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our bodies are the guilty ones

So here's what you missed on Glee:

Kurt's life has kind of taken a turn for the more exciting lately, between co-directing a musical that includes naked butts and toplessness — ("I don't know if I should be here.") — and being serenaded by Blaine Anderson in what was practically a real life musical — ("I won't give up on us.") — and he's kind of reeling from all of the action, which came to a head on his nineteenth birthday — ("It's like I can finally stop searching. Being with you feels like I'm just... coming home.") — but we can't really show you too much of that because whoa, network ratings. Now he's still stuck with Spring Awakening on the way and starting to get worried about just how much directing he's going to have to do with his boyfriend in the lead role. Did we mention that there are naked butts involved?

And that's what you missed on... Glee!

The time has come, and even after the passage of a good two weeks, Kurt finds that it isn't any easier to face the inevitable. He's spent plenty of afternoons going over the libretto, spent time at the piano to try and work out any minute changes to the feel, all based on the unique performances being put on by all of the cast. He's spent hours watching the crew work on the stage as well, creating backdrops, props, positioning them all under Craig's careful command. It's been a thrill and an honor both to work with such a large group of dedicated and talented individuals, that Kurt's certain of, and there are days at a time when he feels like he's doing nothing other than living, breathing, and dreaming about Spring Awakening.

And still, none of that's prepared him for this.

He's pulled both of them aside to inform them of what they really need to get started on today. Blaine, Kurt's probably told a few times by now, carefully pacing out the alerts in the time they spend together, laced with nervous laughter and quickly shoved aside in favor of just enjoying the time they have together. Jenny, on the other hand, Kurt approached during their last big rehearsal, making sure that she'd have a couple of days to center herself before the private session. Kurt also asked Mary Jane for help with the two, but quickly met with resistance.

"You'll get a lot more out of this exercise if you're forced out of your box," she pointed out.

Kurt's not so certain of that.

But it's unavoidable. Melchior and Wendla's scene in the hayloft may just about be the climax of the show itself, in its way; there's really no way they can go about censoring it without losing a great deal of the impact and intrigue. And so Kurt sits on the side of the stage, ten minutes ahead of the scheduled time.

Wishing that the earth would swallow him whole.

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Blaine shows up a few minutes early, libretto rolled up tight in one hand and stomach a ball of knots. He's known from the beginning what landing the role of Melchior would entail and, though he's slightly less nervous now that he and Jenny have gotten to know each other, the whole prospect is still nothing less than nerve-wracking.

And it's only made worse by the fact that Kurt, his boyfriend will be directing him. If there has ever been a more accurate description of awkward, he doesn't know what it might be.

It's far from a dress rehearsal, but Kurt had instructed him to wear what he'll be donning for the show: a pair of button trousers, a long-sleeved, billowy button-down shirt, and suspenders. And his hair is significantly less gelled than Blaine is usually comfortable with. He scratches at it anxiously as he approaches the side of the stage where Kurt's waiting, his lips twisting into a shaky smile.

"Hey," he says, finally dropping his hand to nudge at Kurt's elbow lightly as he pulls in a deep breath. As nervous as he may be, he can pretend to be otherwise right now. He won't mess this up for Kurt. He spreads his arms out wide. "So how do I look?"

He should have noticed the footsteps, but somehow they manage to escape Kurt entirely as he stares head, ears pounding nervously over what's to come. Is this a good time to explain to Jenny that he's dating Blaine? Has she perhaps already heard of the serenading that took place only weeks ago? Would that just make things more awkward? They're all questions that Kurt's considered for some time, but he finds that he's no closer to answering them now for all the obsessiveness. In fact, when Blaine nudges his elbow, Kurt nearly jumps, blinking rapidly as he glances over his shoulder.

It's a little comforting, admittedly, that Blaine's the first one who made it to the stage.

Grinning, Kurt rises to his feet, hand resting by his chin as he feigns a highly discerning look, circling around Blaine and adding in a nod here and there, until he's taken a spiraling path that ends right in front of Blaine.

"Gorgeous," Kurt declares, leaning in for a quick peck to Blaine's lips. "I really like the suspenders. I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't be rethinking commandeering the lead female role again."

