A/N: I always forget to put these little introductory snippets at the beginning, so, here goes before I forget to do it. This is a little idea that kind of jumped out at me one day while I was looking at the sports equipment building just outside of the bleachers at my own school. I wrote it in one sitting, and edited it in a second. I didn't have a beta, but wanted to post it anyway. So, if you spot any mistakes, they are all mine.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. Fox owns Glee. Sorry if you're disappointed, but I will not be selling cute little Kurt bobble-heads at this time.

On with the fic.

"Yeah, you'd better run. Shirt-lifter." The voice was getting closer. Kurt was running out of places to hide.

Kurt's chest heaved as he stood, gasping for air, his back sore from where it was pressing hard against the brick wall behind him. He sucked in another breath, trying to make himself as small as possible. It was hard to think with so much blood pounding in his ears, especially when his inner queen was too busy flailing like a ninny to be of any help.

The rest of his functioning brain was decidedly unsympathetic. Be a MAN for once, Hummel. You have GOT to be tough, now. You have to think.

He peeked around the corner for signs of movement. Quick, think of somebody tough.

At once, the frightening memory of Mercedes after she had discovered Kurt was in love with somebody else sprung to mind.

He squirmed against the cold brick wall, and berated himself inwardly for his weakness. Even now, virtually seconds away from the worst paint-ball experience of his high school existence, he couldn't help but be distracted by how repulsive this whole situation was.

He just knew those bricks were ruining his very last genuine cashmere-turtleneck combo sweater.

However, all thoughts of hygiene fled him as Jenkins called out again, this time even closer. The swish-splat of someone spitting on brick, just a couple of feet and around the corner from where Kurt was standing, made Kurt's stomach recoil in fear and disgust.

He darted quickly to his right, ducking behind a nearby dumpster for cover, but shrank back again almost immediately as he realized he'd already been this way just a few minutes before.

Kurt cursed. Jenkins already knew about all of Kurt's usual hideouts.

Kurt scanned the perimeter hastily, his gaze finally coming to rest on a small, dirty little shed just a couple hundred feet from where he stood. It was partially hidden by the bleachers, and probably filled to bursting with old, sweaty sports equipment. It was probably also uncomfortable, hot, and therefore a terrible hiding place. But, then again, beggars couldn't be choosers, could they? Kurt thought about making a run for it. He didn't have many options.

The dash would be risky. The stretch of land between the shed and where Kurt was standing wide open. Jenkins would have a clear shot to the back of his head if Kurt failed to get there quick enough. And for all he knew, the shed was locked.

But fortune was smiling down on him. Another taunt was thrown his way, but it was coming from a great distance, so that Kurt could barely hear it. "Here, faggity faggy fag… here faggity fag…"

Kurt knew this would be his only chance. If Jenkins switched directions again, he'd spot Kurt running for sure, and Kurt would be a goner.

Lungs burning, Kurt took the chance. After what seemed like an eternity, and after checking to make sure Jenkins was still out of sight, Kurt made it to the shed's door with no troubles. He tried the handle. It was unlocked.

His smiled in relief, and pulled the door wide open. He froze mid-yank, however, when a panicky voice called out from within: "DON'T SHOOT!"

Kurt peered into the darkness, and thought he recognized the figure huddled in the corner. "Finn?" He scream whispered. "What are you doing here?"

Finn's eyes were squeezed shut, his arms in front of him in a defensive stance and his shoulders curled inward. At Kurt's words, he twitched, squinting at Kurt from between his fingers.

Finn hissed in response. "Kurt? What are you—no, wait. Is he still out there?"

Kurt looked behind him. "Who? Jenkins?" He turned back, nodding. "Yeah, he's still out here, roaming around. For now, at least." Finn cursed. Kurt meanwhile stared at Finn incredulously. "But why are you afraid of him?"

"Shit. Shut up, okay? Things haven't been going so well on the team." A noise, about a hundred paces to their left, cut the conversation short. At once, Finn reached out and yanked Kurt's sweater, pulling him in by the scruff of the neck. With one foot, he attempted to nudge the sliding door closed as they entered, but didn't quite manage it. "Shit, shit, shit…" Finn fumbled, casting his arm out blindly in search of the handle. He found it, and pulled, causing the door to squeak-slide-SLAM, and shrouding the pair of them in total darkness.

When the shock of the sudden blackness lessened enough for rational thought to take over, the first thing that registered in Kurt's was just how close Finn was standing to him. The second was that Kurt had been correct before—this really was a terrible hiding place. There wasn't enough space to crouch, and very little room for standing.

The third thing that registered was the ominous 'click' that sounded from the general direction of the door. The both of them froze, listening.

