Author's note:

As promised, another chapter.

Shorter, but that just wanted itself written.

They have been talking for over an hour now, like something gave, broke away, melted; and then the words wouldn't stop flowing.

Relaying their lives in a nutshell.

Blaine's become really talkative, as if a switch had been flipped, and Kurt enjoys looking at him opposite of himself, where Blaine has sat down in an armchair next to the couch, one leg hitched up loosely over the side rest and a plate with a piece of half frozen cake on his knee. From the way he is gesturing with the fork in his hand, eyes impossibly bright and sparkling, one wouldn't guess it was only coffee they've been drinking. Kurt smiles to himself. This is the mood of a good wine. But then again, Kurt muses, they don't need any, he wouldn't want any, wouldn't want anything other than this right now.

Blaine's richly coloured voice, and his expressive features.

.

Kurt can see the boy he knew in Blaine now once again. That dark strand, curling into his face, having come loose from his impeccably modelled hair over his agitated manner of speaking.

The very melody of that speech, his quick wit parading refined words with the easiest charm, when still he stumbles through it with that unbridled haste of passion.

The way how that piece of cake on his fork travels from plate halfway to his mouth, then back to the plate, never reaching its destination, because Blaine is so caught up in their conversation, that the thoughts and ideas and things to say just keep coming in between.

.

And how he held Kurt's hands.

Kurt's heart warms at the mere thought.

They aren't holding hands right now, since they decided they wanted to eat something, and Blaine sat down in the armchair to be able to look at Kurt more comfortably while talking.

But Blaine had been holding Kurt's hands the entire time before that, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

And Kurt remembers how much he had liked it back on that playground, remembers thinking the thought back then of how it had felt so nice, but can't seem to retrace the emotion that had gone along with it, in the face of this powerful new one now, of holding hands again with Blaine, and what it does to Kurt.

So much has happened to Kurt since those days and he is not the same. Then, it was the first time someone had held hands with him. Now it feels exceptional for different reasons altogether.

People have held his hand since. But, in fact and with time passing, holding hands had become neglected over being able and apt to do more.

.

The thought brings Kurt's awareness back to the man so close to him that Kurt's foot could actually touch Blaine's under the low living room table, if Kurt only let it. He doesn't.

Instead, Kurt has his eyes sweep over the other one's sitting form once more exploringly, down from his ankles up to this mouth; and by now Blaine has finally managed to get a bite of cake in between lips lightly closing around the fork, and Kurt doesn't want to ponder why that makes himself stare in the way he is sure he is staring.

.

This here is different, after all. Of course there have been moments, during this short time since they have met again, when Kurt was temped to let the impact of the moment take over. The way Blaine looks at him gives him chills and sends shivers all along his skin, in a good way, a very good way. Even if a small part of his mind can't be convinced that it should be like that. Can be like that.

Of course he has been aware of that attraction between them, almost achingly, feels drawn towards that man he knows practically nothing about with a force that keeps said part of him worrying in the way it does. Because Kurt never has been the kind to lose himself with someone so quickly.

Infatuation, yes, maybe, the romantic idea of it. But not going home with someone the first night he met them.

Kurt shifts in his seat at a small oblivious sound that Blaine makes in appreciation of the cake.

And for a moment his train of thoughts is interrupted, but he finds it again eventually.

Going home meaning going to bed together. He doesn't judge people who do, for whatever reasons they choose, but he always thought it just was not for him. He tried some time, but didn't go through with it.

Because ultimately none of that had that quality he's been looking for.

That sense of certainty, or intimacy. Light and easy yet profound and serious in the best way possible.

.

Like it is here in that room now.

Kurt swallows a bite of his own cake and washes it down with his espresso, relishing how on his tongue thawing cool meets hot, and sweet mingles with that tart dark taste into the perfect mix.

It is here, he repeats to himself, and that is what makes this different.

Because Kurt just knows, that what is flowing underneath makes sure they won't risk what they have, what they could have, will have, over the rush of a passionate encounter.

Kurt rearranges himself slightly on the couch.

Well, maybe, that very same thing flowing underneath would make sure, that what they have and could have never actually would be at risk, even if they gave in to a... That reliable censor inside cuts the thought short there, but not before Kurt feels heat rising throughout his body.

.

Just then a loud rumble picks this very moment to make itself heard and both of them start.

