All Summer in a Day - Part I

[amuly]

Title: All Summer in a Day: Part I
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, +occasional New Directions students
Word Count: 11,106 (total)
Rating: R
Summary: Kurt and Blaine's summer before senior year is a kaleidoscope of new sights and sounds and experiences.
Warnings: minor rutting
A/N: Title stolen from the incomparable Ray Bradbury. Fic written in an attempt to write the summer hiatus fic to end all summer hiatus fics. It's up to you guys as to whether or not I succeeded :P

 

5 am

 

Kurt could barely see the road to drive through sleep-weary eyes. Clutching his coffee like a panacea in one hand, he twisted the steering wheel in his right, turning to Blaine's driveway. A jaw-splitting yawn broke his porcelain features as he stumbled out of his car, coffee sloshing almost out and over the lid of his cup, but not quite.

Not to his surprise, Blaine was waiting out on the front porch, similar cup of coffee clenched in his own tired hands. “Hey,” he mumbled, starting down the porch.

“Morning,” Kurt replied. They met at the bottom step, Blaine pulling Kurt into a hug before he could even fret over how they would greet each other. For a long moment Kurt let himself get lost in Blaine's embrace, feeling the other boy tight and warm around him, their coffee cups steaming in the early-morning chill.

When they pulled away Blaine was smiling, a little less sleepy and a little more happy than he had been moments before. “You didn't have to do this, you know.”

“Helping my boyfriend get ready for his first day at his summer job? Of course I did.” Kurt gestured with his coffee cup around the front yard. “So. Where do you want to go?”

Blaine's grin was sheepish. “Well, everyone's asleep, so we can't exactly sing in the house. And I don't think the neighbors would appreciate us belting out a few scales in the backyard at five am...”

Kurt nodded as he sipped his coffee. All of that made sense.

“But,” Blaine continued, “I was thinking: your car's nice and roomy, and it's got that great stereo system...”

Kurt tried his best to look affronted: placing a hand on his hips, tossing his head in shock. “Blaine Anderson: don't tell me you dragged me out of bed this early for my car.”

At least Blaine had the decency to look shame-faced. “Please? I promise to buy you a whole basket of products from Bath and Body Works with my first paycheck to make up for it.”

Kurt sighed. “Well,” he drew the word out slowly, as if there was ever any doubt he'd let Blaine use his car: smelly bath products bribe or now. “Alright.”

A half hour later Blaine was climbing out of Kurt's car, still cheerfully humming Katie Perry's chorus. “Wish me luck!”

Kurt leaned over toward Blaine, smiling at him in the almost-dawn light that had slowly started to diffuse through the early-morning Ohio sky. “You don't need it, but good luck anyway.”

When Blaine leaned in for a kiss it caught Kurt off guard, and he hardly had time to kiss back before Blaine was bounding off toward his own car, iPod gripped securely in hand. “I'll send you a text when I get off work! Maybe we'll grab a pizza!”

Kurt could only sit, stunned and more than a little flushed, as Blaine pulled out of driveway, waving through his window at Kurt the whole time.

 

6 am

 

Beep Beep.

Kurt rolled over, tugging his mound of comforters and blankets up higher onto his shoulders.

Beep Beep.

Groggy with sleep, Kurt cracked one eye open. What time was it? The radio clock on his nightstand blinked a dreary six am at him. Well that answered one question.

Beep Beep.

Belatedly Kurt realized it was his phone on his nightstand that had awoken him. His text message tone was going off. Kurt reached a hand out of his cocoon of fluffy, three thousand thread-count Egyptian cotton blankets and flailed for his cell. If someone was texting him at six am it had better be important. Otherwise they owed Kurt a basket of facial supplies to make up for the lost beauty sleep.

Tugging his cell back under the covers with him, Kurt blinked sleepy eyes until they could focus on the tiny screen. All three texts were from Blaine. Kurt's stomach glowed warm with the fact. And even better: picture messages. Well. Maybe that was worth the lost sleep.