"Shit," Finn said again.

Kurt was upset too, but that was no excuse for profanity. He glared in the direction he thought Finn's head probably was and hissed "SHHH!"

The both of them were quiet for quite some time, their eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light that glowed through a thin crack beneath the door. Several minutes passed, but there was not a peep to be heard from Jenkins. Perhaps he'd given up?

Of course, Kurt was less than eager to test the theory. As his vision continued to improve, he became very aware of the fact that he was actually standing much closer to the taller boy than he'd initially supposed. It was making him sweat. And Kurt HATED sweat. The skin beneath his turtleneck was getting clammy, and Kurt's palms were damp.

Meanwhile, Finn didn't sound like he was breathing at all; probably he was in the midst of his own personal masculinity crisis, what with having to stand so close to the gay kid—the same gay kid that Finn knew had a stupid crush on him.

Oh this is just brilliant! Kurt thought. Perfect, in fact.

"Try the handle," he hissed at Finn after several uncomfortable seconds of silence. Kurt's feet were starting to hurt already. The pain helped him focus a little more on how much he wanted to get out of the stupid little shed, preferably as soon as possible—and less on how much he longed to stand even closer to Finn, preferably for the rest of his life.

It was all very sad.

Finn obeyed, tugging the handle once, twice, three times. The shed floor vibrated from the force of Finn's ministrations, but the door refused to budge. Finn finally let go with groan. "Shit! We're never getting out."

A pause, in which Kurt rubbed his throbbing temples in an attempt to come up with a plan, and Finn hyperventilated.

"Never… getting out! Kurt, I don't have my phone. No one even knows we're here! … Oh shit, oh SHI-- well, except for Jenkins." Finn grabbed the handle again, this time putting his whole back into it and making the entire shed shake dangerously—but still to no avail. "Crap, Kurt! What are we gonna do? Holy mother of… Fuck! Fuuuuuuuuuuck! Fuuuuuuuuu--"

"Finn! Be a dear, and shut up." Kurt grappled with Finn's shoulders to stop his useless assaults on the shed door. "We've got to think about this rationally." Privately, he wondered yet again how he could ever have fallen in love with this guy.

"We may be trapped—for now. But more importantly, there's a homophobic lunatic out there who wants my—our… blood, and is just waiting for us somewhere out there. Carrying, I might add, nothing less than a paint-ball gun. Those things burn like hell."

Finn rearranged a couple of lacrosse sticks that were leaning against their legs and flopped onto an upturned bucket in despair. A nearby tower of Frisbees wobbled precariously.

"Worst-case-scenario, we can just…" Kurt looked around. "…Find something in here to break the hinges off the door. Or something. At least, while we're in here, we're safe—so long as we don't draw attention to ourselves.

Finn nodded from his position on the bucket. Kurt crossed his arms. He knew Finn was too busy being distraught to think very far outside of himself at the moment, but it was getting extremely uncomfortable standing in the same position for long. If they were gonna be hear a while, something was gonna have to change.

"Finn, sweetie?" Finn looked up.

"Huh?"

"Move over."

Much shuffling ensued, accompanied by plenty of cursing on all sides and a small "oomf" when a soccer ball landed on Finn's head.

"Stop making so much noise!"

"Sorry."

It was all very awkward. After all, they were sitting on a bucket. The same bucket.

Enough said.

In all actuality, there was one other option in the way of seating arrangements, but Kurt wisely kept that particular idea to himself.

That had been ten minutes ago. As it was, both of their thighs were killing them from the effort of staying balanced, and Kurt's right butt cheek was sore—not to mention his temper. Even using Finn's letterman jacket as cushioning did little to improve the mood or comfort level. The novelty of maintaining skin contact with his crush for this long was beginning to wear off, and Kurt was feeling rather testy.

"Stop hogging the bucket."

"I'm doing my best." A pause. "This is no picnic for me either, you know."

"Well, it's certainly not my fault your butt is as freakishly large as the rest of you."

"…Wow, Kurt. That was… Kind of mean."

"Yeah, well you're kind of dumb."

"…"

"Stop being such a baby."

"Why don't you stop being so bossy?"

Kurt squeaked. "Excuse me?"

"…You heard me."

"You. Are. Impossible!"

"And you're ridiculous."

Kurt flailed his arms, the shift in weight causing the bucket beneath them to buckle ever so slightly inward. But they were both too caught up in the argument to notice.

"Unbelievable. I can't believe I actually thought I liked—" Kurt bit his lip.

"What?"

A pause. Kurt sighed, seeing Finn's furrowed brow and confused stare.

