it rests over Blaine's heart, feeling the heartbeat there before shifting to press a kiss to Blaine's lips, as frenzied as their last, then tugging away to press a line of them down the side of his neck and further still. Maybe Blaine can't feel too much through his shirt, but still Kurt continues, his fingers dragging down Blaine's chest as he kisses dangerously close to the lower limit.

Trying to plant a few ideas.

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