"I should hope not," Jenny says, though she can barely manage to suppress her smile as she nears the two, having only just caught Kurt's last statement. In a way, she's grateful for it. Though she isn't usually one to rely on humor, the very nature of what they're doing here is awkward to say the very least, and starting in with a joke is much easier than wandering over full of trepidation. It isn't like she regrets taking the part, or even like she minds the content. Baring some skin is ultimately meaningless, and though she doesn't know him well, she has plenty of reason to trust Blaine with a scene like this. Still, it was different in theory than in actually going to rehearse, and she can't help if she's a little more nervous now than she was at the start.

She keeps smiling at the pair anyway, lingering just a few feet away, and tugs absently at the skirt of the dress she has on. At least as far as costumes go, hers is comfortable, even if she knows precisely why it was important to wear to this rehearsal. "For one, I'm not sure this would suit you quite so well."

Edited 2012-06-04 03:24 (UTC)

"Oh, I don't know," Blaine says, still smiling the light kiss, his arm sliding easily behind Kurt to rest his hand at the small of his back. "He looks pretty amazing in a kilt so I'm willing to bet he could pull it off."

He glances over at Kurt with a wide grin before turning his attention back to Jenny with a slight bow. "Maybe not quite so well as you, I'll admit. His legs are hairier for one thing."

Kurt's lips part in surprise as Jenny makes her way onto the stage, coming in at just the right time to catch the two boys at the tail end of a moment. But she doesn't seem at all displeased for it, and so Kurt can't help the faint smile that stretches across his lips and the warmth that blossoms in his chest as Blaine rests a hand on the small of his back. The mention of prom twinges slightly in his chest, but between Blaine and Karofsky, Kurt's heard a great deal about the night— enough to know that he really did go with an Alexander McQueen homage, exactly as he's envisioned since the late designer's untimely passing.

Swatting a hand at Blaine's arm, Kurt shakes his head. "And maybe keeping hairy legs in a lead female role could be making a statement of its own kind, that we should all embrace hair wherever and however it grows," Kurt points out, a sly smile aimed at Blaine before he turns back to Jenny, taking a step forward and sweeping an admiring gaze over the look of her in the dress. "But I have to admit, this fit and the color are gorgeous on you, Jenny. You'll be a scene-stealer for sure."

"Why, thank you," Jenny says with a teasing grin, giving in to temptation and twirling once, arms out to her sides. It's a bit farther than she'd usually go with it, but for the character, for the show, it feels fitting to not hold back, and besides, they could probably use the levity before they get down to business. She can't pretend she doesn't enjoy the compliment, anyway. As they've gone farther into rehearsals, she's begun to find her footing, and how a costume looks doesn't actually mean that much, but she likes hearing it anyway. A little confidence at a time like this goes a long way. "I think we're probably making a statement enough here as it is."

"And what statement is that?" Blaine asks with a quiet laugh, his arm still slung low around Kurt's waist. It isn't a possessive gesture at all so much as simple comfort. Being close to Kurt always makes him feel more centered and, given what they're about to do, he really needs that right now. "Honestly, I'm just hoping we can get through this without half the island population seeing parts of me no one has any business seeing. I mean, I realize that, as an actor, my body is merely a vessel or whatever, but I think I'm still technically a minor and, where I come from, there are laws about that sort of thing."

Even as he says it, he's grinning, his voice light and joking even if, to at least some degree, he means it. Mostly because he's still just nervous as hell.

For a second, Kurt almost gives into the temptation to drop his head right down onto Blaine's shoulder, comforted by the easy fit of Blaine's arm around his waist. But before his temple can make it there, he straightens, remembering that there's a certain amount of professionalism he should really be trying to keep around Jenny, even if she's a friend, and even if they're about to become more intimately acquainted, in a way, than Kurt is with many of his closest friends. "Well, none of us are minors here," Kurt points out, smiling nervously. "And I know that I am the last person to lecture considering how... shy I get sometimes about myself, but it's, it's just our bodies. I think a play like this is beautiful, and I think it shares a pretty important message that I would've balked at just a year ago."

Glancing from Blaine to Jenny, he adds, "If anything, I'd say that the pressure's pretty high on me too, trying to make this seem tasteful to people who might be otherwise resistant."

"We should be able to strike a balance," Jenny says thoughtfully, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "Being tasteful without having to censor anything." For her part, she isn't overly concerned. There are only two people she's ever been with, and she was faithful to both, but the way she sees it, for something like this, it really doesn't matter much if she has to take off some clothing. It's not like she does it on her own normally, so why should it have to be a big deal? "Which I suppose means we ought to start figuring this out."