"Nothing, forget it."

More agonizing stillness. And then Finn moved. Just an inch, so that it hardly made a difference. But the gesture still felt significant anyhow. Kurt felt compelled to acknowledge it.

"…Thanks, Finn." Kurt gave him a hesitant smile in the dark.

The next few minutes passed in a sort of reluctant harmony, the both of them bravely and silently ignoring the pain in their hips and skin in the name of holding the peace. It was more boring this way, but markedly less irritating.

Kurt began counting Finn's breaths. The boy breathed rather loudly, so it wasn't hard. Everything about Finn seemed oversized, even his lungs.

That of course led to a different, more interesting train of thought. Kurt felt his cheeks flush.

While Kurt privately chastised himself, they heard it. A small popping sound, like split plastic, followed by a 'cruuuuunch… CRACK.'

They looked down in unison. "Shit."

The bucket collapsed in on itself, splitting into three large pieces. Finn jumped up just in time, the momentum dragging the smaller boy upward as well due to the fact he was clutching Finn's arm in a vice grip.

They looked at each other, and took in the mess with wide eyes.

"You okay?"

"…Yeah. Fine."

When his heart stopped having a seizure, Kurt spared a moment to chuckle, with something akin to relief. Finn joined in as well, and threw the ruined plastic into a tub full of basketballs. After a moment of looking around, he finally sat down cross-legged in the space that the bucket had occupied seconds before.

Finn shrugged up at Kurt. Kurt crossed his arms, almost irritated, but thought that perhaps he didn't mind standing after all. Not after Finn's quick thinking had spared them both from a nasty fall. He tried not to think about how close Finn's head was to his… hips, and instead focused on the matter at hand.

"That was way too close," Kurt said finally, shuddering. "And a good save." He smiled down at the quarterback.

Finn smiled and nodded Kurt in agreement. "Thanks. It was kinda dumb to think the bucket would hold both of our weights." He paused, and chuckled. "Especially mine. You probably had nothing to do with it." For a second, Finn looked slightly guilty that Kurt had to stand while he got to sit. Kurt wondered that the guy was so easy to read. Really, his face was like an open book.

"Here," Finn said at last, patting his thigh. "It's not fair to make you stand like that."

Kurt stared. His stomach turned inside out. "Thanks… but that's really not necessary." He felt his cheeks grow warm. "Really."

Finn gestured a second time, unfazed. "Go ahead, man. I mean it, it's fine. We'll probably be here a while, right? And it's not like there's anywhere else for you to sit."

Kurt swallowed shakily, and tried not to panic. He couldn't believe his ears, but God be damned if Kurt was going to give up an opportunity like this.

Oh, yes, he was definitely going to Hell. "…Okay."

Finn leaned back against the Frisbee tower and held his arms to his sides. Kurt stepped forward and bent down close to Finn's knee, his attempts to rotate himself carried out with uncharacteristic gracelessness. In his defense, his knees had stopped being knees about five minutes ago, and who in the world could coordinate in the dark when their crush was five inches away from their—? He swallowed. This can only end in tears.

Kurt finally settled down—but unfortunately, right onto something bony and surprisingly painful. Finn stiffened and winced as Kurt gave it more weight, and Kurt leapt up again at once, alarmed at the way Finn was rubbing his leg. "Oh God, Finn, I am so sorry. Am I too heavy? Did I hurt you?"

Finn looked up. "You're not too heavy, I just didn't know you'd sit on my knee like that. You can… try it again, if you want, just aim closer to actual flesh this time." He pointed at his thigh.

Kurt nodded, trying not to let those words get his hopes up. He knew Finn didn't mean he wanted Kurt to get closer for that reason—it was all just a matter of comfort. Logically, he knew that. He really did.

Of course, that didn't stop his heart from hammering in his chest as Kurt lowered himself onto Finn's thigh, strung tight with the knowledge of just how close he was sitting to… little Finn.

Splendid. What was worse was that little Kurt had already started to get excited. Kurt cleared his throat. If he could distract Finn long enough, maybe he wouldn't notice?

"I can't hear anything—can you?" Kurt whispered, gesturing toward the door with a thumb.

They listened. Finn sucked in a careful breath. "…No. Do you think Jenkins is gone?"

"Maybe. I can't be sure. We should probably… wait a little while longer, though."

"You think?"

Kurt shuddered. His pants were getting uncomfortably tight. Of course, they had been rather tight in the first place, but that was another matter entirely. "…Yeah. I think we'd better."

Finn's thigh muscle twitched beneath Kurt, clenching a little. Kurt sucked in a breath of his own. That was it. Kurt couldn't take it anymore. He made as if to get up, but strong arms encircled Kurt's waist before he could and held him there.

