"This is already a bad idea, I can tell," Blaine complained as he checked his clothes in the mirror. Unsatisfied with these, he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it onto the growing pile behind him on the bed. Kurt walked in from the bathroom, rubbing moisturizer on his face.

"Wear the green one," Kurt said, pointing. Blaine picked up the shirt and slipped it on. "Simple, yet nice."

Blaine scowled at his reflection. "I look like I'm going to work."

"This from the man with the largest bowtie collection in the western world." Kurt disappeared into the bathroom again, and Blaine sighed. The shirt was fine, green fitted button up, but it wasn't exactly what he wanted to wear.

"I feel like I'm overdressed," Blaine said, raising his voice. "This is just some party in Lima; it's not New York."

Kurt walked out of the bathroom, ready and stylish as usual. Blaine rolled his eyes and turned back towards the mirror. "Just because the people around here have no fashion sense is no excuse to lose yours. What would you feel more comfortable in, a tattered t-shirt and sweat pants?"

"Now that you mention it…" Kurt hit Blaine on the shoulder, and Blaine leaned forward to kiss him. "It's not the clothes; it's just me. The shirt is fine, really. You always pick out the best outfits."

"I know." Kurt smiled and disappeared out of the bedroom. Blaine took one last, forlorn look in the mirror and followed him.

The drive to Puck's house wasn't very long, and soon they were parking on the street among a large line of cars. "Is everyone invited?" Kurt asked as they walked towards the door. Puck's house was small in an older neighborhood. The yard was better well-kept than Blaine expected. "I don't remember Glee club being this large."

"Maybe Puck just invited everyone," Blaine suggested as they knocked on the door. Music was pounding from inside mingled with the sound of voices. The door flung open and they were immediately engulfed by an ecstatic Mercedes.

"Ohmigod," she said, hugging Blaine before nearly crushing Kurt. "I can't believe you're here! It's been too long!" She grabbed Kurt's hand and dragged him into the house, Kurt mouthing 'I'm sorry' over his shoulder. Blaine smiled and followed.

Mercedes babbled excitedly to Kurt, but her voice was drowned out by the din. Music blared from speakers set up in the living room, and people were already dancing around badly. He recognized everyone, even the underclassmen who had joined his senior year. Santana was doing shots with someone whose name he couldn't remember in the corner, Tina and Mike were dancing in the midst of other couples, and another group of younger glee members were playing poker with Artie at the dining room table. Blaine followed Kurt and Mercedes into the kitchen, which was overcrowded. Rachel, Brittany, and Quinn were in a circle talking. The back door was open, and Puck, Finn, and Sam were standing around a keg and filling solo cups.

"You made it!" Rachel exclaimed when she saw them, running over to give Blaine a hug and a kiss on his cheek. "How was the drive down?"

"Fine," Blaine said, nodding and waving at Brittany and Quinn. "We got in this morning. When did you and Finn arrive?"

"Couple of days ago. We've been spending time with my dads and Burt and Carol." Rachel glanced back at Kurt, then leaned closer to Blaine. "I didn't realize Burt didn't know that Kurt was staying at your parent's place with you."

"Did you or Finn tell him?"

"I let it slip. One night I stayed over late and Carol said I could stay in Kurt's room since he wouldn't be staying there for another couple of days, and I said I couldn't stay because I was going shopping the next morning with my dads, and besides Kurt doesn't like people to sleep in his bed anyway," Rachel said, talking so fast that Blaine was having to really concentrate to keep up. Years of hanging out with Rachel still didn't make her any less difficult to follow sometimes. "And then she said we could wash the sheets before he arrived if I needed the room, and I told her it probably wouldn't matter anyway because he was staying with you."

Blaine ran a hand across his face. "Kurt is not going to be happy. He was going to break it to Burt…I think. He may have chickened out at the last minute."

"Then I did you a favor," she said, rocking back and forth on her heels. "You've lived together for four years. You'd think it wouldn't bother him."

"It's something about being home," Blaine explained. "The last few times we both came home, like at Christmas, we didn't stay together. But my parents are away on vacation, so we thought a house to ourselves was the perfect solution."

"Hey Blaine," Finn said, bringing them both cups of beer. "Perfectly tapped, no foam."

"Impressive," Blaine said, lifting the cup and taking a sip.

"Kurt, want a beer?" Finn asked as he returned to the keg.

"No thanks," he said, making a face.

"There's margaritas in the machine behind you," Sam said, pointing towards the counter.

"That is a lovely offer." Kurt managed to get away from Mercedes long enough to fill a cup with a frozen margarita. Afterwards, he joined Blaine and Rachel.

"She told your dad you're staying with me," Blaine said.

Kurt's eyes got really large as shot her a fake smile. "How wonderful, Rachel. Thank you."

"I am so sorry, Kurt. It just came out. One night I stayed over late — "

"Long story short," Blaine interrupted, "he knows that you're staying with me. Now you can't chicken out."

"I wasn't going to chicken out," Kurt said, sticking out his chin defiantly. Blaine shot him a dubious look, but said nothing.

"Oh look," Puck said, walking up with Finn and Sam in tow, "the queens of the New Directions."

"And we're joined by the king of no direction," Kurt replied.

"Ow, burn!" Sam said, laughing as Finn tried to high-five Kurt.

"Nice to see you too, Kurt," Puck said, grinning and shaking his and Blaine's hand. "How's it going, guys?"

"Pretty good," Blaine said. "Yourself?"

"Awesome."

"What are you doing now?" Sam asked them. "You live in New York still, right? Like Rachel and Finn?"

"Yeah," Kurt said. "We live in the same building as them."

"That must be sweet!" Sam said.

"I don't know, having to put up with Berry that much…" Puck said, laughing when she slapped his arm.

"I just finished an off-Broadway production of The Glass Menagerie," Kurt explained. "It only ran for two weeks, but it did run for two weeks, which is more than I can say for the play I was in before that one."

"What about you, Blaine? You just graduated, right?"

"Yes, in May," Blaine answered.

"What are you going to do now? Are you going to school or do you have a part lined up or something? You've probably got something awesome lined up," Sam asked, genuinely interested. Blaine hesitated, not sure how to answer, but thankfully, Kurt saved him.

"Blaine's looking at different options. The key is picking the right part," Kurt said.

"Isn't it always?" Rachel said, and then luckily, the conversation turned onto what everyone else was doing. Kurt reached out and grabbed Blaine's hand, squeezing it gently.

Later that night, after a long, exhausting day of driving and reunion, Blaine dropped onto the bed exhausted. He didn't even bother to shower; he barely made it out of his jeans and shirt. He tried to fall asleep while Kurt was in the shower, but he couldn't. When Kurt got into bed, Blaine was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"You okay?" Kurt asked, rolling onto his side and watching him intently.

"Yeah," Blaine answered.

"Not very convincing."

"Thanks for saving me today."

"That's what I'm here for."

Blaine sighed. "I'm not sure I'm up for all of this. Beer and swimming pools and bar-b-ques and repeatedly having to avoid the question of 'what are you doing'."

"This is exactly what you need, Blaine. You've spent the last month alternating between moping around the apartment and going to every audition like a crazy man. You will find something — "

"I haven't yet," Blaine interrupted.

"You will find something," Kurt continued, "but a bit of time back home is what you really need."

"I don't know why I agreed to this crazy plan," Blaine said, rolling to face Kurt. "I need to be trying to find a job, not laying around my parent's house like some loser."

"You're not a loser," Kurt said. Blaine didn't answer. "Why are you so hard on yourself all the time?"

"I'm not hard enough on myself. If I was more dedicated — "

"No one is more dedicated than you. Except maybe Rachel."

"Maybe I'd have a part in something, anything."