Blaine honestly doesn't doubt Kurt will be able to hit that balance, but that doesn't make it any less nerve-wracking. Especially right now.

But Jenny's right. The longer they stand here talking, the longer they delay the inevitable. Nervous as he is, it's not going to get any easier just standing here. So he pulls his arm away from Kurt to clap his hands together, inhaling sharply as he ignores the heat already creeping up his neck. "You're right, we should," he says, glancing quickly to Kurt. "How should we start, Mr. Director."

Cheeks flushing over anew when Blaine pulls away, Kurt nods resolutely, licking his lips before pressing his lips together. "Right. Yes. We're here to rehearse, after all, uh... okay." Gesturing for both of the actors to follow him, Kurt walks on over towards the side of the stage, where a large wooden platform already stands, albeit unstained and not yet colored to fit the set. "So for this scene, we're going to have both of you on this landing. In the original Broadway run, this was suspended in midair with the rest of the cast helping to make it sway. We're still working on seeing whether or not there's a way to translate that to this stage, but obviously our resources are a bit more limited. Either way, the wooden paneling itself is perfectly safe and should be properly sanded down as well."

Clearing his throat, Kurt eyes the platform critically before reaching to the side, where he's brought the single prop, a leather-bound journal, which he offers to Jenny.

"So, I'm sure that both of you are familiar with scene eleven. I thought we'd start after the singing, when Wendla approaches Melchior, having read his very, erm. Explicit detailing of sexual intercourse."

Following Kurt over towards the platform meant to be the hayloft, Jenny does her best to bite back a smile at the way he puts it. It's familiar, honestly. In a situation like this, it makes sense to be careful, but everything — from the content of the play itself to its delicate handling with the actors — reminds her of the way people treated sex at home, as something uncomfortable, not to be spoken of, rather than a simple, physical act. Even before she'd gained any experience, she had trouble seeing the weight of it; now that she's done it, she stands by her initial impression even more strongly. There's no reason it should cause so much trouble. For all the care they need to give it in acting it out, she thinks the same holds true here. Opening her dress isn't anything she thinks she'll have a problem with.

"Right," she says, an unconscious echo of Kurt from a moment before, as she reaches out to take the journal, grateful she's at least got a handle on the dialogue. This would be much more difficult with a script in her hand, though she's brought hers anyway just in case, left off to the side so she can make notes on it later as needed. "That works for me."

Memorizing his lines has been greatly helped by the fact that Blaine's already quite familiar with the musical. Still, he's practiced a good deal, usually in his long walks to and from the Compound every day. There are still some scenes he's shaky on, but this one he's made sure to get down. As nervous as he knows he'll be, it seems integral to make sure there's as little chance of messing up as possible.

So, taking Kurt's direction, he sets aside his libretto for the moment and steps onto the platform, stretching one arm across his chest and then the other, trying to loosen up his muscles and well as his nerves. "Do you want us to just do it free form?" he asks. "Or do you want to do some blocking first?"

"We'll block as we go, I think," Kurt says, momentarily distracted from what's to come as his brow furrows in thought, glancing across the stage. "We won't be able to finalize all of the direction tonight without stage management here, and I'm mainly interested to see how we can tackle the emotion of the scene, but I want us to get a general idea of what's comfortable. So... how's this."

It strikes Kurt that the only ever person he's watched direct a play was Mr. Schue. He doesn't want to repeat that experience, Mr. Schue always sticking precisely to the script or the original run for direction.

"We'll take this a few lines at a time, and I'll give you a sense for what I want before you try. For instance, Blaine, I want you on the platform, and Jenny, we'll have you over here to the side," Kurt explains, stepping a few paces away from the platform. "The lights will be on Blaine as he sings, and you'll come up right to the edge. Once his song's over, you'll be right there and we'll practically interrupt his singing, breaking that fantasy. I want you to be hesitant as you approach him, not stepping onto the platform until the moment you see Blaine— or Melchior, rather— cave a little. Mentally accepting the idea of letting you close."

