Unpretty

glee_angst_meme: It's prom night, everybody's getting ready, putting on their makeup, straightening their ties. All except Kurt. He had everything about the night planned for weeks, so it comes as a surprise for everyone that he wasn't going.

They asked if it was because he was going with a boy. If it was because he was terrified of some Carrie-esque event happening at the dance. Because they will protect him. They will fix what needs to be fixed.

None of that was the problem, though. How can Kurt tell them that he was bailing out, not of the fear of being undesirable in the eyes of the public, but of being undesirable in the eyes of the man he loves? Because even if Blaine was his boyfriend now, he couldn't forget how Blaine was the one who wasn't attracted to him first. That during this night, when everyone is at their most beautiful, when it's almost expected for something intimate to go down later in the night for couples, he couldn't help but remember how Blaine once basically told he was not sexy. That there was something innately undesirable in him, no matter how hard he tried to be.

Kurt Hummel loved being in charge as much as he loved playing the bitch. Several occasions in the weeks leading up to prom confirmed that he was capable of pairing his two loves and rendering every boy in New Directions in a state of misery, stress, and the constant doubt that if they didn't do what Kurt said, their girlfriends would hold out forever.

"Puckerman, you are not taking your date to an all-you-can-eat buffet-I don't care if it's a real Chinese place-the point is you want to be irresistible to Lauren because she's impressed with the lengths you'll go to please her, not because you reek of roasted pork. So not kosher."

Puck had proceeded to pick Kurt up bodily and toss him into a recycle bin. Undeterred, Kurt hounded Puck about making dinner reservations, exterminating the bacterial kingdom growing in Puck's truck, dry cleaning the tux from the Hummel-Hudson wedding and selecting a tie and a handkerchief in his blazer that would match Lauren's dress-and don't you dare screw up her corsage.

"What the hell do you know about pleasing the ladies?" Puck demanded to know after a particularly annoying bout of lobbying on Kurt's end.

"I imagine that the process begins with a well-placed condom," Kurt retorted from the inside of his locker. Kurt winced when Puck's fist connected very solidly with the locker door, but after leaving a large dent in the metal door, the delinquent did end up making reservations under "Noah" and letting Kurt pick out the corsage.

The only other person who had it worse was Finn. Prior to the existence of the prom committee, Kurt bitched at Finn for months to choose who he loved more so that Kurt could get down to the real business of outfitting Finn to match his date.

"Personally, you'd look better with Quinn," Kurt stated callously. "She's more of a winter and the cooler colors suit your complexion. Very little work necessary with Quinn. If you want to be with Rachel, you need to get with her now and give me time to talk her out of wearing a Victorian hoop skirt or something completely ill-suited for this century. You can't fuck her if she wears bloomers, Finn Hudson."

When Finn did win back Rachel in a clumsy, yet swoon-worthy courtship, Kurt was not impressed. His efforts only doubled to include confiscating the dress Rachel had intended, selecting a high-class, money-draining establishment that would accommodate Rachel's fussy diet and Finn's ability to eat everything (and a lot of it) and ordering a limousine since Finn "couldn't pilot a tricycle" and all sorts of stuff that he was already on Puck's case about.

Anthony Rashad, who had the extremely high honor of courting the lovely Mercedes Jones, had his Facebook inbox spammed with helpful checklists and time lines to follow. And the occasional poignant reminder that Kurt knew the make, model, and license plate numbers of Anthony's car.

Sam got off lightly, with a stern memo to schedule a hair appointment to touch up his roots. Oh, and to lose the self-esteem issues or to lose Quinn.

The guys shuddered to think about how Kurt was treating his shiny, new boyfriend. Those fever-bright eyes and flushed cheeks and perpetual drive to perfection couldn't be good signs. However, Blaine did not seem at all harassed and his spirit appeared to be relatively uncrushed. Which kind of pissed off the guys when they realized that the son-of-a-bitch knew how to be pleasant when doling out advice.