"Something will come along soon. You're just having a rough patch, that's all." Kurt reached out and grabbed Blaine's shoulder, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb.

"You found something as soon as you graduated," Blaine said, "and you know that I don't begrudge you anything because I love you and you're super talented and deserve everything you've had since you graduated and I'm like the proudest boyfriend in New York, but — "

Kurt shook his head with a quiet 'ssh'. "You don't have to explain yourself. I know all that, and I understand."

"You're too good to me," Blaine said.

"I think a bit of time away from everything — auditions, New York, all of it — will help you. Give you a creative reboot. A bit of sun and relaxation is just what the doctored ordered. Plus, there's Mike and Tina's wedding to look forward to, and I don't know about you, but I'm dying to see a traditional Chinese-Jewish wedding. The dresses alone!"

Blaine laughed and kissed Kurt. "Thank you," he whispered against his mouth.

---

The next morning, the bed was empty when Blaine awoke. He looked over at the clock and saw that it was after eleven. He groaned, stretched, and scratched his stomach. Although he knew he had to get out of bed, he wanted to just roll over and fall back asleep. But instead, he got out of bed, tugged on his pajama pants, and rubbed his eyes as he padded sleepily out of the room.

Kurt was already dressed — how did he do that without waking him up? — and flipping through a magazine, the TV on quietly in the background.

"Sleeping beauty awakes," Kurt said, smiling as he tossed the magazine aside.

"Yeah, sorry." Blaine walked over to the couch and dropped beside Kurt, kissing him before laying his head on Kurt's shoulder and closing his eyes. "I think I could go back to sleep right now."

"You can't go to sleep! We've got places to be."

"Where are we going today?" Blaine said, refusing to open his eyes. He just snuggled closer into Kurt. Kurt draped an arm around him and started playing with the drawstring of his pants.

"Bridesmaid dress shopping!" Kurt exclaimed. Blaine vehemently shook his head.

"You are, but I'm not," he said.

"Why?"

"Dress shopping sounds like hell. You go and have fun."

"Are you sure? I've been looking in bridal magazines all morning trying to see what is in this season for Jewish-Chinese weddings. Surprisingly, there isn't a huge market for that."

"Shocker," Blaine said.

"I think Tina is going to have more luck choosing one or the other, and my choice is Chinese. Not that I have anything against Jewish weddings, but I think a traditional Chinese décor would be much more colorful."

"Mmhmm."

"Are you even listening?"

"Sort of." Kurt pushed Blaine away and stood up. "You're so mean to me."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You were wrinkling my jacket."

"Tragedy!" Blaine exclaimed mockingly. Kurt picked up a pillow and threw it at his head. Blaine reached up and grabbed Kurt's hand, pulling him down on top of him. Kurt struggled to get up, but Blaine held fast. He leaned up and kissed Kurt, who tried to resist, but the longer Blaine prodded his lips with his tongue, the more Kurt relaxed and relented.

"I need to get to Tina's," Kurt said against his mouth.

"Skip it. Let's spend all day naked and in bed."

"Blaine."

"Okay, naked and on the couch."

"I can't," Kurt said, pushing himself up and away from Blaine's insistent mouth.

"The floor then?"

"I'm serious!"

"I thought this was supposed to be my relaxing vacation. Nothing would relax me more than your mouth." Blaine waggled his eyebrows and Kurt rolled his eyes again.

"Raincheck?"

"Promise?"

Kurt kissed Blaine again before standing up. "Don't sit on the couch all day. Go do something. Please?"

Blaine ran a hand through his messy curls. "Fine." Kurt clapped excitedly and ran towards the door, grabbing a stack of bridal magazines on his way.

"Text if you need me!"

After Kurt left, Blaine lazed around the house for a few hours, but then decided that if he didn't do something, he'd never hear the end of it from Kurt. He got dressed in an old t-shirt and jeans, and didn't even bother to put gel into his hair, so it was just curly and free. When he looked in the mirror, he realized he was far from his usual New York chic, but he didn't really care. It felt nice to be comfortable and apathetic.

Since Kurt had the car, Blaine decided to walk into town. It was a nice day anyway. When he got into town, he stopped inside a local sandwich shop for lunch.

"Blaine?"

He turned around and saw Puck behind him. "Hey Puck."

"You look normal."

"Huh?"

"You're not wearing bowties or weird sweaters. And you're wearing socks."

Blaine laughed awkwardly. "Yeah…"

"Sorry, dude. It just took me by surprise. I didn't recognize your hair. Usually it has so much gel in it penguins can use it as a slip and slide."

"Okay…" Blaine laughed and shook his head as he turned to order his sandwich. While he was filling his cup at the drink fountain, Puck appeared beside him again.

"Want to share a table?"

Blaine shrugged. "Why not." He followed Puck over to a table by the window. For the first time, Blaine really looked at Puck. He hadn't seen him but maybe once or twice since graduating. He was more tan, his face a bit more mature, his Mohawk replaced with a normal head of hair, and he was surprisingly just as fit as he used to be. Blaine couldn't deny how much he appreciated the man's chest and biceps.

"Where's Kurt?" Puck asked.

"Shopping for bridesmaid dresses with Tina and the girls."

"You're not with them?"

"God, no. I fucking hate that kind of thing."

"But…" Puck stared at him in confusion.

"But what?"

"You're gay."

Blaine looked at Puck in confusion. "Yes."

"I thought you'd be into that kind of thing since you were gay."

Blaine laughed. "I'm not that kind of gay," he said. "That's more of Kurt's thing."

Puck's face scrunched up. "I don't get it. You're gay, you like showtunes and wear bowties, but you don't like dresses?"

"Not all gays like clothes."

Puck leaned back against his chair, deep in thought. "Hmph. You learn something new every day."

Blaine had to laugh because the whole thing was so ridiculous. "Here's something that'll blow your mind ever more. I love football and can rebuild a car."

After Puck raised his dropped jaw, that launched them into a conversation about Ohio State football. Then they lamented how bad the Cleveland Browns sucked, and then Puck told Blaine all about the old GTO he'd been fixing up.

"I'm still working on it, if you want to come see it."

"Are you kidding?" Blaine exclaimed. "I'd love to!"

"Really?"

"Sure!"

"Tonight?"

"I can't. Dinner with Kurt and Finn's parents."

"Tomorrow?"

"Perfect."

As they walked outside, Blaine noticed the truck parked on the street advertising Puck's pool cleaning business. "You still do this?"

"Yeah. It's gotten kind of lucrative. More people are putting in pools since the summers are getting hotter. Global warming or some shit. I don't care as long as I keep getting business."

"I enjoyed eating lunch with you," Blaine said as Puck opened the door to his truck.

"Dude, where's your car?"

"Kurt has it. I walked here."

"You walked all the way from your house?"

"It was only a couple of miles."

"Get in. I'll take you home."

Blaine put his hands up. "No, really. It's okay. I don't mind walking."

"Don't be a douche. Come on." The day had warmed considerably, and Blaine was sweating just standing in the sun. Puck was so eager to help out that he finally relented and climbed into the cab. He felt remotely better that Puck was taking time out of his work schedule to take him home when he said his next client lived close to him. He may have been lying, but it was nice anyway. As they drove, they sang along to the classic rock on the radio. Puck's voice was still good.

"Does anyone help you out?" Blaine asked when the song was over, looking around at the mess in the truck. Random Coke bottles, fast food wrappers, and what he guessed were various cleaning tools were strewn everywhere.

"Nope. Just me. Kinda sucks sometimes honestly. Makes for long days, but sometimes the ladies make up for it." Blaine smiled. He could imagine the fringe benefits Puck got with the Real Housewives of Lima.