"Relax, okay? You aren't hurting me, I promise." Finn's breath was oddly low.

Kurt shivered, squeezing his eyes shut. Oh god. Finn really shouldn't be allowed to say things like that, not in that breathy tone of voice, and not so close to Kurt's ear.

Finn's arms were still around Kurt's waist, and the heat of them seared through Kurt's shirt, seeped into his blood, and went straight to his groin. He bit back a moan. This was so totally unfair.

"Kurt—are you okay? You seem kind of tense."

"Fine!" Kurt squeaked. "Just—fine."

Finn chuckled. Suddenly, Kurt noticed something happening beneath his own thigh. Was it Kurt's imagination, or was Finn—

Haha, NO. Kurt laughed at himself. The very idea was ludicrous. Finn was straighter than an arrow, and had the hots for Rachel besides. There was no way that Finn Hudson—star quarterback for the football team and with scads of women to choose from now that he was no longer dating Quinn—would be caught dead flirting with a small, pathetic little shrimp like Kurt. No matter how cute he looked in these pants.

Guys like Finn just didn't care about things like taste. Or other guys, for that matter.

Finn squeezed Kurt's sides, interrupting his thoughts and making Kurt jump about a foot in the air. Finn sniggered at Kurt's reaction, and frankly, it pissed Kurt off. He smacked Finn's shoulder.

"You're impossible!" Finn just grinned in response, and reached out once again so he could assault Kurt's sensitive flesh. Kurt blocked the movement, grabbing Finn's left hand and then his right with both his hands. He rotated in Finn's lap so he could glare at him more effectively. "No!"

Finn's left hand broke from Kurt's grip, distracting him while the other hand snaked around to Kurt's belly and proceeded to tickle him mercilessly. "Ahhhh! No, I'm ticklish—don't—!" Kurt jerked away from the contact, but Finn's arm held him in place and continued his assault. Finn was laughing low under his breath, and Kurt gasped in fear and arousal. He did NOT, under any circumstances, want Finn finding out about the party happening in his jeans. But Finn was blocking his every attempt to escape. One of Finn's fingers wandered dangerously close to Kurt's low beltline, and Kurt's heart jumped into his throat. He bit back a moan.

Another pinch to the side made Kurt curl in on himself, and Finn, still laughing, took advantage of the position to draw Kurt flush against his chest. Kurt had to bite back yet another moan with the increased contact. The proximity was making it hard for him to breathe, let alone resist. He was so turned on it made all this wriggling around physically painful.

Kurt was close to hysterics. Finn was holding him in place with his bent knees pressed tight against either side of his waist and his upper arm applying pressure to Kurt's shoulders, so that no amount of wriggling allowed him to escape Finn's monster grip. The tickling, the pinching, the squeezing, the sensation of Finn's fingertips against Kurt's belly—all of it was too much. This time, he couldn't contain a loud moan of pleasure, but Finn either didn't notice or didn't realize what the sound meant, because a second later a poorly aimed pinch landed just inches from Kurt's erection. The contact was so shocking it caused Kurt to jerk backward in Finn's embrace and his hips to press tight against the vee of Finn's jeans.

Kurt suddenly froze, breathing hard. Finn had stopped as well, and at once there was a long, drawn out silence.

This time, there was no mistaking it. Something hot and stiff was digging into the small of his back—something that felt way too long to be a cell phone. Neither of them moved for several moments.

Then slowly, carefully, and hardly believing his own daring, Kurt leaned back farther, pressing the whole of his back against Finn's chest and groin. The hard something twitched inside Finn's clothes. Finn's pulse was racing, and he was breathing even more loudly then normal.

Oh God.

He knew not what earthly or heavenly spirit compelled him, but suddenly Kurt's body did not belong to him anymore-- it began grinding confidently against Finn's trapped length in slow, sensuous movements.

Instead of freezing or throwing Kurt off, like Kurt half expected, Finn's only response was to groan quietly and after a few moments pull Kurt even tighter against him. Kurt's blood pounded in his ears, and his brain officially shut down all rational thought processes. Unbidden, his hips repeated the gesture, this time more quickly and with more pressure. Finn moaned again, louder. His fingers gripped Kurt's waist as he began to force himself against Kurt's backside.

"Please, don't stop…" Kurt whimpered, then opened his eyes wide in sudden fear as Finn tensed behind him at the sound of his voice.