On the morning of the momentous event, Kurt was already in his suit-an opalescent periwinkle that would have been too gay for anyone else-and made his rounds to the girls' houses with a camera and his emergency beauty kit in tow, with a grim determination against stress pimples and dark circles. When the sun was at its zenith, Kurt re-applied his make-up and got to work with each of the men. A few emergency errands were performed when reservations or rides or beauty appointments were incorrectly booked in the "prom rush."

As it stood, New Directions breathed a sigh of relief when prom night came.

Since the Cheerios pretty much were the prom committee, the show choir met briefly at the school after their romantic dinners to host a most splendid photo shoot with photographers that Rachel hired and generously loaned to the rest of the couples for the "duets" theme. Santana surprised everyone by taking her "duets" picture with Kurt rather than the beef cake she'd selected for her date. Then it was a free-for-all smorgasbord of flirting with the camera, pairing Quinn/Rachel, Puck/Tina, Sam/Kurt, and so on.

Of course they broke out into love songs, here and there.

Finn was surprisingly having a good time in the chorus room as the girls took yet another round of group photos. Rachel sat next to him and his fingers stroked her bare shoulders in quiet appreciation. There was a second where both of their hearts jolted from how perfect the moment was and then they kissed softly, not caring who saw.

"Remind me to thank your stepbrother. He's been playing the fairy godbrother role to a tee," Rachel murmured, her eyes just limpid and close and why the hell had he hooked up with Quinn again? Oh well.

"Amen to the fairy part," Puck shot out as he walked by them to hug-tackle his date.

Actually, come to think of it, everyone was in the chorus room except for Kurt and Blaine. No one had noticed.

"I'll be right back," Finn said to Rachel, squeezing her hand because he could. "Don't dance with anyone else."

Finn looked left and right nervously before ducking into the girl's bathroom closest to the juniors' lockers. He was not surprised to find Kurt staring at himself in a mirror. Finn was, however, confused by the fact that Kurt had changed into jeans and a T-shirt.

"Why are you wearing that? Aren't you coming?" Finn asked, cocking his head like an inquisitive golden retriever.

Kurt sighed and awkwardly clutched a shopping bag that must have held his glamorous tux. "I got what I came for." He tried on a smile. "Have a magical night with your beautiful date."

"Kurt," Finn said sharply, because he didn't like it when Kurt pulled the selfless card. "Isn't Blaine taking you to the prom?"

When Kurt said "no", Finn was ready to call Rachel and inform her that he was going to be a couple hours late after driving to Westerville and kicking some prep-school ass. Since he was already dressed like James Bond and feeling like Hans Solo.

"I didn't ask him to prom," Kurt explained quickly. "I just wanted to cam whore with my friends; it's pretty much as though I attended when I look through the scrapbook. I'm doing something special with Blaine tomorrow, I promise."

"Dude, are you afraid something bad will go down? Like they'll beat you guys up or throw blood on you like that freaky prom chick movie? 'Cuz Quinn and Santana made sure that no one with buckets were allowed in."

Kurt smiled wider. "That's sweet of you, but I wasn't thinking of that Finn Hudson. I don't dress to the nines all the time. I can be fabulous all I want tomorrow."

Now Finn knew that something was up, but the best thing to do was not to let on that he was going to do something to earn the Bitchface. Such as telling Rachel.

"Okay. Now I have to pee," Finn said, ducking out of the bathroom before Kurt could read his mind because Kurt did that sometimes what with being three steps ahead of everyone else.

Kurt's smile was real for a second as he fondly watched his stepbrother shuffle out of the ladies' room. His bigger younger brother was growing on him. He unconsciously hummed a sad tune as he made his way to his Navigator. He tossed the shopping bag with his tux carelessly on the passenger's seat and sat behind the wheel for ten minutes, watching the steady trickle of his classmates glammed up for the closest thing they'd have to the red carpet. He told himself that he would one day be strutting down the real thing, and swallowed the lump in his throat, and drove himself home to wash off the make-up and curl up with Patti LuPone's book.