He suddenly had an idea, though he was a bit nervous about asking. What the hell, he thought. No harm in trying. "Hey, want some help?"

"Huh?"

"Kurt and I are spending the summer here, and I know I'll die of boredom if I don't have something to do. I could help you out."

"Do you know anything about cleaning pools?"

"Not a thing."

"Okay, you're hired. I can't pay much."

"More than I make in New York," Blaine said. Especially since I can't find a part, he thought dismally.

"Meet me at my house at 8:30 in the morning," Puck said, pulling up to Blaine's house.

"Sweet. See you in the morning." Blaine climbed out of the truck and waved to Puck as he drove away. He was in much better spirits than he was that morning. Maybe it wasn't his big break, but at least it would give him something to do other than sit around and feel sorry for himself.

---

"Tell me all about New York!" Carole said as they were eating dinner later that night.

Of course, Rachel spoke first, rambling about the small part she had just landed in an off-Broadway show. Blaine had heard her talk about the play so much that he was already sick of it, and she hadn't even started rehearsals. But maybe he was just bitter. He couldn't be sure.

"What about you, honey? How's your job going? Still liking being behind the scenes?" she asked Finn.

"I love it. I just started working on this show with this really awesome sound technician. Right now I'm just his assistant, but he keeps telling me that if I stay with him, I can get any sound job in New York. And maybe even Hollywood."

"Sweetheart," Rachel patronized, "we're not moving to Hollywood."

"You could work in movies or TV," Carole suggested.

"TV? I'd rather die!"

"What about you, Blaine?" Burt asked. "At graduation, you said you were still looking for something. Found anything since then?"

Blaine shifted uncomfortably. This was his family, and they didn't care if he sang or sold hotdogs on Broadway. He didn't have to impress them. But it still upset him to talk about it to anyone.

"No. Nothing," he admitted. He felt his face grow red. "Kurt thinks spending the summer here will help reboot my creativity."

"I think that's a good idea," Carole agreed, nodding.

"I don't know about rebooting creativity," Burt said, "but it'd be nice to have you two around more."

"Blaine just needs to get some air, remove himself from New York for just a bit. Otherwise, I may kill him. He's like living with a crazy person sometimes," Kurt said, nudging Blaine with his shoulder affectionately.

"Try living with Rachel," Finn said. Her exasperated "hmpf!" was drowned out by laughter.

"Well, you are more than welcome to come help me down in the shop," Burt offered. "I could use the help."

"Thanks, Burt," Blaine said, "I would love to, but I've kind of made other plans."

Kurt stopped his fork in midair and turned. "You made plans?"

"Yeah. Today. I'm going to be helping Puck with his pool cleaning business."

"You're working with Puck?" Finn asked incredulously. "I didn't even know he knew your name."

"You decided to work with Puck and you didn't tell me?" Kurt asked, laying his fork down and angling his whole body towards Blaine. "When did this even happen?"

"I went into town like you told me to this afternoon and we met up and had lunch. He took me home and I asked him if I could work with him. He sounded like he needed the help."

"Do you even know how to clean a pool, Blaine?" Burt asked.

"I don't have a clue."

"I can't believe you're going to be working with Puck," Rachel said. "I mean, Puck is fine and whatever, but to work with him every day? Cleaning pools? It sounds completely horrible. The sun would burn my skin and then I'd get wrinkles and become unable to play both the mature roles and the younger, edgy roles that this face is destined to play. And the chemicals might scorch my vocals chords. Blaine, what if the chemicals scorch your vocal chords?"

"I don't think that can actually happen, Rachel," Finn said.

"Pool chemicals can burn out your eyeballs, or eat away your skin, but it can't scorch your vocal chords," Burt said.

"Guys, I'm not going to be rolling around in pool chemicals," Blaine said, raising his voice over the others. "Puck'll probably have my netting out bugs or something."

"That's worse than chemicals," Rachel said.

"I think it's great," Kurt said. Blaine looked at him, realizing it was the first thing he'd said. "Something completely different. Get you a bit of sun — but not too much, I'll have to go buy sunscreen, if you got skin cancer I'd never forgive myself! — and make some money. I'm happy for you."

Blaine grinned. There was a lot he wanted to say — and do — to Kurt in that moment, but in front of the family wasn't the place. Instead, he squeezed Kurt's knee under the table as the conversation moved on.

Later, when Blaine was taking out the trash for Carole, he overheard Burt and Kurt talking in the other room. He hid near the door and listened.

"Thought you'd want to stay in your own room."

"Dad, it hasn't been my room in years."

"It'll always be your room."

"Blaine's parents are away for over a month. No one is there. We'll be out of the way."

"Kurt, you're never in the way."

"Finn's staying at Rachel's. What's the difference?"

"Her dads are there."

"Dad, Blaine and I have been living together for four years. By ourselves. I figure you know what that means."

"I don't like to think about it."

"Dad, really?"

"I just wish you were here since you're in the same city."

"We're only a few miles away. We'll come eat dinner with you and Carole often. I promise."

"It's just weird, you being back home, but being so grown up. I forget sometimes how old you are."

"It's because I still have my boyish good looks."

Blaine heard them start to move, so he went and helped Carole dry the dishes in the kitchen.

---

Kurt dropped Blaine off in front of Puck's house the next morning. He wasn't sure what one wore to clean pools, so he just threw on an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt he didn't care about. Just in case there were rampant chemicals or something.

"You actually showed up," Puck said when he opened the door.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I didn't know if you were serious or not."

"Am I dressed okay?" Blaine asked pointing to his outfit.

Puck looked at him uncertainly. "Sure? How am I supposed to know if you're dressed okay? You're the one who cares about fashion. All I noticed is that once again you don't have enough gel in your hair to cause it to French fry."

"I meant for pool cleaning," Blaine said, following Puck to his truck. "Believe me, if I needed fashion advice, you'd be the last one I'd ask."

"Dude, got a bit of bite in you. I thought you were just another roll over and take it kinda guy."

"Well, now that you mention it…"

"I totally didn't mean that," Puck said as he started the truck. Blaine just laughed.

Their morning client was a woman who was at least sixty, but unaware that she was over the age of thirty. She started flirting with Puck the moment he arrived, and Puck shamelessly flirted back. Blaine had to admire the ease with which Puck could flirt with basically anything that moved. But when the woman saw Blaine, she forgot about Puck.

"Who is this?" she said, rushing up to Blaine.

"Blaine, my new assistant," Puck explained. The woman ran her hands along Blaine's shoulders and chest. Blaine stared at her, unsure what to do. He looked at Puck over her shoulder, and Puck just shrugged.

"Blaine, mmm," she said. "Aren't you just the most delectable thing ever?" She ran her hands down his torso and Blaine made an unintelligible sound in his throat. "Where have you been all my life?"

"New York," he squeaked.

"You don't say?" She stepped closer, and Blaine could see the makeup caked on her cheek. "New York, so sophisticated and mature."

"Mrs. Phillips? We'd sure love some of those cookies you make if you can spare a few." Puck turned on his best smile, and Mrs. Phillips thankfully moved away from Blaine. He took a breath. Wait until Kurt heard about this.

"I don't have any, but I'll be glad to bake you some." She placed a kiss on Puck's cheek as she walked into the house.

After the door closed, Blaine let out a whistle. "What was that?"

"Welcome to the pool cleaning business," Puck said. "She's a bit older than I like, but some of the women? Cougar foxes. It's a good thing you like men, or you'd be competition."

"Believe me, you have nothing to worry about from me." Blaine shuddered.

"Not all women look like her. Our appointment later this week is hot."

"I can't wait."