After thumbing a couple buttons, Kurt managed to open up the pictures. He beamed down at his phone. They were those terrible self-taken photos, with the arm stretched out and the awkward angles. Blaine was in his Six-Flags uniform – which appeared to be made of some sort of terrible polyester cotton blend – grinning like a madman in the early-morning light. The first picture was him hatless, the second with his cheesy uniform cap on, and the third... Kurt blushed. The third photo was Blaine giving his camera phone what Kurt assumed to be “bedroom eyes”, though he had certainly never seen them in their titular context.

Quickly Kurt thumbed a message out to Blaine. Your good looks are wasted in that uniform. Now let me get my beauty sleep. For good measure, Kurt snapped a picture of himself, half buried in pillows and blankets, his hair a mess and face covered in ugly lines from sleep. He sent it anyway, knowing Blaine wouldn't care.

Sure enough, not even a minute later he received a reply. Not that u need it – ur gorgeous enough as it is. TTYL. <3 u.

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine's text speak. But that didn't stop him from clutching his phone to his chest as he fell back to sleep.

 

7 am

 

“I can't believe I let you make me wake up early on the weekend,” Blaine moaned. His head was resting on the coffee shop's table, eyes closed and face looking almost completely relaxed in sleep. Kurt was surprised he was able to talk at all.

“I just thought it'd be nice,” Kurt defended himself. “I hardly got to see you all week, and I figured getting breakfast together would be a nice way to start the day...”

Blaine's eyes opened, and then he was jerking his head up, eyebrows pulled tight together in apology. “Oh, hey, I'm sorry.” He reached across the table to take Kurt's hand in his. “It is nice. I've just been waking up early all week, and you know I'm not a morning person...”

Kurt shifted in his seat, casting hurt eyes down at the coffee shop floor. It looked freshly scrubbed. “Right. Sorry. I know.”

“Hey.” Blaine's hand was tugging at Kurt's and didn't stop until Kurt ventured a glance up. Blaine was smiling – sleepily, certainly, but smiling. Without even a glance around the shop to see who might be watching, Blaine lifted Kurt's captured hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Kurt blushed fiercely. “This is perfect. This is how I'd want to start every day: breakfast and coffee with you.” Blaine paused, smile blooming even more brightly across his face. “Just maybe not so early.”

Kurt's mouth opened and shut as he found himself at a loss for what to say. Now it was Blaine's turn to look embarrassed as he tried to tug his hand away from Kurt's.

“Sorry. That was too cheesy, wasn't it?”

“No!” Gripping tight at Blaine's hand, Kurt refused to let it go. “No.” Blaine's smile returned to his face as Kurt stared earnestly at him, still glowing in Blaine's earlier admission. “Not too cheesy at all. Never too cheesy.”

 

8 am

 

Kurt eyed the t.v. skeptically, even as he curled up on the couch next to Blaine. Their bowls of cereal – and fruit, as Kurt insisted on – sat on the coffee table with their mugs of coffee, which were still steaming.

“I'm telling you, Kurt: it's the best. Just hang on while I find... aha!” Blaine tossed the remote on the couch between them as he sat back triumphantly. Kurt raised his eyebrow at the bright yellow sponge laughing maniacally on the t.v. in front of him.

“This is what's so great?”

The sponge was talking with a squirrel. Who appeared to be... in an astronaut outfit? Oh, because they were underwater. Right. Kurt supposed it made some sense.

Just as Kurt ventured to take a sip of his coffee, Blaine spluttered into his cereal, laughing hysterically at something on the screen. “Photosynthesis!” he laughed. “Did you see?”'

Kurt nodded. “Yes,” he drew out. “The sponge pretended to a a plant. By lying on the ground and chanting 'photosynthesis'. I hardly see why-”

Blaine was gasping with laughter, cereal bowl set back down on the coffee table as he struggled to breathe. “Photosynthesis! Photosynthesis!”