After twenty minutes, he was still on the same page. Kurt put down the book and went to his full-length mirror, studying his reflection as though divining universal mysteries. Kurt turned side-to-side a couple times, inspecting the close fit of his jeans and the way his shirt rode up to show his flat stomach when he stretched his toned arms. His reflection didn't blink as he lifted his shirt over his head and let it drop. While he had lost a lot of weight earlier in the year, he had recovered some of it when Blaine came into his life.

Kurt knew that, objectively speaking, his body looked firm and healthy. A lot of men and a few oblivious girls would cheerfully fuck him into the mattress.

Hell, one of those men was his bully-who wanted Kurt despite hating Kurt for everything that he is.

Kurt placed his hands behind his head and bit his lip, winking at himself. Yeah, who wouldn't want this?

His boyfriend's name came to mind, and Kurt pivoted on his heel and jumped onto his bed, smothering his face in a pillow despite knowing that the oils from his hair would likely clog his pores. He was too upset, coming to terms with the fact that the love of his life did not desire him at a physical level. Kurt had spent months searching Blaine's calm demeanor for passion or hunger or, fuck, he'd take jealousy even, as some shred of want.

Because he wanted Blaine so badly. He wanted to throw himself on to the beautiful man, wanted to spread himself, wanted to bare it all, all for Blaine.

And when he pictured himself getting on his knees and begging for Blaine's touch, Kurt also pictured Blaine's puzzled expression as to what Kurt thought he was doing, trying to be "sexy."

His dad would certainly get to sleep easier on Kurt and Blaine's date nights, knowing that Kurt had somehow, in total defiance of probability, fallen haplessly in love and in lust with a boy of compatible sexual orientation who was not physically attracted to him. A gay boy who had claimed his hand and ran with him down the hallways and huskily promised to Kurt "I'll get your heart racing in my skin tight jeans" just minutes into meeting each other! Kurt didn't stand a chance.

No wonder he didn't want to believe in God. If a God existed, then God's plan for him was obviously sexual torture. For life. Kurt was always going to want men who did not want him as badly. And Kurt understood that men were only as faithful as their options.

This was going to play out worse than the Finn Fiasco, Kurt just knew it. He'd planned for it, after all. He'd planned for all of his friends to have their perfect, wonderful, glorious "teenage dreams" to make up for the one that would never come true for him. So what if it stung that he could pull off love for ten other people and he couldn't fix himself up? With his track record, he could probably get a foot in the door planning other people's weddings, to kick off other people's happy marriages.

So what if he was soaking his acne-prone skin with hair grease and soaking his pillow with tears? It was always better to cry alone than to cry in front of him.

"The worse thing I could do, is to cry in front of you," Kurt hummed, and he couldn't get the picture of Blaine's perfect and unimpressed face out of his head.

Kurt hiccuped a couple times and got to his feet when he heard a loud banging. It sounded like it was coming from the door. Shit, how long had he fallen asleep after crying his heart out?

"Damn it, Finn. If you and Rachel are having a private after-party in my bedroom, you've got another thing-" Kurt threw open the front door in a fury.

"Oh, uh, hi there," Kurt said oh so eloquently, because there stood Blaine. Blaine was looking ridiculously edible with the top two buttons of his shirt undone and showing just a bit of chest hair. He had his arms crossed, and it drew attention to his biceps.

Then Kurt remembered that Blaine only had his sexy arms crossed when he wasn't smiling.

"Would you mind explaining to me why my boyfriend didn't want to take me to his prom?" Blaine asked, drawing out each word to kill any and all misunderstandings. His eyes flicked up and down as though he was measuring up Kurt, and finding much lacking.