Puck made Blaine unload all the equipment from the truck, which wasn't as easy as it sounded. It took three trips to get everything out of the truck. After he finished that, Blaine had to clean out the pool. The task itself wasn't difficult, just awkward. The pole was too long and arched in weird ways, and Blaine was terrified it was going to break in two and he would have to pay hundreds of dollars to replace it. He had trouble angling the net the right way into the water.

"This is harder than it looks," Blaine admitted.

"Amateur." Puck shook his head.

Blaine continued to skim bugs and leaves out of the water while Puck put chemicals in the pool. When he made the entire round, he lay the net on the ground and wiped the sweat off his brow. Although it wasn't even noon, the day was rather warm. Puck dropped a vacuum into the deep end of the pool, and as soon as he turned it on debris started floating to the top.

"More?" Blaine said, looking mournfully at the surface.

"Dude, stop your bitchin'. It's not like you're actually doing anything."

"This stupid thing sucks. I think you gave me a bad net. Is this some kind of hazing ritual?"

"Have you even done a day's work before?"

"I've worked. What kind of question is that?"

"No, not singing and dancing on stage like some chump. Real work. Manual labor, even Starbucks. No wait, Starbucks doesn't count. Handing out coffees is lame."

Blaine stuck the net in the water with one hand and put his other on his hip. "First, I've never been a barista. I do have my standards. Second, do I look like I've done manual labor? Kurt and I hired a team of movers to take our couch up one floor. Finn and I totally could have carried that couch, but I preferred watching those movers much more." Blaine grinned and dragged the net farther along. "I've never done work like this before. You can mock me all you want."

"I could," Puck said, pulling the vacuum hose out of the water and carrying it over to the shallow end, "but you're doing an okay job, so I'll hold off for now. But don't get too comfortable. This mood may not linger."

"I'll remember that."

---

That evening, Blaine and Kurt were on the couch, Blaine leaning back between Kurt's legs against his chest. Blaine was holding Ziplocs full of ice on his hands.

"Poor baby," Kurt said, rubbing his shoulders. "I can't believe that woman."

"Seriously, Kurt, she almost jumped me right there. I was afraid if she started humping me that Puck would've been too amused to intervene."

"I might need to protect you from these women." Kurt placed his fingertips against Blaine's neck and started rubbing. "And Puck worked you to death."

"He didn't," Blaine argued, "I'm just a privileged ponce who hasn't ever done an honest day's labor."

"Honest day's labor? What is this, 1950?"

"You know what I mean," Blaine said, elbowing Kurt in the ribs. "I've just never really worked before."

"You don't call rehearsing from sun up to sun down work? Or learning some of the choreography we've done? I'd like to see Puck do that, then talk to us."

Blaine dropped his head against Kurt's shoulder and kissed his neck. "You're so cute when you take up for me. I like it."

"Let me see your hands." Blaine set the bags on the couch and lifted his palms towards Kurt. "Could be worse. You just need to do something other than skim the pools tomorrow. Your poor hands are not used to doing such things."

"What? Like wrapping my fingers around a pole and holding it as I pull it around? I thought I did that quite often." Blaine giggled as he lifted up and kissed Kurt.

"One day around Puck and you've become raunchy."

"You love it, admit it." Blaine saw Kurt blush slightly. "After all these years, I can still make you blush. That's adorable."

"You don't have to go back tomorrow," Kurt continued, ignoring Blaine. "We don't need the money, and you can go work with my dad in his shop if you really want something to do."

"I want to go back tomorrow. I actually had fun today. Puck, in his own way, is interesting and fun to be around."

"Noah Puckerman? Interesting? Fun in his own way, I get. But interesting?"

"He knows a lot about music and cars and movies. We debated and geeked out about kung fu movies."

"I will never understand your love for those things," Kurt said, shaking his head. "I didn't know that you had such strong opinions about kung fu, though."

"Are you jealous?" Blaine sat up and rotated to face him better. "Because you shouldn't be."

"I'm not." He bit his lip and blushed again. "I don't know. Just, it's Puck and we don't do things like debate or even watch kung fu — "

"You don't like kung fu."

"I know that, but it's weird that you can bond with someone else over something completely separate from me."

"We debate things all the time. Just last week we debated the greatest 80s new wave hits and made our respective top 10 lists. The week before it was a comparison of versions of ABBA songs between the band, the Mamma Mia Broadway cast, and the movie. I still hold that the movie's version of Dancing Queen was fabulous."

"Travesty!"

"You don't really do rock music," Blaine went on, "and I talk about it with Finn sometimes, but he's not into much beyond Guns 'n Roses, The Police or Bruce Springsteen. Puck knows a lot about guitarists. It was fun. Besides, you and Rachel have your little things. You watch marathons of Hoarders all the time, which I don't get. I don't get jealous."

"Yeah, but Rachel doesn't look like Puck."

"Is that it? You're worried because Puck is attractive?"

"See, you've noticed. I'm not saying it's rational. I'm just sharing how I feel."

"You don't have anything to be jealous of, love. I prefer my men softer, paler, thinner, and with a much better sense of style. But it's kind of cute that you are jealous." Kurt tried to look annoyed, but he was too pleased.

"Here, lay back down. I didn't finish your well-deserved massage. My working man." Blaine leaned against Kurt again, closing his eyes and starting to sing along with the song playing in the background. Kurt's hands started massaging his shoulders, the chords in his neck, his biceps and forearms. Then his hands started drifting, sliding along his sides, fingertips fluttering over his stomach, tugging up his t-shirt. Blaine felt his body stir as Kurt's fingers touched his exposed skin, as Kurt's lips brushed against his ear. The song changed and Blaine forgot about singing as Kurt trailed kisses along the side of his face and slid his hand into his pajama pants, then wrapped his fingers around his hardening cock.

Involuntarily, Blaine's hips jerked forward as he inhaled sharply. Kurt's fingers moved deftly, in practiced patterns while his mouth worried a spot on his neck. Blaine reached an arm behind him and threaded his fingers in Kurt's hair, fingers curling as Kurt's hand moved faster and tighter. With a groan, Blaine turned his head sideways, catching Kurt in a sloppy kiss, tongue sliding into his mouth as he bucked up, coming over Kurt's hand.

Later when they were in bed, Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt, pulling him close. "I want you to know you don't have anything to worry about, ever," he whispered.

"I know," Kurt answered. "I was being silly."

"No. Even if I thought Puck was the hottest man on the planet, that wouldn't change that I love you and want to be with you forever."

"I love you, too, Blaine."

Blaine snuggled closer into Kurt and fell asleep.

---

"Feel like coming over and seeing the GTO?" Puck asked as they packed up the pool supplies. They had just finished their last client of the day. Blaine hadn't had to do as much skimming — though that morning when he did, he wore gloves — and instead had just cleaned grout from filters and other crevices he didn't know existed in pools. He realized today how nasty pools could get. Made him really rethink swimming. "You looked like you were about to drop yesterday, so I didn't ask."

"I totally forgot," Blaine said as he secured a chord on the truck bed. "I'd love to."

When they got to Puck's, Blaine washed up while Puck grabbed them a couple beers and then led the way to the garage. Puck's garage was small and cluttered, with just enough room for a couple of people to move around the half-assembled car in the middle.

"Awesome." Blaine moved closer. Although most of the outside was unpainted and the engine was in pieces on a workbench, he could tell the car would be great when in one piece. "Where did you get it?"

"I scored it from this dump near Lima Heights. It was just sitting in someone's yard, and had been for months, all busted up like it'd been in a wreck and they'd been too poor to have insurance fix it. A buddy of mine works at a wrecker service and owed me a favor."

"So you stole it?"

"They weren't using it."

Blaine shook his head and continued walking around the car. "What year?"