"Yes, alright," Jenny says, nodding as she moves towards where Kurt has indicated, one hand smoothing absently over her skirt. It isn't like she's got much experience with this, has no way of knowing how typical it is or not, but she likes the way he puts it — like they're relying on feeling rather than forcing anything by a certain place, something she's far more comfortable with. It's when she isn't thinking, she's found, that this comes a lot easier, and however manufactured their chemistry may be, taking cues from that makes more sense than just going by the words on a page that were written for people other than them. "I think that sounds good."

Blaine nods his agreement, dropping down to his knees on the supposed hayloft before watching as Jenny gets into position. He clears his throat a little.

"Start from 'Go away, please?'" he asks, waiting for Kurt's nod of affirmation before carrying on. He lets the words and character motivation move him, trusting Kurt to interrupt with different blocking ideas as he needs to. Though, with the platform as small as it is and the fact that he's supposed to be lying down or on his knees the whole time, there really isn't all that much room for him to move in the first place.

He works at keeping his tone sharp and aloof, playing up Melchior's quiet shame and arrogance as much as he can and then jolting with surprise as Wendla mentions the journal. "Just leave it," he says, glancing at her with wide eyes. "Please."

It's the wide eyes that get to her, that look, brief as it is, that sends her from cautious insistence a little more towards just the latter. That, Jenny thinks, is one of the things she likes about Wendla — she's a naïve little thing, but that's not wholly her own fault, and at least come this point in the play, she makes her own decisions, doesn't let herself be run off. She doesn't let it diminish her gentleness, either, and Jenny holds on to that as she carefully starts to pull herself up onto the makeshift hayloft, journal still in hand.

"Melchior, I'm sorry about..." she starts, swallowing hard when she trails off, not quite looking at him for a moment. They, Melchior and Wendla, both know what lies between them, but this is the first she'll have spoken of it, and she doesn't quite know how, all the more earnest for it when she continues. Difficult as it is, they're things that need to be said. "What happened. Truly, I am. I understand why you'd be angry at me. I don't know what I was thinking —"

In some ways, Kurt feels like he can understand Wendla. He's not exactly like her, curiosity very easily stamped down in Kurt up until now, until he's come to the realization that he has a boyfriend who wants to touch him, who loves to breathe against the shell of his ear and kiss down the line of his neck. Intimacy was never something Kurt felt like he needed to know or understand until it came around of its own volition. In many ways, the same holds true for Wendla and Melchior, burgeoning energy only finally finding its place in each other.

"You're still confused," Kurt murmurs softly, not wanting to interrupt the momentum. "You're confused in mind, but in your heart you know where you're headed, and that's to each other."

Sometimes, Kurt feels like he's similarly stumbling on the island. It's a little backwards, of course. Unlike Wendla, he already knows that he loves Blaine. But all Kurt can think of is Blaine in the pool, persuading through touch. If Blaine can channel even half of that into this, Kurt thinks, it'll be unquestionably a success.

Kurt's quiet encouragement drifts over his and Jenny's dialogue, neither of them missing a beat. And he considers it, not finding it too difficult to relate to at all.

This scene is actually one of the tougher ones for reasons not at all having to do with the nudity aspect. It's far too easy for him to relate to Melchior in this moment, a memory from months ago springing to mind as he channels all the feelings he knows his character must be feeling. And it's maybe even worse considering not even Kurt - this Kurt - knows about any of that. Makes it feel like even more of a dirty secret somehow. One he's not sure he'll ever tell.

"No more!" he yells, voice sharp and strained. "My God. No more. Just- please." He turns away, hiding his face from Wendla and from Kurt, his voice softening. "You should go."

They were always going to end up here, Jenny thinks. Just like Kurt said, even when they weren't consciously aware of it, it was always going to come to this; she was never going to let him push her away. Though she's careful still, every movement slow, cautious, there's no real uncertainty to her as she shifts closer, kneeling beside him, like she wants to reach for him but can't understand that pull, can't breach that distance. It's another couple of quiet lines exchanged, though, before she does make her move, an arm slipping around him so she can cradle his head to her chest, fingers threading into his hair.

"It was me," she murmurs, to herself as much as to him, a realization dawning despite what she's been trying to say this entire time, no less insistent that he listen to her for it. "All me."