This was it. Kurt had stupidly gone and opened his mouth, and ruined everything. Now Finn would never want to come near him again. He could feel the taller boy's heart beating wildly against the skin of his back, and the muscles of Finn's arms clenched tight over Kurt's shoulders. He panicked momentarily when Finn didn't respond, and in fact ceased moving all together. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, then made a decision. He disentangled Finn's arms from his shoulders, and began to stand.

"Finn? I'm not—I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—this was a mistake."

He awkwardly escaped from between Finn's legs, and Finn let him stand.

But he had taken no more than a step when he felt an arm grab his shirt and spin him bodily around, slamming him into the shed door. The floor shook, and Kurt looked up in fear as Finn's simmering eyes met his own.

Fear became shock as he registered not danger in those eyes, or disgust—but something entirely different.

There was no more room for thought as Finn's lips crashed against his own, and suddenly, there was no need for thinking either. Kurt groaned. It hurt—he'd never thought kissing would be this painful. But he'd also never known it could be this hot, either. What were bruises, in comparison to this? Finn had twin fistfuls of Kurt's precious cashmere, but for once, Kurt couldn't care less.

Finn moved down to nip and suck on the skin of Kurt's neck. This, too, was new, and felt way better than it had any right to be. It was like there was a synapse connecting Finn's teeth directly to Kurt's cock.

Then Finn bit down. Hard.

"Ow!" Kurt whimpered. A tongue licked carefully at the spot, and the pain lessened somewhat. The combined effects of Finn's mouth against his skin and the way Finn was pressing him against the door made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. If Finn hadn't been holding him up by the ruff, he would have swooned.

A noise just outside the door made them jump apart, and Kurt slam his head against the door. He bit his lip, trying not to cry out, in case it was Jenkins.

"Kurt? Is that you in there?" It was Mercedes.

Neither of them moved. Kurt looked into Finn's eyes, who was looking back, and watched as rationality started to replace the lust that had filled them just moments before. The fear of being so close to getting caught had tempered both of their libidos considerably. Kurt shut out the look in Finn's eyes, not willing to face the awkward apologies or shameful denials of guilt. He called out to Mercedes.

"I'm in here. I can't get out, though. Do you think you could open the door from outside?"

"Oh, Jesus Mary. You locked yourself in? How'd you even manage to—oh, never mind. Just stand back for a minute." She paused. "Boy, you are so explaining this later. Got it?"

"Fine, just—let us out!"

Dead silence on the other side of the door. Kurt could have kicked himself.

"I'm gonna ignore you just said that for a minute, in the interest of getting you out in a timely fashion. But I mean it. When you get out: HELL's waiting for you. Now stand. Back."

Kurt complied, not meeting Finn's gaze. Mercedes began kicking the door furiously from the other side.

"That's not going to work, Mercedes. I already tried that."

"So? It was you."

"Well—Finn, too."

"…"

"I see you've grasped the gravity of the situation."

Mercedes groaned. "Oh, NOW you gonna get it, white boy."

An enormous crunch, and the door burst wide open. Finn and Kurt winced from the sudden glaring light, and Mercedes wiped the dust off her hands in pride. "And that's how it's done."

"Wow, Mercedes. Remind me never to get you mad." The voice coming from behind him didn't sound too angry, so Kurt reluctantly stepped out into the sun so Finn could climb out behind him. Mercedes looked between the both of them for several seconds, before slapping a hand over her mouth and gasping.

"Oh. Mah God." Her eyes bulged out in first Kurt's direction, and then Finn's. Much to Kurt's relief, Finn didn't look too uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He was embarrassed, to be sure, at least judging from the pink that tinged his entire face and neck; but there was definitely a suggestion of laughter hidden behind those widened eyes.

Kurt was feeling bold. Jenkins was nowhere in sight, and he was slowly realizing that his greatest dream had just come true. His Finn had kissed him, more than once—and passionately. And his Finn was smiling. At him.

Kurt smiled too, then looked at Mercedes, who was now pointing at them, completely speechless. Her mouth gaped at them, jaw working up and down. Finn rubbed the back of his neck, then subtly used the gesture as an excuse to nudge Kurt's shoulder on the way back down. His voice was quiet, but full of guilty amusement. It warmed something deep inside Kurt's chest, and made his heart beat faster.

"Did you want to explain—or should I?"

A/N: Yes, it's supposed to end like that. I hope you enjoyed it! I can't wait for Glee to start up again, can you? I guess that for now this little story can serve as a bit of a teaser for all you fans who, like me, are eager for the back nine of the season one to finally air.

I am not planning any kind of sequel at this time. I had a very specific scene in my head when I sat down to write, and now I've written it. Sadly, this is where it ended in my head, so this is where it's going to have to end here. If you like my stories, feel free to read some of my others! I would gladly appreciate your input.