"'68. I've started rebuilding the engine and a few other odd things, but I haven't gotten very far. It's going to be sweet when it gets finished."

"If you're still able to drive then," Blaine joked.

"It's not going to take me that long," Puck said, offended. "It just takes time and money. The money isn't always the problem, it's the time. I don't trust most of the guys I know enough to help me with it. They'd probably swipe all the valuable parts while I wasn't looking."

"That's really sad," Blaine said, shaking his head. "What can I do to help?"

"Really?"

"Sure! I'll assist where I can."

"Can you remove a transmission?"

"Yep." Puck looked at him dubiously. "You still don't think I can do this, do you?"

Puck shook his head. "Nope. But I'm willing to see you do it or fail miserably. Either way, I win."

"It's on, then." Blaine grinned and walked over to the car. Puck went to work on the engine, but kept stopping to watch Blaine. He didn't like being watched as he was working, but it was going to be unavoidable. "Where are your jacks stands?"

Puck pointed to the back corner, and Blaine found them among a pile of other stuff. He first began lifting the front of the car, then the rear of the car. He continued performing the steps for taking out a transmission, like removing the shift linkage and the throttle kick down. As he got into the job, he forgot about Puck and started singing along to the radio. He realized how different it was to listen to the radio with Puck than it was with Kurt. Kurt liked a wide variety of music, almost everything, but he tended not to like rock music as much as Blaine. Since he liked everything, he listened to whatever and tended to let Kurt's musical tastes control the music when they were together, and in his free time he just randomized his iPod. He hadn't listened to this much classic rock in a long time.

"I haven't heard this song in ages," Blaine said as he carried the rear U-joint to a small table. "Lynyrd Skynyrd, right?"

"Correct," Puck said.

They started singing together, Blaine paying less attention to pitch and harmonies than usual. He just had fun. When the song was finished, he said, "I haven't listened to this kind of music in ages. I've been enjoying it the last few days with you."

"What do you and Kurt listen to? Broadway musicals from sun up to sun down?"

"Not always. We listen to everything, but Kurt doesn't like the classic rock stuff as much as I do, so we don't listen to it as much."

After awhile, Blaine stood up and looked down at his work, pleased. The transmission was successfully removed from the car and lying on the garage floor. He wiped his hands on his shorts and smeared grease all over them. He wiped his brow with the back of his arm. "Transmission out."

"Impressive," Puck said, setting down his socket wrench and walking over to Blaine. "There's a couple of things we need to do with it, but first we should get some dinner. I'm so hungry I could eat a baby buffalo."

"It's dinner time already?" Blaine exclaimed. He pulled his cell from his pocket and saw he had two missed calls and a text message from Kurt. "Dammit." Ignoring the voice mail and text, he immediately dialed Kurt's cell.

Kurt answered the phone, "Where are you? I was afraid Puck drowned you in some old lady's pool."

"Sorry. I'm at Puck's. We're working on his GTO. Time just got away from me. I took out his transmission and didn't realize it had taken as long as it did."

"Tell the Mrs. to stop worrying," Puck shouted loud enough for Kurt to hear.

"EAT ME, PUCK," Kurt yelled into Blaine's ear. He pulled the phone away from his ear and rubbed it gingerly.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said.

"I don't care. I was just a bit worried. It's not like you to disappear without a word."

"I was going to do some work on that transmission now that I've gotten it out, but it's getting kinda late, so I'll come on home. Have you eaten dinner? We can go get dinner."

"Stay and do your car stuff. I'll go over to my dad's and eat with them. He'll be thrilled. And you can keep having fun."

"You're wonderful, do you know that?"

"I'm going to vomit!" Puck shouted.

"He's just jealous," Kurt said, a smile in his voice. "Love you."

"Love you, too. Be home after while." Blaine ended the call and turned to Puck, blushing slightly.

"If I ever get domesticated like that, kill me."

"Don't knock it until you try it. I prefer being with one person than trying to constantly search for the right one."

"But you've been with the same person since high school. Doesn't that get old or boring?"

Blaine shook his head. "Not at all. It gets better with time."

Puck looked like he didn't believe him, but he didn't say anything.

---

That night, Blaine dreamed about Puck. When he woke the next morning, he rubbed his eyes and wondered what in the hell had been in that pizza Puck had ordered. He got dressed for work and doubled up on his morning coffee since it had been almost midnight when he'd gotten home. As soon as he was finishing breakfast, he heard a horn outside.

"Who could that be?" Kurt asked, getting up from table.

"Puck. He's picking me up this morning."

"I thought I was driving you," Kurt said.

"I thought this would be more convenient, so you didn't have to go out." Blaine stopped in front of Kurt and kissed him with a bit more passion than he should have right before work. "When I get home this evening, it's just me and you all night. I've missed you."

"Mmm…I like this idea." They kissed again, and Blaine heard the car horn again. "Get out of here!" Kurt pushed Blaine away, who stole one more kiss before rushing out of the door.

Blaine was quiet today. He was tired, not only from a lack of sleep but also from the last two days. This pool cleaning stuff wasn't that easy, and although working on the GTO had been a blast, that was also tiring. He found himself yawning off and on all morning. He didn't even have the energy to sing along to the radio.

Puck didn't say anything about Blaine's reticence. They just worked and left each other alone. Blaine had nearly forgotten Puck was even around until he heard a splash. Puck had dived into the deep end of the pool they were cleaning. He swam near the bottom, checking an underwater vent. When he climbed out, Blaine nearly dropped the net he was holding. Puck's muscles were rippling with the exertion of pulling himself up the ladder, his tan skin glistening with drops of water in the sun. He suddenly felt very hot and very uncomfortable.

The rest of the day, Blaine tried extremely hard to not stare at Puck, who had apparently refused to put on a shirt after his swim. He was glad his sunglasses hid his eyes, because otherwise he'd have been in trouble. He alternately felt guilty, turned on, appalled, and intrigued. From a completely objective standpoint, Puck had a great body. His face wasn't bad either. But Blaine wasn't sure this was completely objective admiration. He had dreamed about Puck last night, and although it wasn't any kind of sexual dream, it was still a dream about another man. Maybe he'd been enjoying spending time with Puck a little too much the last two days. Puck just excited him in ways he hadn't felt in a long time. After this crappy year and his depression, it felt good to laugh and do something completely different. And although he loved Kurt, maybe a bit of the excitement had waned and was now manifesting itself in this friendship with Puck. But Blaine wasn't stupid — there was no way in hell Puck was gay, not that Blaine wanted him to be gay. He did wonder though, as he surreptitiously watched his muscles from the other side of the pool, what it'd be like to be thrown up against the wall by Puck, to be fucked until he couldn't stand.

And that's when he realized he was treading dangerous territory.

When they ended the day early because there wasn't an afternoon appointment, Blaine couldn't have been happier. He had to get away from Puck.

---

"I'm coming to work with you," Kurt said the next morning. He was dressed in salmon shorts, a nautical-themed shirt with anchors all over it, boat shoes, and an extra large hat.

"Why are you coming with me?" Blaine asked.

"I miss you. I want to see what you do. Besides, I have to see what is so fascinating about Puck. I've been trying to figure it out all week, and I decided I have to find out first hand. Is that okay? I mean, if you don't want me there, I'll totally understand because it's your thing and I don't want to impose on your time — "

"Ssh," Blaine said, placing two fingers over Kurt's lips. "You're rambling like Rachel. I don't care if you come. It'd be nice to spend the day with you. I just have one question."

"Shoot."

"What's with the hat?"

Kurt laughed. "I can't get too much sun on my face. While I decided a little sun would do me good, although I did bring SPF 80 sunscreen, I want to limit my exposure to the sun. Skin cancer, sun poisoning, and premature wrinkles are not my ideas of a good time."