There's almost a soft gasp that escapes from Kurt's lips, although he manages to keep it from being audible, anything more than a whisper of air. Because they look good. They look really good. It's an unpolished rehearsal and Kurt knows that there's so much further to go before they fully reach what they need for a performance, but even just on an aesthetic level, they look so much better than Kurt thinks that he ever can with Blaine. It squeezes at his heart, irrationally. And he has to remind himself that he'll see much more of this, not just in depth but also in frequency.

It's unreasonable to feel jealous right now, right?

And yet Kurt does.

"Listen to her heart," Kurt says, bending down and touching a hand to the point on Blaine's back that needs to release more tension as the scene goes. "Suddenly, you really need to listen to her heart. Figuratively. Literally. Both. And Wendla, where your words can't reach Melchior, you need for your body to. Can't even explain why it's that, but there's something you need to express physically."

He steps slightly back, eyes still trained close.

Kurt's touch is light, just barely felt beneath the fabric of Melchior's shirt, but Blaine lets out a breath all the same, feels his muscles slowly loosen as he closes his eyes.

"I can hear your heartbeat, Wendla," he says, straining to hear it just as Kurt had instructed. And he can't help but remember being in this position dozens of times before, but with Kurt. The physical differences are obvious of course, but the emotion is similar, that primal sensation of feeling Kurt's life beneath him, feeling and hearing the proof of how badly Kurt wanted him through the unsteady beating.

He pulls himself away as Wendla speaks, eyes wide and locked on hers before he draws her down to his chest, fingers smoothing over her hair. "No matter where I am, I hear it beating..."

"And I hear yours," Jenny murmurs, as if marveling at the fact of it, as if it weren't perfectly logical to hear a heart beating inside a chest. It's different than simple reason, though, she thinks, because there's so little of that in this, at least where Wendla is concerned — not that this doesn't make sense, but that she can't make sense of it. She considers what Kurt's said, curling a little closer. In a way, it's the opposite of how things have been for her in the past — a pull that's inherently physical, a lack of words or sense — but she thinks she can do that, try to say with her body what she couldn't find a way to define, to gradually let that desire override anything else.

This part has always struck Blaine as remarkably tender and it's not difficult to access that part of himself, his fingers gently sliding over Wendla's soft hair as tilts her face upward and leans down at the same time, brushing a brief kiss to her lips.

He pulls back only briefly when she whispers his name, his eyes taking in the open expression on her face and the part of her lips and he wastes no time in kissing her again, harder, pulling her body to his.

Maybe, when the scene's been run completely through, Kurt will come back with an opinion more carefully formed. Maybe he'll be able to make little critiques, anything to make this very moment more raw, because it's something that neither person predicted would happen, and yet something that both were yearning for, and Kurt isn't sure that there's any way to lessen how much that ought grate in teenagers so confused. Maybe he'll talk about how they should probably be further in the center of the platform, maybe he'll talk about how the light might come down. But none of that comes to mind just yet.

No, instead he finds his mind tripping over and over on this, on Blaine kissing someone else. It's just an act. Kurt knows that. It's what stays his tongue as he simply brings his fingers up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose, because somewhere along the line, breathing's started to sting.

Again, there's just something that looks perfect about it. Carefully, Kurt drops his hand down to his lips, watching closely, waiting for panic and uncertainty to rise in Jenny, waits for the movement to come to a halt.

At first, she leans into the kiss, an unpracticed need drawing her forward that Jenny has to try and shut out her own experiences for. The first time she'd kissed David had been nothing like this, and not just because they were in his car, the angle of their bodies all wrong and a little divider between them. It had been a long time coming, something expected if no less a thrill. The first time she'd kissed Cameron, she had long since known what she was doing, the one prompting their steps forward, even the one whose idea it was when they first slept together.

This is meant to be different. It ought to be strange, being kissed by someone else now, but she doesn't let herself think about that, focusing instead on the headiness of forbidden desire, all the things that Wendla would feel without comprehending. Suddenly, she slips a hand up between them, held in front of her as she draws back. "No — wait — no —" she says, breathless, barely pausing at all after he says her name before she continues, expression drawn in worry and confusion and still an undercurrent of wanting. "Wait — stop. I can't. We're not supposed to."

Blaine's only ever kissed one other girl before (twice, not counting the several exchanged during West Side Story) and, while he wouldn't consider any of those occasions were particularly horrible, the first one had felt nice if only because he was drunk out of his mind and the second lacked any kind of spark whatsoever. Neither, of course, were anything like kissing Kurt. They didn't even come close.