Kurt wondered how he could phrase his answer without 1) crying, 2) getting dumped, and 3) humping Blaine's leg because Blaine's voice deepened very pleasingly when he was displeased.

"I didn't want to go to prom, period," Kurt said. He stepped aside and closed the door after Blaine, who kept walking in the direction of the Hummel-Hudson living room. Kurt adjusted his hair, and debated popping into the basement to put a frigging shirt on. If he wanted to make it through this conversation, Blaine seeing his pasty thin chest wasn't going to work in his favor.

Which was so unfair since less than ten percent of Blaine's chest was visible and Kurt already wanted his tongue all over it.

Blaine was sitting on one end of the couch when Kurt mustered the courage to follow him. Kurt was relieved to see a pillow on the other end of the couch; he instinctively sat down, smoothly flipping the pillow over his exposed body.

Blaine turned his head to glare at Kurt and his eyebrows drew in closer, which was also a very, very bad sign.

"Did you consider, for a moment, for a second, that I wanted to go to prom with you?" Blaine asked. "We don't have too many of them at our school, as you well know."

"Prom's an overrated experience," said Kurt, waving his hand airily. "I made plans for us to go out the next day while my peers nursed their hang overs."

"That's very true and you did," Blaine said, nodding. "Except that I know you. You're in show choir. Everything about you is a big production in the works. Coming from that boy who badgered me and the Pips to mix things up, I'm going to call your bluff."

"I'm sorry, Blaine. It's not that I didn't want to take you; I just didn't want to go," Kurt said stiffly, hugging the pillow to his churning stomach. "I didn't mean to make you angry; I won't do it again. We can go next year."

"Are you going to wear your blue suit next year?" Blaine asked, his nostrils flaring. He took out his scratched phone and up came an image of Kurt laughing as Sam pretended to mess up his coif.

"And who is this? And why is he all over you? Why are you lying to me, Kurt?"

"Finn," Kurt hissed. "Did Finn send that to you? I should have-"

Blaine stood up and threw his phone at the wall, hard enough that the backing came off and the battery tumbled out. Another scratch eerily similar to the first one marred the phone's dead screen.

"Why are you lying to me, Kurt?" Blaine ran his hand through his tousled hair in exasperation and dark waves spilled over his molten eyes.

"Because..." Kurt mumbled, staring at the pieces of Blaine's phone.

"Just tell me," Blaine demanded. "Or don't tell me and I'll leave."

Panic flashed across Kurt's face, and then he slumped as though the life went out of him. "Because I'm in love with you and you don't feel the same."

Blaine's jaw dropped.

Kurt was squeezing the pillow, hard, as his eyes watered. "You can leave now. I'll... I'll give back the stuff you gave me, except for the tickets to the Newsies and all the lattes, for obvious reasons."

Blaine snapped out of his amazement over Kurt's confession. Not a band of wild horses would have dragged him away from Kurt. He sat on the couch and took Kurt's limp hands into his own. The pillow rolled to the floor as Blaine bent his head and kissed each one of Kurt's knuckles, and stars shined in his enamored gaze. "Why are you breaking up with me if you love me?"

Kurt raised his beautiful, but startled eyes. "I'm not breaking up with you. You said you'd leave... what else could you mean?"

He smiled and he put Kurt's hand against his hot cheek. "You wonderful, silly boy. I can't leave you because I love you, too."

"But. But how?"

Now, he could have answered that question but then he'd probably waste the day singing Kurt's praise, when all he wanted to do at this very second was put his hands all over his boyfriend and kiss him until words meant nothing. And that's exactly what Blaine proceeded to do, pressing his lips to Kurt's petal-soft ones, running his tongue along the parted skin as Kurt's mouth bloomed swollen and red, and tasting the salt of Kurt's tears.