"You'd be cute with some color on your cheeks."

"You're starting to get tan. You should wear a long sleeve shirt, a tank, or no shirt. You're developing a farmer's tan, and that is completely unacceptable." Kurt lifted the sleeve of Blaine's t-shirt, revealing a slight change in the color of his skin.

"I don't want to get burnt," Blaine said. "Besides, I don't know if I'd feel comfortable. Puck went shirtless almost all day yesterday, and I can't compete with that body."

"Are you self-conscious?" Kurt asked. "You shouldn't be. Your body is amazing."

"Just not like Puck's."

"Overmuscled idiot. Don't worry about him. It's not attractive."

"You're just saying that."

"Is it working?"

"A little."

When they arrived at Puck's, he was putting a few things onto the back of his truck. "Hey dude, I got your text. I would have totally picked you up." Puck then noticed that Kurt was getting out of the passenger side. "Hey Kurt," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Just decided to come see what you and Blaine get up to every day."

"I hope that's okay," Blaine said.

"As long as he doesn't get in the way, the more the merrier." Puck climbed into the truck, and Blaine and Kurt got into the other side. The moment Kurt got in, he scrunched his face in disgust.

"Don't you ever clean?" he asked, kicking an empty fast food container with his foot.

"Why should I? What's wrong with my truck?"

"It's on the verge of being condemned, that's what."

"You can walk you know."

"It's not out of the question."

When they arrived at their first client's house, Blaine unloaded the truck as usual while Puck chatted with the lady. Kurt moved a patio chair into a sunny spot, took off his hat, and started applying sunscreen.

"You could've sunbathed at the beach," Puck shouted at Kurt.

"And what beach would I go to in the middle of Ohio?"

"You could drive to Sandusky. I hear the beaches on Lake Eerie are nice. You could even be back by nightfall."

"And miss watching the two of you work all day? I think not." Kurt grinned and leaned back in his chair. "These views will be much better than anything I'd see on the shores of Lake Eerie."

"Why Kurt, I think you just gave me a compliment," Puck joked.

"Don't let it go to your head, Puckerman. It's Friday. I'm in a good mood."

Blaine laughed and started skimming the pool. As the morning heated up, he decided to follow Kurt's advice and try to get a bit of a tan, so he pulled his shirt over his head. He walked over to Kurt and dropped it beside him.

"The view just got a lot better," Kurt said.

"Will you put sunscreen on my back?" Blaine squatted down and started applying sunscreen on his arms and chest. "Though, with SPF 80, I'm not sure I'm going to get anything at all."

"Aah! So white! It's blinding!" Puck exclaimed as he stopped in front of them.

"When you're covered in wrinkles, we'll see who's joking then," Kurt said, rubbing sunscreen into Blaine's back, a bit more sensually than Blaine had expected. His mind was quickly heading for the gutter, and in front of Puck was not the place for it to do that. He stood up quickly, hoping he wasn't sporting a hard-on. He glanced down quickly. Safe.

Puck pulled his shirt over his head, then flexed his pecs. Blaine began to worry about that hard-on again. "This tan skin still has years before I have to worry about anything like wrinkles. Eat your heart out."

"Nice, sure," Kurt said coolly, "but not better. I prefer my men all sorts of ways. Pale with definition means subtle confidence. Tan and too muscular, while visceral and attractive, means overcompensation."

Blaine laughed as Kurt stared at Puck, never wavering. Puck raised an eyebrow and smirked. Blaine was pretty sure he was enjoying himself. "You're wrong. And I don't even know what visceral means. But you're still wrong."

After Kurt got tired of sitting in the sun, he donned his hat and started wandering around the woman's backyard, moving things here and there. Puck didn't seem to mind, and Kurt seemed to be entertained, so Blaine just kept on working.

"Best guitarist ever," Puck shouted over the music as Jimi Hendrix's Purple Haze came on the radio.

"One of the greatest, yes. The best ever? I'm not so sure," Blaine replied.

Puck stopped what he was doing and stared at Blaine. "You're joking, right?"

"I never joke about music."

"If Jimi Hendrix isn't the best guitarist of all time, then please enlighten me to who is." Puck laid down the chemicals he'd been holding and crossed his arms, watching Blaine closely.

"It's impossible to pick just one," Blaine said. "It's unfair to the different things that the guitarists accomplished. It's like picking the best Broadway singer of all time."

"That one's easy," Kurt interjected. "Patti LuPone, followed by a close second of Gwen Verdon. And then there's Bernadette, and Liza…" he said from over in the corner of the deck.

"My point exactly," Blaine pointed out.

"No. Definitely Patti. There is just one."

"Anyway," Blaine said, looking pointedly at Kurt, "It's too hard to choose. Though my vote would probably go to Eric Clapton. Or George Harrison. Or maybe B.B. King. Then there's Jack White, Les Paul, Muddy Waters, Jimmy Page…See? I can't choose."

"That's laziness. You should choose one definitive guitarist."

"How do you compare Kashmir, The Thrill is Gone, Something, and Seven Nation Army? You can't."

"The same way you compare other things. It's a cop out to use that logic."

"Bullshit," Blaine spat. He noticed that Kurt had come over from where he'd been rearranging plants and patio furniture. He sat beside the pool and was watching them.

"Bullshit?"

"Exactly. I call bullshit. People like to make neat lists and give reasons why guitarists should be ranked higher than others, but how do you factor in genre styles, the fact that someone was alive in the sixties over the eighties, the musical influences of the time, technology, and every other factor?"

"Raw talent. That's what you base it on."

"So, you can sit there and figure out which of those guitarists I named is the best based on talent alone?"

"Yes, I could."

"Bullshit!"

"George Harrison gets thrown out because for all that the Beatles were great, he can't compete with the others. Eric Clapton I concede. Jack White? Really?"

"The fact that I know who he is means something," Kurt said from behind them. "I don't know most of who you named because unless I can sing the guitar solo, I'm really not that interested, but my vote has to go to Joni Mitchell."

"Dude, she's a chick," Puck said. "She didn't even play the guitar."

"Oh yes she did," Kurt said. "And extremely well. She approached chord playing and arrangement completely differently than anyone else in that time. Listen to Blue sometime, you'll see."

"If I did that, I'd grow a vagina."

"Might be an improvement," Kurt replied. "My other vote goes to Lindsey Buckingham."

"Fleetwood Mac sucks."

"Cretin," Kurt said, shaking his head.

"I'm not sure this will ever get resolved," Blaine said.

"Jimi is the reigning king."

"Nope," Blaine said. "Just part of the royal court."

Later, Blaine was standing with Kurt by the patio table, taking a drink of water when Kurt said, "That was some disagreement. I was completely lost through most of it. I didn't know you had such strong opinions about guitarists."

"I have strong opinions when someone is wrong," Blaine said.

"You know," Kurt said, lowering his voice and blushing, "that was kinda hot."

"What was?"

"You two, getting all hot and angry and yelling, asserting your opinions. And all whilst shirtless. I was getting a bit turned on. It was like gay Christmas."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Really? I didn't know you were into that kind of thing."

"Me either. But I could have watched that all day long." Kurt kissed Blaine quickly. "Do you like what I did?"

Blaine looked around the patio, where Kurt had rearranged the furniture, moved all the plants into more appealing displays, and even added some decorative accents here and there. "It looks wonderful. Where did you find the candles and figures?"

"In their garden shed." Kurt pointed to the back corner of the yard. "I was nosy. You don't think they'll get mad do you? The way it was decorated before, if you can call it that, was terrible."

Blaine shrugged. "I hope not. I wouldn't be mad if I came home to a new patio." He gave Kurt a reassuring smile and went to help reload the truck.