And this kiss doesn't either.

Part of that is the circumstance, of course. This is a role. He is merely Melchior kissing Wendla, not Blaine kissing Jenny and he's sure it's the same for her. But there's also the fact that Kurt is watching. A part of him, the part that's still very much Blaine and not Melchior, feels horrible right now.

He does what he can to shove it aside, fumbling only a little on his lines when he replies, "Not supposed to what? Love? Is there such a thing?"

In his mind, he can hear the music kick in and that soothes him a little, bending slightly as he again searches Wendla's face. "I hear your heart," he says and slides a hand down to rest high on her waist. "I feel you breathing, everywhere. Please. Please, Wendla."

The third kiss probably isn't as passionate as it should be. Blaine keeps his lips firmly closed as he pulls Jenny to him, and trying desperately to the part of his brain that is all too aware of Kurt still observing just out of his line of sight.

Crossing his arms more tightly over his chest, Kurt starts to shake his head. They're both thinking too much, that much is clear— not only clear, probably expected. They haven't been practicing kisses nonstop, after all, and Kurt's sure that his being there is probably making it worse still, particularly for Blaine. But he can't go easy on them, he can't hold them to the expectations for the first day. It's better to make clear all of the shortcomings that there are currently to give them an accurate picture of what still needs to be done.

"Forget that I'm here," Kurt instructs with a slightly thin tone, brow furrowed as he keeps a closer eye on the both of them. "Or at least, stop caring what I think, stop worrying. You're worrying, and Melchior at this point isn't worrying so much as he's trying to convince her, persuade her, show her the passion that she's holding back on."

Despite however good an actor Blaine may or may not be, he feels Kurt's order is next to impossible. Since the moment they met, he's been almost hyper-aware of where Kurt is at all times even if he never really realized it. And, once again, this is Blaine performing for Kurt, eagerly trying to catch his attention and hold it, trying to be deemed good enough.

But it's... not quite like it's always been.

Still, he tries, giving a quick, decisive nod before pulling back just a little to repeat his line. "I hear your heart," he says, eyes locked on Wendla's face, searching her eyes as his hand slides high up on her waist again, his voice softening. "I feel you breathing. Everywhere. Please," says, his voice still quiet, but desperate as he pulls Wendla close. "Please, Wendla."

Kissing her again, Blaine's hands grip the fabric of Wendla's dress, clinging tightly in such a way Blaine desperately hopes registers as passionate.

Though Jenny has tried, for the most part, not to think about it, it's impossible to ignore the awkwardness inherent in the situation, being Blaine's love interest under Kurt's direction, the two of them a couple. It's just never seemed so pronounced before now, and she can't say she blames them. If it were her, she doesn't know what she'd do. As it is, at least there's the constant reassurance that there's nothing to worry about here. Kissing someone else doesn't feel like cheating on her boyfriend when it's just acting, when there's no chance of it trying to be made more than that, no matter how intimate the scene may be.

This time, she's more yielding into the kiss, under his touch. She wouldn't want to say that Melchior wears Wendla down, but rather her own desire does, and that's what she tries to focus on, the pull between them one that should be impossible for Wendla to ignore, even as she draws back again. "Melchi, no — it just — it's..." she says, all but pleading as she trails off, looking as much for a reason to keep going as one to stop."

Stepping briefly to the side, his steps as quiet and unobtrusive as they can be, Kurt picks up one of the makeshift handheld blackboards from the side and takes a few notes down. Namely, the fact that Blaine seems to show passion through grabbing at clothing, which... while not necessarily inaccurate, would probably be even more convincing if he was more willing to grab at her body as well. Kurt's flush spreads up his cheeks and over to his ears, both feeling like they practically burn as Kurt glances over at the both of them.

They're good, though. They know the lines already, they're into it. Just a little bit too self-conscious to come across as terribly into each other.

But they can practice, Kurt reminds himself. They'll practice until all of them are so tired of it that self-consciousness won't even be a thing anymore. He waits for Blaine's reaction, crouching with his chalk poised over the board.

"What? Sinful?" Blaine asks, pulling back only a little, one hand lifting to cradle the side of her face. He's touched Kurt just like this, he thinks. Months ago. C'mon, let's just do it. I want you. I want you so bad. The memory hits like a punch, calling up a dozen different emotions, not all of them pleasant, but tries to focus on the purely primal one, the one that had screamed want and desperation and need.