It turned Blaine's stomach to think that he might have inadvertently made Kurt cry over him, and then he was desperate to fix how badly, how royally he'd screwed it up. His hand curled gently around the nape of Kurt's neck, cushioning Kurt's head as he put more of his body and his weight on Kurt until he was on top. His fingers could not get enough of Kurt, now that they could do what they wanted, what Blaine had wanted to do the second Kurt had opened the door with fire in his eyes and shadows on his naked chest.

He patted and stroked and kissed all that glorious skin, which was much more gorgeous than any scarf or paint that decorated it.

"Gosh, you're pretty," Blaine moaned, and he was shaking from how much he meant it, how much he was holding back.

Then a little bit of his own skin rubbed against Kurt's, and his fingers only stopped stroking the miraculous body under him to rip his shirt open. His heart was beating too hotly, too quickly that he couldn't stand it.

They both gasped for breath when they were connected everywhere that mattered, and Blaine moved down ever so slowly, and he never wanted that hot slide to end or his lips to be parted from what was rightfully his.

Beautiful. Awesome. Magic.

It was even better when Kurt touched him back. The pull of Kurt's fingers in his hair, and Kurt's teeth on his shoulder, and then his nails down Blaine's back, oh yes.

He licked a nipple and knew his life was over when Kurt was instantly hard under him. If Kurt ever stopped loving him, Blaine would die. Because he needed this, it wasn't a question of wanting anymore.

"So sexy," Blaine panted, and Kurt tensed up and took away his touch.

Blaine immediately backed off, even though it nearly ended him. "Are you okay? Did I go too fast?"

"No, you're fine." Kurt reached out and pulled him down until they were flush against each other. "I was surprised."

And he was back in business. Blaine nuzzled Kurt's throat and ducked his head for a couple stolen kisses.

"Surprised by how hot you are?" He took a deep breath and kissed Kurt as hard as he dared, and rolled his hips so that there was no question about how much he desired the boy he was in love with.

"Yeah, actually." There was a catch in Kurt's voice that had nothing to do with making-out.

Blaine sat up and pulled Kurt on to his lap, wiggling a bit to make room for the undeniable truth that Kurt turned him on just by breathing. "Talk to me. Tell me why you're sad." He looped both arms securely around Kurt's waist, and pulled the delicate boy closer until there was no space between them.

He wanted so badly for there to be nothing between them.

"I'm not sad, Blaine. Not anymore."

Blaine rested his forehead against Kurt's cheek. He couldn't resist kissing him again. "But you were, and I don't know why, and it's driving me crazy."

"Bet I could make you crazier," Kurt teased, and he pouted and no, Blaine, it's a trap. A sweet, delicious gosh your lips are- a trap!.

He gazed beseechingly at Kurt for a very long minute until Kurt sighed. "I just can't keep up with you. I thought we were going to be just friends." Only in Blaine's personal (and ironic) Hell.

"Blaine, you didn't like me at first," Kurt said. "And I made you mad at me, and then you tell me that you love me, and I can't figure out what changed. Because I didn't. I'm still me."

Then Kurt scrunched up his face to be cute and adorable.

Those weren't weird faces. Those were my sexy faces.

Oh. God.

He'd wanted nothing between them, and had somehow overlooked the fact that Kurt's walls were up for a reason.

"Sweetheart, baby, I am sorry for being a complete and utter fool. Hear this, and hear it now: You are the sexiest creature alive. I never apologized when I came to my senses and realized how precious you are, how much I need you, how much I feel you..."

Kurt clapped his hand to his face and he shook his head, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

Blaine kissed the back of Kurt's hand, where it covered his mouth. "Will you go to the prom with me, beautiful? You sexy, sexy boy. And then can we have a sexy after-party in your sexy bed-"

"Oh my Gaga, stop! I beg you! You're oversexing me." Kurt's sides shook, but he was trying desperately to keep in the giggles.

"Never," Blaine promised, and he sealed it with a kiss because Kurt was unreal when you were the one to make him happy.

A/N: Don't own Glee. I'm not a Klainer, but I love Kurt.

Don't own Grease.