---

"You sure you don't mind?" Blaine asked for the hundredth time. "We can go do something else. I know cars bore you."

"But they don't bore you," Kurt said. "And you don't bore me. Besides, I'd like to see you work on a transmission."

Puck had already started working on the engine, and Blaine crouched over the transmission. Kurt cleaned off a spot on the workbench near Blaine; he sat down, crossed his legs, and pulled out a file to start working on his nails. Every so often, Blaine would explain something he was doing to Kurt, and Kurt would nod absently as he continued his manicure.

"So are you putting factory parts in the car, or are you installing aftermarket?" Kurt asked from his perch.

"I'm surprised you know the difference," Puck said, not looking up from the engine.

"My dad owns a tire shop. I've picked up a few things over the years."

"Original parts if I can find them," Puck answered.

"I would imagine original parts for a '69 GTO would be both costly and difficult to obtain."

"It's a '68, not a '69."

Kurt looked up from his nails briefly. "You're wrong. It's a '69."

Puck straightened and turned to face him. "I think I know what year my own car is. It's a '68."

Kurt sighed, jumped off the work bench, carefully put his file down, and crossed the garage. "First, the '69 had a slight grille and taillight revision, which was pretty minor and easily missed." Kurt pointed inside the car. "The '69 model was the first to move the ignition key from the dashboard to the steering column, the gauges were black instead of blue," he pointed to the seat, "all seats had headrests unlike previous models, and finally, and this is the most telling part," Kurt explained, pointing to the driver door window, "the '69 was the first model without a vent window." Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and smiled triumphantly. Puck stared at him open-mouthed, and Blaine wanted to fuck him against the hood. That was probably the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

"How…what…what the fuck was that?" Puck exclaimed. "How do you know anything about cars, let alone something that specific?"

"I grew up in a tire shop." He turned to Blaine. "How many times do I have to tell him that?" He turned back to Puck. "Plus, my dad has rebuilt multiple GTOs. Although cars are absolutely not my thing, I have learned some things over the years." Kurt walked back over to the work bench, hopped on top of it, and picked up his file again.

Puck was still staring at Kurt, confused.

"I think you broke him," Blaine noted.

"Someone needed to," Kurt replied.

"Fuck," was all Puck said.

---

"Come on," Puck said a few hours later. "It'll be fun. Not that you know how to have fun, but it'll be the real kind of fun, which you need to learn about."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Mud bogging, cheap beer, and STDs are not my idea of a good time."

"It's not mud bogging," Puck said. "It hasn't rained in weeks, duh."

"Well…" Blaine was trying to decide.

Kurt surprised him by saying yes. "Karaoke could be fun," he shrugged. "We get to sing, so I'm in."

"Sweet!" Puck said.

"I need to go home and shower," Blaine said, indicating his grease-covered body.

"And change clothes. This is ensemble is appropriate for boats and pools, but not karaoke," Kurt said.

"Meet you at the bar around 9?"

"Cool," Puck agreed.

When they got home, Blaine was in the shower and was surprised when Kurt climbed in with him. "Mmm…this is unexpected, but I like it," he said, kissing Kurt's wet face.

"To conserve time and water, of course." Kurt grinned, picked up a loofah, and started washing Blaine's back. "I had fun today," he said. "I can tell why you like hanging out with Puck."

"You do?" Blaine asked, shocked.

"Yeah. He's kind of fun to be around, in that banter-all-day kind of way. He likes music, he can sing, he can fix cars, he's definitely not hard on the eyes…it completely makes sense."

Blaine turned around, the spray sending water into his eyes and nose. He moved to the side and looked at Kurt. "You're not jealous are you?" He took the loofah from Kurt, who turned around so Blaine could wash his back. "That Puck and I are hanging out and having fun and getting along?"

Kurt shook his head. "I'm not jealous. Maybe I was a bit at first, because he's a hot guy who you've obviously got chemistry with, but I'm not worried. Even if Puck was gay, I know you'd never leave me for him."

"Damn right," Blaine said, placing a kiss on the back of Kurt's wet neck. "It's just…" Blaine fought to find the right words as he squeezed shampoo into his palm and then wiped it in Kurt's hair. "He's so different than New York. When I'm with him, I forget about all that's been keeping me down. It's nice."

Kurt turned around, his hair still sudsy. "I'm so glad he's making you happy. That makes me like him that much more." He stepped under the spray to rinse away the shampoo. "Plus, I kind of like watching the two of you work. It's really hot." He grinned.

"Why, Kurt. Are you saying you got many different pleasures out of tagging along today?"

"Perhaps."

"Mmm." Blaine pushed him back against the wall of the shower. "You know what I liked? Watching you show off to Puck with your surprising car knowledge. It was fucking hot." Blaine kissed Kurt, then kissed a trail from his lips to his neck. "It was kind of like dirty talk," he said against Kurt's skin.

"Car talk is like dirty talk?" Kurt asked dubiously.

"When you do it, yes." Blaine slid his hands around the wet expanse of Kurt's chest, stomach, and back as his mouth worried the flesh on his neck. The day's activities — the week's, the last six month's, activities — had built up inside Blaine and he needed release. He was glad they were going out tonight because he wanted to let loose a bit, drink some, act crazy. But right now, he just wanted Kurt, who was humming pleasantly beneath him, the vibrations reverberating from his tongue throughout his body.

The warm spray beating against his back, Blaine dropped to his knees, water cascading down across his face, ears, back in thin rods of water. His fingers gripped Kurt's thin hips tightly, slipping a bit in the water, Kurt's cock already hard. Blaine pressed a kiss to his bellybutton, to the line of his hip, the inside of his thigh before wrapping his lips around the head of Kurt's cock.

Kurt inhaled sharply, his fingers threading through Blaine's hair. He felt the familiar pressure as Kurt tugged on his hair, urging him and bracing himself at the same time. Blaine slid his mouth along the shaft, fingers roaming down his thighs, back of his legs, around his balls, across his ass. Blaine moved slow and deliberate, taking his time and enjoying the weight and taste of Kurt's cock in his mouth. He was in no rush, and though Kurt's hand was a constant soft pressure on his head, his hips moving just so, Blaine knew Kurt liked the building tease and sensation.

Blaine cupped Kurt's balls and rubbed them gently, moving his mouth a bit faster, his tongue swirling around the tip as he pulled back. He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around his own cock, making quick work of jerking himself off as he sucked Kurt's cock faster and faster. He moved his hand from Kurt's balls to the base of his cock, sliding his hand along with his mouth, squeezing the base and rotating around the tip. He felt Kurt's grip in his hair tighten, opened his eyes and saw the tense muscles of his thighs, then Kurt thrust his hips forward as he came in Blaine's mouth. Blaine swallowed and sped up his hand around his own cock, coming as Kurt's softening cock fell from his lips.

Kurt slowly lowered himself until he was sitting, then pulled Blaine closer for a kiss, warm water rolling down their bodies and swirling around their feet.

---

"You're late," Puck said as they found his table at the back of the bar. It looked almost like an Applebee's with a long bar in the front, but since it was Lima, that wasn't surprising. This wasn't New York.

"Sorry," Blaine said, pulling out a chair. "Kurt couldn't figure out what to wear."

"I didn't know how to dress. This is a bar, and usually when we go to bars in Manhattan I throw together my finest ensembles. But since this was Lima, I decided to go for understated chic. Blaine said I should have just gone simple like him, but every moment is a fashion moment, even in Lima."

Puck looked around the near-empty room. "I don't think anyone is going to notice what you are wearing."

"That's why I went understated."

The waitress arrived and they ordered a round of drinks and some nachos. "On me," Puck said. "For all your hard work today." Both of them stared at him, surprised. "What? The Puckasaurus isn't a total dick."

