I Know You Get Me

Part One: The Mission

It had been a week since Blaine and Kurt had confronted Karofsky about the kissing fiasco. It wasn't an event Kurt particularly preferred to linger on. Every time even the slightest flicker of a thought of the abominable act crossed his mind, a pelting of painful memories of that traumatizing humiliation overwhelmed his psyche. Karofsky had stolen something from him that should have been Kurt's to freely and willingly give. Instead, he had been used—tried out like a new pair of jeans, then needlessly shoved to the back of the closet, after realizing they weren't exactly what they wanted.

Blaine tried his best to reassure Kurt, "It's not like it even really counts as your first kiss. If you didn't return it, then it wasn't a real kiss. It was more like…mouth rape."

Kurt had to admit, having Blaine there to talk to was the most superlative therapy he could ever hope to obtain. Blaine had this way with words, with a smile to match. Blaine could make him see the single light in the dark that no one else ever could. And those eyes. The deep, penetrating darkness they possessed, yet outlined with caressing softness. They seemed to swallow Kurt whole sometimes, as if he became entirely unaware of anything else in the universe but their hazel poignancy. And that velvet voice that caused him to go weak at the knees…

Kurt couldn't help but wonder if Blaine had the slightest inkling that he was falling madly in love with him…and that he had a mission.

"What's wrong?" Blaine's eyebrows furrowed in that adorable look of concern he always got. Kurt sat down at their lunch table, his distressed expression not attempting to hide the thoughts underneath.

"Just…don't worry about it," Kurt replied softly. He couldn't help but think that Blaine would get annoyed, listening to his repetitious sob stories about his "feelings". Especially when the majority of the time, the pain was usually spawned from his brain constantly running back to that moment in the locker room.

"I willworry about it, Kurt," Blaine reached his hand across the table, and placed it on top of Kurt's. For a moment, goose bumps shot up Kurt's arm. "I like seeing you happy. And I'm here to help. Full, 24-hour service!" he announced in a hearty voice, followed by a jovial "gung-ho" arm gesture. Once again, Kurt was powerless against his charm, and cracked a smile.

"Ah, there's that smile I know and love," Blaine said quietly, with that beautiful half-smile.

Ignoring the slight acceleration of his heart due to that last remark, Kurt replied, "It just seems like you would get sick of hearing me complain about Karofsky all the time. As if you should be like, 'Chill out, it was just a stupid kiss.' Which it was! It was just a stupid kiss!" Kurt banged his fist lightly on the table. "Why am I so beat up about this?"

The look of concern flowed across Blaine's face once again, "Kurt, you have every right to ruffle your feathers about this. You've been through a very traumatic ordeal. And I'll be damned if I take away your constitutional right to bitch-fit."

Kurt smiled again. Oh, that way he could make him smile. He couldn't help but think that maybe the reason he was so upset about Karofsky kissing him in the first place, is because he already had such strong feelings for someone else. Someone he actually stood as a candidate for.

"I'll tell you what," Blaine started with a child-like smile, "how about you come over to chez moi tonight? It's Friday. We can try to get your mind off of everything. Something outside the school atmosphere. Something not so…proper?" Blaine raised an eyebrow, indicating to their uniforms.

Kurt had a feeling that Blaine's idea of "not so proper" was entirely tamer than his perception of the phrase. However, he gleefully accepted, eager to spend as much time with him as possible. After all, it seemed like Blaine generally wanted to hang out with him, right?

"At least until he figures out my real, selfish motives," he thought.

With the prospect of tonight, the rest of the day seemed to drag on for Kurt. When the final bell rang, he all but sprinted to his locker. He found himself grinning stupidly as he gazed upon Blaine, who was leaning against Kurt's locker, satchel already toted on his arm. The picture of perfection. That unintentionally heart-stopping smile, the beautiful lips, the triangular eyebrows that raised when he saw Kurt coming.

Blaine handed Kurt his bag, which he had apparently stolen from his locker. Kurt's mind shot back to his second day at Dalton, remembering when he gave Blaine his combination, after having forgotten one of his books. Blaine had very chivalrously insisted on retrieving it for him. He obviously still remembered the combination. Well, he's certainly eager enough to prevent any wasted time.

"You write my combination down with a heart around it after I gave it to you?" Kurt said with a coy smile. Two could play at the teasing game, whether Blaine thought it was a game or not.

"As well as a rainbow and some unicorns," Blaine quipped, smirking.

"Touché."

They walked to Blaine's car together; a sleek, black mustang that was truly a thing of beauty, even for someone who couldn't give half a care about cars. Blaine opened the passenger side door for Kurt, and waved his arm and bowed his head in an "in you go, sir" fashion. Always the gentleman…

"So, does this mean you're taking me to meet your parents? It's a little soon for that, I admit, but you know, whatever you think is right…" said Kurt playfully, after they were on their way.

"Ha. No, actually. They're out of town for a few days. I figured I wouldn't subject you to the rapid-fire questionnaires that are my blood relations." Blaine responded, keeping his eyes on the road.

"So, we'll be there…alone?" Blaine snuck a look sideways to Kurt.

"I suppose…" he replied nonchalantly.

"Well, you didn't tell me that. Just so you know, date rape is a felony." Kurt replied with a smirk.