The rain outside has build up into a massive storm, all the while they have been talking.

The deafening sound drags on, renewing itself, and Kurt watches Blaine's eyes widen, his shoulders moving slightly up ear wards. Blaine jerks, as yet another crack of thunder resounds, puts a bite of cake into his mouth and mumbles soothingly to himself around it.

Kurt is sure that must be the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

He laughs, immediately captured, voice incredulous:

"Blaine, are you afraid of thunderstorms?"

Blaine turns troubled eyes at him, and blinks a little as if to check himself. He lets his look sink to the plate together with the fork.

"Well, I can't say I like them too much." It is not much more than a grumble paired with a sigh.

The flutter inside Kurt solidifies into the warmest feeling of endearment. He tilts his head to the side, resuming a mock expression of reprimand:

"But Blaine, a great wizard such as yourself, what could that bad, bad weather possibly do to you?"

Now both are laughing and Kurt can see some of the tension leave Blaine's posture. Then Blaine actually leans back, to point the fork at Kurt, features lighting up.

"You know, about that, I think I finally figured out how my magic works for me..."

Kurt can only smile at the twinkle in those brown eyes, that doesn't cease now over the next roll of thunder, and remind himself to keep breathing. "And how is that?"

Blaine jabs the air some more with the fork, leans back further, comfortably even, and makes his lips into a thoughtful pout while his eyes narrow at the ceiling for a moment.

"The magic is in the beauty of things." Blaine speaks in a serious explanatory tone, all the while overdoing it a little, so that his own amusement shows over the big words he uses.

"So magic is made of beauty just as beauty is made of magic." He raises his brows cleverly.

"And beauty is made of truth. Not a truth that bothers too much with facts, but with the essence of things." Blaine meets Kurt's eyes with a nod and sparkling eyes and concludes:

"So that makes magic the thing that is ultimately most real to me. That feels the most real."

Kurt puts his own finished plate to side on the table, and suddenly feels a little naked without it on his lap, so he folds his hands there instead.

"So, magic is real?" Kurt's tone is amused, but mostly he just wants to prompt Blaine to talk some more in that captivating manner with Blaine's cheeks colouring continuously.

"Well, it's what's real to me. I know beauty is not an objective thing, just as truth isn't and reality isn't when it comes down to it.

I can only see this world, my world, through my eyes. And if I want to put a pink frame around the world that I see, so then be it." Blaine shrugs and his eyebrows dance.

"So I choose to see magic, to call it that, all the things that touch me. So... magic is real to me." Another light movement of his shoulders. "The magic is in me."

He drifts, then adds as an after thought, giving his voice the most dry matter of fact tone.

"Well, then of course, really, because I'm a wizard."

He tries to hide the ironic twist around his lips, but then gives up, and they both grin at each other. Kurt laughs:

"Oh, so the wizard has finally gotten his powers?"

Blaine cocks head to side, nodding to himself and at a spot above Kurt's head before he meets his eyes genially:

"You know what? I think he has."

"Good. Then use it." Kurt's voice is warm and affectionate; he has his head propped up in his hand, his elbow on the side rest. He realizes his expression must be nothing short of dreamy, but Blaine has lowered his eyes in thought lost momentarily in the echoes of their words.

"Oh, I intend to." Blaine speaks without looking up. There's light resolution in his voice, and contentment over it. He pushes at his cake with the fork, then glances up to Kurt, only to halt midway, as he seems to do a double take at something. Some moments pass, the only movement being from Blaine's breathing, his eyes glued to the plate again, fork stuck in the remainder of his cake. A debate is on his face, probably whether he should say what has come to his mind, or not. His half-smile twitches unsurely for an instant.

But then he finally looks up, and his eyes are of a darker shade than before. So is the chuckle in his voice that almost doesn't waver.

Kurt swallows before Blaine even speaks.

"Kurt, did you just invite me to work my magic?" A surge of heat strikes Kurt, and rises to his cheeks immediately. "Because it sounded like it..."

Blaine is looking at him again much like he did all those times before, like before he kissed Kurt, but there is something added to it now, a more conscious form of wilfulness, a deeper hint of purpose.

Kurt's mouth opens and closes again, the blistering flush of his skin spreading slowly but steadily everywhere, very much in time with the smile on his face, before he can think to stop it.

And then he just doesn't. And decides to let it unfurl.

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