Kurt shook his head. He had never watched saturday morning cartoons like the other children had, and he certainly wasn't seeing the appeal now. Then again, something that could have Blaine all sleep-ruffled and cuddled up with Kurt on the couch in the wee hours of a saturday morning couldn't be all bad. Especially when their legs were tangled beneath the blanket, and Blaine's sock-clad feet were warm against Kurt's calves.

“I still can't believe you never watched these,” Blaine managed to mumble around a mouthful of cereal, once he had calmed down long enough to eat again.

Kurt shrugged one shoulder. “Saturday mornings were usually for my mom and me. We'd watch musicals: Sound of Music, West Side Story... stuff like that.”

Blaine's eyes softened as he looked over at Kurt, attention successfully diverted from the brightly-colored cartoons for a moment. “Oh. Kurt, I'm sorry. I didn't know-”

“It's fine.” Kurt shook his head, smiling softly. It really was fine. That was something he had shared with his mom. Now he had new traditions to start and share with Blaine.

Reaching out with his fee hand, Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand in his. “Would you rather watch a musical? I wouldn't mind.”

Emboldened perhaps by the early morning light – the way it slanted through the windows and illuminated all the motes of dust in the air – Kurt brought Blaine's hand to his lips and kissed it. “We have plenty of time to watch musicals,” he mused. “But saturday morning cartoons are only on right now.” He turned to the t.v., raising what he hoped was an elegant eyebrow. “But I do hope there are other ones besides this one with the sponge.”

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, the one that's on next you're going to love. It's these two fairy godparents...”

 

9 am

 

“Didn't we have a talk about early mornings?” Blaine groaned.

Kurt ignored his concerns, bouncing slightly as he waited for the mall doors to open. They were a minute late. “You weren't complaining last Saturday when you dragged me to the couch at eight am to watch cartoons.”

Blaine groaned. “But we were watching t.v.! Shopping requires a lot more effort.” He turned and gave Kurt a look. “Especially shopping with you.”

The doors clicked open, and suddenly Kurt found he couldn't care less for Blaine's whining. “Oh shush,” he chided. “You just have to sit there and make approving facial expressions while I try on about a million and one new outfits.” Kurt paused as they stepped through the doors, tilting his head to the side as he considered. “Okay. And maybe I'll make you carry some of my bags.”

“See!” Blaine nudged his shoulder into Kurt's. “I knew there'd be hard work involved.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, already zeroing in on the sale signs on the other end of the store. He snatched Blaine's hand up in his own and started tugging him the direction of those glorious red signs. Blaine whined and dragged his feet, but allowed himself to be yanked and maneuvered around the store. As Kurt started to rifle through the sales racks, Blaine stood the side and prodded a mannequin disinterestedly. “How long is this little expedition going to take?”

Kurt didn't even look up from the rack. “I can't believe you even asked me that,” he chided. “As long as it takes.”

Risking a glance up at Blaine, Kurt realized immediately it was a poor decision. Blaine was making big, brown, puppy dog eyes at him, looking like the most miserable – yet dapper – boy on the planet.

Kurt sighed. “How about,” he decided to try a different tact, “I promise I'll pick out a whole outfit for you, too? Something really fabulous.” Kurt's mind started to whirl with the possibilities. “We could get you something tight sleeved, to show off your arms. And maybe a dashing little jacket to go over that, so you can dress it up if you need to. And jeans. There's a Lucky in here, and I swear their jeans have, like, magical properties sewn into the rears.”

When he glanced up again, it was to find Blaine staring bemusedly at him. Kurt deflated.

“Oh. That's more of a bribe for me than it is for you, isn't it?”

With a sigh Blaine strode forward and wrapped his arms around Kurt, pressing his face into the crook of Kurt's neck. “Yeah,” he breathed. “But that's okay.”