Jenny says her line, and Blaine doesn't let her pull away, one hand curled around her waist, the other sinking into her hair.

"Then, why? Because it's good?" he asks, emphasizing the word like it's meant to be the very opposite. "Because it makes us feel something?"

It was always going to come to this for them, and Jenny thinks, deep down, Wendla probably would know that too, even without being wholly aware of what that would mean. Those words — that one, really — are what do it, the driving factor in so much of this. And that, she gets. She remembers telling David once that she didn't think she'd ever lived before she met him, their whole society sucked dry and bland. It's the same here, except it isn't about culture and art, weekend getaways and fancy nightclubs. It's something deeper than that, if similar, the yearning a physical one. To feel, she doesn't need to be anywhere but here.

For the moment, then, she doesn't need to hear anything more than that. Looking at him with wide eyes for a few seconds, she shifts closer, kissing him hard, desperate like she's searching for an answer for something she's wanted for a long time. It still feels strange, there's no denying that, but she does her best to ignore it. They'll have to get used to this anyway, so there's little use in being hesitant about it.

This is where the music comes in. This is when they're supposed to sing, when everything is supposed to come together in a wash of feeling. Kurt's eyes linger on them for a moment, and he heaves a quiet breath, feeling strangely isolated, as though watching them from across the water. Licking his lips, he clears his throat as quietly as possible, and maybe it won't be perfect when his voice hasn't been warmed up, but he might as well try.

"I believe, I believe, I believe," he sings, dropping his chin down on top of his knees. "Oh, I believe all will be forgiven. I believe, I believe, I believe, oh I believe. There is love in Heaven.

"I believe."

Kurt's quiet singing voice makes Blaine jerk briefly, though he hopes it isn't too noticeable. He isn't supposed to be aware of anything but Wendla right now, isn't supposed to be focusing on the fact that they're being watched no matter how impossible that might feel.

So he tries to focus on the kiss instead, his brow furrowing slightly as he calls up the dozens of memories of kissing Kurt, the passion ignited inside him whenever they touch and funneling it to here, to this. Gently, he eases Jenny onto her back, hovering over her with another slow, deep kiss. And it still feels strange of course, Jenny's lips so different from the one's he's used to, the shape and texture and taste.

"Don't be scared," he whispers as he pulls back and he's honestly not sure who he's addressing right now, whether it's Wendla or himself as he lays a shaky hand on her breast.

Jenny nearly tells him that she isn't, but then she remembers that's not how this goes, not the point. Vaguely experienced as she might be herself, easily as the physical part of all of this might come because of it, Wendla hasn't been there and doesn't know what to expect. Even she had been somewhat nervous her own first time, no matter how blasé she acted about the whole thing, and she'd had a much better idea of what it would entail, and done other things prior to that besides. Here and now, though, it should all be new, and she tries to think about that, like she doesn't know every movement that's supposed to happen here, both from the words in the script and her own sexual history.

Careful as she lies back, she draws in a shaky breath, chest rising under his hand with it before she shakes her head, teeth pressing to her lower lip with hesitation. "No," she says, wary still, torn between what she wants and what she should want. "Don't. It..." At his question of what, though, she makes up her mind, gently reaching for his hand to lift it to her breast again. Sooner or later, she knows, they're probably going to have to stop, decide what they're doing instead of just doing it, but until then, she's trying not to think much about that, remembering what Kurt said about pretending he isn't there.

It's probably the most unprofessional thing ever, but he looks away for a second. Kurt finds that he has to. That there's something about watching Blaine make out with someone, really and truly, tongue and all, that starts to grate on him after a time, so Kurt drops his forehead to the back of his hand and tries his best to soldier up and stop obsessing, stop thinking about how Jenny looks like a movie star and how wonderful Blaine would be on Broadway and how he's not sure he'll ever see the day when two men can be portrayed similarly to the mainstream audience.

Licking his lips, he hesitantly glances back up, and it's time for what's probably going to drop in his stomach most of all. Time for shedding clothes. It's art, Kurt reminds himself, it's art, it's trying to make the audience feel something, it's not real. Not even as much as Blaine's kiss with Rachel Berry, back in the day.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

our bodies are the guilty ones

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