Title: Too Much To Ask
Inspiration: The kiss that missed in 3.03
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.

Blaine watches the gentle pulse of skin over muscle, watching the way Kurt flicks his wrist delicately to emphasize his point. Remembering two nights ago, being intimately aware of Kurt's wrist flicks. He flushes faintly at the thought and brings his eyes back to Kurt's face, attempting to actually tune in to what his boyfriend is saying.

It's a lost cause because Kurt's face is Kurt's lips, ears, and eyes. It's the fringe bobbing gently over his forehead where Blaine desperately wants to reach out with a single fingertip. It's the soft press of Kurt's lips coming together. It's the memory of those lips parting, meeting his, just brushing before gaining and pressing in. Those fingers catching at Blaine's waist, curling into the nape of his neck. It's Kurt shifting balance on a warm exhale to meet Blaine's front, flush together. It's…

It's fantasy and memory fading to the gunmetal reality of McKinley hierarchy and locker doors. Blaine fights back the sigh pushing at his chest because something is aching deep inside. His eyes flicker down a moment before he hangs a show-smile back on his face with some labor and meets Kurt's eyes again.

His boyfriend has stopped talking though and is just watching him with a soft-focus fondness. "You haven't heard a word I said, have you?" There's exasperation there but colored with awe and love. Blaine's chest give a pleasurable flare but it's feeble and gets lost in the plastic-encased fluorescence, dies in spurting embers on the scuffed and sticky linoleum.

"Sorry," he apologizes in a breath. His head dips, temple resting on the cold cracked tile.

Kurt's lips — those lips — press together and he shakes his head. "Don't be. What's wrong?"

Blaine doesn't want to say, doesn't want to bring his beautiful boyfriend down. But his plastic smile has fallen to spun-sugar, drifting to be swept into corners with cobwebs and gossip-notes folded into paper footballs. And knowing Kurt it's not something he's going to give up on. "I just…really want to kiss you."

Which wouldn't be cause for sighs and sad-eyes, but Kurt understands what he's saying underneath that. What he's saying and what he's not saying and why he's not saying it and why he can't say it and why it has to be said. Kurt clears all words aborted from the base of his throat and tries a smile. Reaches out and brushes fingertips along the top of Blaine's cheek, pads testing the tender skin there. Blaine's breath leaves him in a short exhale and his eyes close.

It's nice; it's enough. But not, and not fair.

"Soon," Kurt promises with only the smallest dose of melancholy.

And then the bell is ringing and they have to separate for class, fingers lingering in shared air, wanting to curl around each other. Goodbyes catch air and they both turn after a few backward steps. Blaine sighs so that his shoulders drop on his way to class. His brow furrows but now he's thinking. He's thinking because closed doors are fine but hard to come by and a car is only so spacious. And there must be a place, some place, somewhere they can be together, he and Kurt.

Some place. Soon.