Kurt beamed as he returned back to the sales rack.

 

10 am

 

Kurt's reflection in the car window was looking exceptionally fabulous today. As he was just double-checking the casual – but carefully sculpted – arch of his hair, Blaine's reflection appeared next to his, eyebrows raised in amusement. “We're going to miss our reservation if you keep fussing.”

Kurt glared at Blaine's reflection. “I am not fussing.” But then not even a second later Kurt spun on the real Blaine, excitement causing him to stand on his toes and bounce a little. “But brunch, Blaine! At the Ritz-Carlton! This is my first time ever doing something like this!”

Blaine's smile was gentle and sweet. “Mine too,” he reminded Kurt. “Now come on: this won't be our first time if they put someone else at our table. And I didn't drive almost three hours into Cleveland just to drive right back.”

Blaine extended his arm to Kurt, who practically swooned as he delicately placed his hand on Blaine's bicep and let himself be guided into the Ritz-Carlton. “We're like Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracey,” he breathed as they stepped through the doors, held open by doormen. He could feel Blaine smiling indulgently at him, but Kurt didn't care: he just clung harder to Blaine's arm and absorbed all the glitz and glamour around them.

All the waiters and waitresses were dressed up, and the silverware veritably shined against the elegant tablecloths. People in jackets and ties and pretty morning dresses all talked quietly, sitting like beautiful little decorations amidst all the elegance. And Kurt and Blaine were now two more of these elegant people!

“Hi,” Blaine stepped smoothly forward to maitre de. “We had reservations for two at ten. Under Anderson?”

At the bottom of his stomach Kurt felt a burst of butterflies at Blaine's words. A reservation for two – under Anderson. So it might be a little early for making wedding plans and thinking about who would take whose name – or would they do those hyphen-name things? – but Kurt didn't think he'd mind much if Blaine wanted him to take his name. Mr. and Mr. Anderson. Mr. Kurt Anderson.

Kurt had to reel in his fantasies if only to manage to walk to their table.

And then Blaine pulled out his chair for him. And Kurt almost fainted.

 

11 am

 

When Blaine's foot grazed him for the first time, Kurt chalked it up to an accident. After all, they were both lying on his bed together – Kurt studiously reading one of his summer reading books, Blaine less studiously listening to music on his iPod and sketching out song lyrics – in rather close proximity. Their feet were both up in the air, bellies on the bed, and it was natural that Blaine would be wiggling his feet in time with the music.

When Blaine's feet brushed Kurt's again, and more slowly, more languorously, Kurt began to suspect it wasn't quite so innocent. Dragging one eye away from his summer reading, Kurt glanced sidelong at Blaine. The other boy was the picture of innocence: eyes down on his notebook, head bobbing gently to his music. But Kurt could see the quirk of his lips that Blaine couldn't quite control.

Turning back to his book, Kurt waited, eyes unfocused on the page before him. Sure enough, Blaine's toes grazed his again, drawing a line up Kurt's ankle. Kurt pounced: throwing his legs over Blaine's and tossing his book to the side. Blaine gasped as Kurt rolled him, fingers searching out ticklish sides and pieces of skin.

Blaine's earbuds came out in the skirmish, and his notebook paper crunched beneath their bodies as they writhed, each trying to get the advantage in their impromptu tickle-war. Panting and struggling against the muscular boy beneath him, Kurt managed to maintain his position on top: Blaine's arms pinned above his head with a wrist in each of Kurt's hands, Kurt's thighs squeezed tight around Blaine's midsection.

Abruptly the air in the room shifted from playful to... something. Kurt became all-too-aware of the position he was in, in the way his chest heaved and panted. And he became aware of how Blaine looked beneath him: tousled, hair all askew, eyes wide and chest heaving as he waited, splayed out beneath Kurt like a delicious treat just ready for the taking.