Blaine held his sleeve up to Kurt's nose, "Does this smell like chloroform to you?" Kurt let out a genuine laugh. Blaine laughed along.

When they reached Blaine's house—if you could call it a house; it was more like a small mansion—Blaine parked the car out front. He quickly ran around to Kurt's door, and held out his hand to help him out of the car. Kurt accepted it graciously, expecting to release it once he was back on the ground. However, Blaine held his hand firmly as they walked to the front door, causing Kurt's mind to race and his heart to flutter. Did he have any idea what he was doing to him?

The inside was even more extravagant than the outside. Giant columns graced either side of the expansive foyer, expensive paintings adorned the walls, fancy furniture—which was surely just for aesthetic purposes—was placed expertly around the house. Not like Kurt noticed all that much; his eyes were almost exclusively fixed on Blaine in determination. Blaine didn't even seem to notice, nor take much notice at all in their still intertwined hands.

"It's not much, but it's home," he said sarcastically. "Come on, I'll show you my room." Still holding Kurt's hand, Blaine led him down a hallway to the right, till they arrived at a pair of double doors on the left.

"Welcome to La Chambre de Blaine." He said, opening the doors. There was a gigantic bed, a comfy looking couch off to the side, a desk, a shiny laptop, and a giant widescreen TV, as well as a gigantic collection of vinyl records and a fancy record player in the corner. Framed posters of various Broadway musicals decorated his walls—not in a tacky, haphazard, classic teenager way, but in a very tasteful manner. Kurt couldn't help but admire the artistic appeal of the room.

"I love it!" Kurt said.

"I'm quite partial to it myself," he stated. They pulled off their Dalton jackets and hung them on the coat rack beside the door. Blaine once again clasped Kurt's hand, and led him to the couch. Once comfortably seated, he casually reclaimed his hand from Kurt and placed it leisurely over the back of the couch. Kurt was attempting to keep himself in a fairly reserved position, not wanting to appear too presumptuous right off the bat.

"Blaine, I really can't thank you enough for all that you've done. You've helped me through so much. You've made me realize that I am not on my own. There is someone out there who doesn't just sympathize, but empathizes. Someone who can love me for me..." Throughout this heart-spill, Kurt had pulled his feet up on the couch and sat on them, not exactly caring if it wasn't the politest thing to do on someone else's couch.

Blaine grinned, "It's what I'm here for, I'm telling you. Everyone deserves someone to talk to who understands. I'm your man."

"You're…you're my…man?" questioned Kurt hopefully, dripping with desire and double meaning. The moment was coming. He was sure of it.

"Of course, Kurt!" He replied, rolling his eyes teasingly, in accompaniment with a teeth-glistening smile. Kurt smiled shyly in return.

Gradually building up courage, Kurt placed his hand gently on Blaine's thigh. Blaine's eyes darted toward the hand on his leg, and then back up to Kurt, whose eyes were boring into his. He wasn't positive how to respond, that slightly open-mouthed face of intrigued confusion gracing his visage.

Leaning dangerously toward Blaine, Kurt whispered, "Is this 'not so proper' enough for you?" He proceeded to eliminate the space between their faces completely, grasping either side of Blaine's face softly. Slowly, but with a strange unyielding confidence that did not resonate with how he was feeling inside, Kurt pulled Blaine's mouth to his.

A moment of pure ecstasy flowed through Kurt, having completed the mission he had set out to do, in conjunction with the soft, unparalleled beauty of the feeling of Blaine's lips on his. It lasted only a few seconds before Kurt pulled away momentarily, his eyes fixed on those lips that had just been on his. As if not able to resist himself, Kurt went in a second time. This time, a bit more purposefully, almost oblivious to the person in possession of the lips, in favor of the lips themselves. Kurt steadily pressed Blaine down on the couch, allowing himself to get caught up in this triumphant victory. Nothing could possibly go wrong with this moment…until…

"Kurt...I can't. I just…I can't," Blaine detached himself from Kurt promptly, pulling himself back into a sitting position, leaving Kurt propped up by his hands, hovering over his legs. In utter, incredulous dejection, Kurt thrust himself up to sit on his legs, staring into Blaine's eyes. Tears were quickly welling in his own, as Blaine's face took on a very pained expression. "I'm sorry. It just…doesn't feel right. I don't know." Kurt felt his heart drop 50 floors. The sheer humiliation was turning his tears of rejection rapidly to tears of anger.

"I don't feel right, is what you mean," Kurt glared straight into Blaine's eyes.

"No! God. Kurt. That's NOT what I meant," Blaine tried desperately as he could to make him understand, "It's not you-"

"Oh! 'It's not you, it's me', is that it!"

"Kurt! That's not-"

But Kurt had already snatched up his jacket and stormed out of the room, headed back toward the front door. He had experienced enough rejection for a lifetime. He didn't have to deal with this, no matter how much he knew it already hurt. He was half-way through the open front door.

"Kurt, don't go. Please," begged Blaine. Kurt ignored him. "You don't even have a car! Where are you going to go?"

"I don't care," Kurt shot back at him, "just not here." He looked down at the Dalton jacket in his hands for a moment, then launched it in Blaine's face. He slammed the door as Blaine stared down at the abandoned jacket in his hands, then longingly at the closed door.

If only he had let him explain.