The moment was broken by Finn's heavy footsteps on the stairwell, followed by the boy shouting in: “Hey Kurt, I'm using the shower!”

Quickly Kurt slid off Blaine, glancing at his perpetually-open door. There was an open-door rule at the Hummel-Hudson house: any “persons of interest” – boys for Kurt, girls for Finn – in the rooms meant the doors had to stay open. Kurt hadn't yet grown resentful of the rule... though he was beginning to see why it might prove problematic. One day. In the future.

“Go ahead!” Kurt shouted back to Finn as he and Blaine retook their far-more-innocent positions on Kurt's bed. With one last shy glance over to Blaine, who looked less than shyly back, Kurt returned his eyes to his summer reading. His attention remained elsewhere.

 

12 pm

 

“Alright, who had the hotdogs?”

Blaine jumped up from his seat, plate in hand, as he hurried over to the grill where Burt was cooking an assortment of food. Kurt remained seated, knowing that his veggie burger was going to be the last thing ready.

When Blaine returned and started piling more beans and salad onto his plate, Kurt just rolled his eyes. “You're going to get fat,” he teased.

Around a mouthful of salad, Blaine shook his head. “I'm going swimming after this. Burn off all the calories.”

Kurt rolled his eyes but said nothing. What could he say, when Blaine's chest looked like... well. Kurt certainly hadn't looked away any of the times Blaine had gone swimming in front of him, and it wasn't like he couldn't notice how incredibly fit he was. A few extra mouthfuls of beans and franks probably wasn't going to change that anytime soon.

Distracted by his musings on Blaine's sickeningly perfect chest, Kurt almost didn't notice Blaine picking up his hotdog. Distractedly Kurt sipped from his diet coke. Blaine's tongue flicked out and curled around one edge of the hot dog protruding from its bun, drawing the meaty cylinder in his mouth and then wrapping his lips around it and sucking. Kurt choked, sending carbonated sweetness up the back of his nose.

“You okay there, son?”

Kurt's eyes went even wider as he fought to hide his blush. He could feel Blaine's eyes boring into him, but Kurt refused to look back at his terrible, awful boyfriend for the time being. “Fine!” he choked. “Just... bathroom.”

With that, Kurt scrambled up from the patio table and raced inside. Just as he slid the door shut, however, he chanced one last glance back at Blaine.

Eyes locked on Kurt's, Blaine fit about half the hotdog in his mouth, past those plump lips of his, before he bit down.

Kurt raced to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

 

1 pm

 

Kurt's feet were slipping on his pedals as he tried to climb onto his borrowed mountain bike. The darn seat was set for Finn – being his bike – and he personally didn't think Blaine had lowered the seat enough, even though he said it was supposed to be that high. Meanwhile, Blaine was biking lazy circles around Kurt as he waited.

“It's okay if you don't know how to ride a bike, you know.”

Kurt steeled his jaw as he hopped onto the seat and pressed the right pedal down. “I do,” he grunted, swinging his leg up to press the left pedal down. The bike wibbled and wobbled side to side, but it started moving forward on the trail. “Dad taught me. And I might not have ridden in a while, but there's an idiom about this, isn't there?”

Blaine's shouted warning caused Kurt to jerk his head up just in time to watch himself run the front tire of Finn's bike into a tree. The bike jerked to the left, and Kurt threw his corresponding foot down just in time to keep himself upright. His groin was not thanking him, however.

With the soft sound of dirt displacing, Blaine broke to a stop next to him, concerned eyes not quite hiding the thin layer of amusement under them. “I think we need to write the idiom committee. Tell them they were wrong.”

Pushing his helmet out of his eyes, Kurt stared despondently up at Blaine. “I'm going to have the worst helmet hair ever,” he whined.

Blaine laughed and leaned off his bike to plant a quick kiss on Kurt's cheek, helmets knocking into each other. The sound of the helmets clacking together brought a smile to his face, and he sighed as he looked at Blaine. “Could we go for a hike instead? At least I'm pretty sure I can walk properly. Most of the time.”

Blaine reached an arm out and squeezed Kurt's shoulder in reassurance. “Sure. Let's just put the bikes back on your truck and we'll go for a nice walk.”

Awkwardly Kurt untangled himself from his bike and followed Blaine back to the truck. With the bikes successfully loaded back on – and Kurt's helmet hair almost fixed – Blaine held his hand out to Kurt, who took it gratefully.

 

2 pm

 

Acutely aware of the close proximity of Blaine's body, Kurt found it impossible to concentrate on something that rhymed with “Middleton”. The fact that Blaine's parents were out and they didn't have the open-door policy that the Hummel-Hudson house had made Blaine's body next to Kurt's all the more distracting. Blaine's bedroom door was closed, they were lying on the bed together, and the house was completely quiet except for the music playing softly on Blaine's speakers.

Kurt was fairly certain Blaine hadn't turned a page in his summer reading book for a half hour, either.

“Hey.”

Kurt tensed at Blaine's voice. He decided to pretend to finish a chorus he hadn't been writing before he glanced casually over at Blaine. “Yeah?”

Kurt regretted looked over at Blaine the moment he had. Blaine's face was slightly flushed, his eyes tracing a line down Kurt's neck that could only be described as lusty. Before he spoke, a sliver of pink tongue darted out and wet his lips. Kurt swallowed. “You know, we've got the house to ourselves.”

Body thrumming with nerves, Kurt turned his eyes back to his page. “Yup. Good time to get some schoolwork done, with all the quiet.”

Blaine was silent next to him as Kurt forced his pen to move back and forth across the page, although he certainly was writing anything remotely worthy of the off-Broadway stage there. He could feel Blaine's eyes watching him – his body seemed to drift closer to Kurt's even though there was no discernible motion from either boy. The air between their bodies just felt more solid suddenly to Kurt – like there wasn't really any space left at all, even though there was.

Giving up, Kurt turned to Blaine, worrying his lower lip with his teeth – chapped lips be damned. “I'm just... I feel like I need a chaperone.” Kurt winced. “Am I a freak?”

Blaine's hands were cupping his face in an instant, earnest eyes boring into his. “No. No. You're not a freak, Kurt. Don't say that.” Blaine paused, rubbing his thumb over Kurt's cheekbone while Kurt let his eyes flutter to the touch. It wasn't that he didn't want to do stuff with Blaine. He just didn't want to do too much – and he was fairly certain that once they got started, with no interruptions or adults hanging around, Kurt would very easily give into whatever Blaine wanted him to do, too much or not.

“What if,” Blaine continued, considering look in his eye. “What if I promised to keep it PG? Just kissing: just what we'd do at your house. And we can keep the door open, too.”

Kurt bit his lip some more, until Blaine moved a hand down to Kurt's lower lip and extracted it gently from his teeth. Kurt's gaze darted up to meet Blaine's, which was open and kind. Kurt nodded shyly. “Door open. And I'm sorry.”

With a soft, soothing kiss to Kurt's abused lip, Blaine bounded up from his bed to open his door. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he reminded Kurt, who nodded.

When Blaine climbed back on his bed, Kurt welcomed him with open arms. Just so long as they stuck to only kissing.

 

3 pm

 

Kurt cheered at the top of his lungs and applauded until his hands were red as Blaine took his final bow at the Six Flags show. He grabbed Mercedes' arm and grinned. “Wasn't he perfect?”

He didn't miss Mercedes' eye roll, but she was smiling good-naturedly, so he let it slide. “Yes, Kurt. Of course. Your man's always perfect.”

Kurt squeaked as the crowd started to dissipate out of the arena. “Come on! We have to go congratulate him backstage!” Kurt grabbed Mercedes' arm and started leading her to the “cast and crew only” doors on the side of the auditorium, ignoring her reluctance.

“Haven't you seen this show like, a million times?”

Now it was Kurt's turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, of course. But it's the first time you've seen it!” When they reached the doors, Kurt pushed them open with the easy surety of someone who had done this a dozen times before – which, of course, he had.

“Kurt!” A whirl of polyester and hair gel was all Kurt saw before Blaine was in his arms, hugging him to within an inch of his life. For his part, Kurt hugged back just as fiercely. “And Mercedes!” Blaine lifted his head from Kurt's shoulder long enough to to greet the girl hanging out awkwardly by the staff entrance.

“Hey Blaine.” Kurt released Blaine long enough to see Mercedes wave at him. “Great performance.”

Blaine turned to Kurt with an embarrassed smile. “I was a little flat on the second chorus-”

“No you were not!” Kurt smacked Blaine on the arm.

“I definitely was, don't even pretend like you didn't hear that note. My dad would have known it was flat, and he's tone def.”

Mercedes coughed. “I thought it was okay?” she ventured.

Blaine waved a dismissive hand. “Well thanks, but the acoustics in the auditorium are pretty forgiving.”

“Hey!” Kurt bounced as he turned back to Blaine, clinging to his arm. “You up for a quick bite before your next performance?”

“Yeah, sure!” Blaine turned back to Mercedes. “Hope you're hungry. Kurt and I have figured out the best place to eat in Six Flags. It's a bit of a park secret.”

Mercedes smiled more naturally as Blaine continued to include her in the conversation. “Yeah, sure,” she said. “That sounds great.”

Kurt squeaked again with happiness as he continued to hold onto Blaine's arm, chattering rapidly to his boyfriend and Mercedes as they hurried out to a late lunch.

 

4 pm

 

The smell of sunscreen smeared thick over his skin was almost stifling, but Kurt wasn't willing to risk even the slightest bit of skin damage. He was going to have to make a living on his skin one day, after all, and photoshop only worked in magazines: not in live theatre.

“I can't believe you're not going swimming with us.”

Suddenly glad for his sunglasses, Kurt tried to his best to subtly check his boyfriend out. He had just climbed out of the pool: water dripping in rivulets down his chest and into the “v” of his abdominal muscles to his-

Kurt's brain shorted out. There was no way he'd be able to check Blaine out subtly. So he opted for staring just past Blaine to the pool, where Puck and Finn were currently whacking the living bejeebus out of each other with styrofoam pool noodles.

“I'd rather not. I can't risk my sunscreen washing off,” Kurt finally managed.

Blaine huffed, adjusting his bright pink sunglasses as he glared down at Kurt. “You wore waterproof, didn't you?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Still. Don't worry: I've got this month's Italian Vogue.” Kurt patted the magazine on the table next to him. He didn't want to tell Blaine that the real reason he was so reluctant to go swimming – besides the fact that the chlorine was murder on his skin and hair – was that he was afraid of how his body might react with a wet, scantily-clad Blaine wrestling and playing with him in the refreshing water of the pool.

“Fine.” Blaine leaned over Kurt, dripping water all over him. Kurt couldn't find himself able to care: not with how close Blaine was, or the way the sun formed a glowing halo around his silhouette. “But can I have a kiss before I go back in?”

Kurt hesitated, glancing around the busy community pool. Everyone seemed so caught up in their own business, a quick kiss probably would go unnoticed. Taking a breath, he nodded. With permission granted, Blaine closed the gap between him and pecked Kurt quickly on the lips. When he pulled away, Kurt swept a tongue over wet lips. He could taste the chlorine from the pool. Blaine winked at Kurt one last time before dashing off, cannon-balling into the pool right next to Puck and Finn. Both boys shouted and swore at Blaine, before swimming after him in search of retribution.

For his part, Kurt curled up with his Italian Vogue, the taste of chlorine still on his lips.


Continue on to Part II.