"Thanks."

"This place is kinda sad," Kurt said, looking around. "I mean, it's Friday night and there are barely any people here."

"It'll pick up in an hour or so," Puck said. "I wanted to get here a bit early to get a good table. Plus, I was hungry. And ready to drink."

"We should send out a text invite for the karaoke party," Kurt said, pulling out his phone. "Maybe the New Directions could get together and sing again."

"Hey, the more the merrier," Puck said, just as the waitress delivered their drinks. He took a deep gulp, finishing nearly the whole beer in one go.

"Done." Kurt set his phone on the table. "Now, I believe we shall begin without an audience. Blaine? Shall we duet?"

"Of course."

Kurt clapped giddily and ran up to the stage, flipping through the book. Blaine waited patiently as Kurt debated between Katy Perry and Lady Gaga. Finally, Kurt said, "I'm choosing Katy Perry's Teenage Dream, because although my range works better with Gaga's songs, we both sound good with Katy Perry. Plus, it was the first song I ever heard you sing."

The song started, and Blaine began singing, his voice filling the room. He looked over at Kurt, who was staring at him with complete joy and open adoration on his face. He was pretty sure his own face mirrored Kurt's. He stepped back as Kurt took over singing lead and danced around the stage. As they harmonized on the chorus, the handful of people who had been in the bar started filtering towards the stage, sitting in tables to watch. When they finished the song, everyone burst into applause, some people whooping and hollering.

"Fuck yeah!" Puck said when they returned to the table. "My turn. Who's coming with me?"

Kurt pushed Blaine. "You go with him."

"Yeah, come on. Let's tear up some classic rock."

"Oh my," Blaine said as they walked on stage.

"Let's start easy. Some Beatles?" The song started and Puck began singing. He hadn't lost his voice over the years, Blaine noticed. He'd sounded good singing along to the radio in the car, but now he sounded excellent. While they sang, Mercedes and Artie showed up. And as they returned to the table, Sam arrived. "It's starting to be a party now!" Puck said, ordering a couple pitchers of beer.

"Beer?" Kurt said, turning up his nose.

"Snob," Blaine teased, pouring himself a second glass.

A couple of hours later, Blaine was drunk. Positively. He was laughing at something Sam had said and sitting in Mercedes' lap. He had his arm around her neck. Artie was chatting up their waitress on the other side of the table.

"You wear, like, the best earrings," Blaine said, flicking the hoops repeatedly. "If I had my ears pierced, I'd buy my earrings from you."

"We could pierce them!" Mercedes exclaimed. "Let's pierce Blaine's ears! I need a needle. Anyone have a needle?" Sam shook his head sadly, and Puck dug in his pockets.

"No one is piercing anything," Kurt said, laughing.

"Oh, you can pierce me, baby, anytime you want!"

"That was terrible," Sam said, punching Blaine's arm. "Perv."

"I want to sing!" Blaine whined, jumping off Mercedes' lap and knocking over an empty glass. "Who's with me?"

"I'm too drunk to sing," Sam said. "But I need to drink more." He carefully picked up the pitcher and very deliberately poured beer into his glass, spilling only a bit.

"I gotta go pee. Kurt, come to the bathroom with me." Mercedes grabbed his hand and tugged him out of his chair.

"But I'm not a girl!" he said, trailing behind her.

"I'll sing with you," Puck said, finishing off his glass of beer as he stood up. "Come on, Blaine. Let's show these fuckers how it's done!"

"Whoo!" Sam shouted as Artie whistled while they stumbled up on stage.

"Hello LIMA!" Blaine shouted into the microphone. "We are here to rock your world!" The audience, who had been listening to them sing all night, exploded in applause. "I'm Blaine…um, I'm Blaine! And this is Puck-a-roo."

"Puck-a-roo?" Puck said, leaning away from the microphone. "Puckman. I'm Puckman. Like Pacman? Get it?" Although on stage, they both burst into laughter as the music came on.

"Dude, I love this song!" Blaine shouted, missing the first few bars of The Outfield's "Your Love." Blaine started singing and got into performance zone, singing probably more loudly and more animatedly than when sober.

He noticed Mercedes and Kurt return to the table, and he waved to Kurt from the stage. Then he turned and glanced at Puck, who was also looking at him. For a moment, there was just the two of them on the stage, in the world. Blaine was lost in Puck's hazel eyes, the unguarded look on his face, the mixture of joy, concentration, and amusement. In Blaine's alcohol-addled brain, he realized it was weird that he was thinking all of this about Puck, but more than that, it was weird that Puck seemed to be looking at him in the same way.

---

"You look amazing," Blaine said as he and Kurt found a table in the reception hall. "I don't think I've told you tonight. I'm afraid you may have taken some of the attention away from Mike." He kissed Kurt's cheek as they sat down.

"Mike and Tina looked beautiful," Kurt said. "And the way they were glowing obscured anything but the two of them. It was a beautiful wedding. Everything I thought a Jewish-Chinese wedding would be!"

Others trickled into the wedding reception, and their table filled as Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Finn, and Sam joined them. After the table discussed how much they loved the wedding and how wonderful Tina and Mike looked, Puck turned to Kurt.

"I got a call from Mrs. Johnson, the lady whose pool we cleaned yesterday. She said she got the shock of her life when she walked onto her deck and barely recognized it since someone had completely redecorated it."

"Oh shit. I got you fired, didn't I?" Kurt blushed, embarrassed. "I am so sorry, Puck. I shouldn't have done anything, should have just let her back deck remain in the dregs of ugly-dom…I shouldn't even have come with Blaine yesterday — "

"Kurt, if you'll shut up for three seconds," Puck said, "I was going to say that she absolutely loved it and couldn't stop thanking me for the wonderful job I had done."

"Really?"

"Really. And so, I was thinking, since you and Blaine like share the same brain and kidneys and arms and stuff, would you also like a job? As a sort of deck remodeler. You can work on the title."

Kurt clapped his hand to his mouth, eyes wide and bright. "Seriously? This is fabulous! Oh, I can make strides to make the yards of Lima presentable and nice!"

"That's awesome, Kurt. Congratulations," Blaine said, squeezing his knee.

About an hour later, Kurt and Mercedes were on the dance floor with Rachel and Finn, and Blaine was a bit restless, so he decided to check out the garden outside the reception hall. He was ambling slowly, hands stuck in his pockets, softly singing to himself, when he heard footsteps. He turned and saw Puck, glass of punch in hand.

"Thought I'd bring you one, too," he said, handing it to Blaine. Blaine thanked him and took a sip.

"That's really cool what you did for Kurt. He will definitely enjoy having a new project for the summer, and he'll be glad not to sit around every day doing nothing while I work with you."

"Kurt is kind of cool," Puck admitted. "Makes me think I should have been less of a dick to him in high school. But then again, that applies to pretty much everyone I ever knew."

Blaine sat on a bench, and Puck sat beside him. The night was warm, but not uncomfortable. He felt sleepy and happy and was glad that he didn't have anything to do the next day except lay in bed with Kurt all day.

"What are you smiling about?" Puck asked, sticking his cup behind a large-leafed green plant.

"Thinking about how I'm glad I don't have to do anything tomorrow. I'm tired. I've worked with you a week and you've worn me out." He laughed.

"You get used to it after awhile," Puck explained.

"Admittedly though, I'm a bit hung-over today."

"Me, too. But I had a good time last night."

"I did, too. Thanks for suggesting that we go. Otherwise, I would have been the loser who spent Friday night home."

"At least you have someone to spend it with," Puck said. Blaine studied him closely, wondering if Puck realized how much he just let slip with that simple phrase.

"It's still nice to go out."

"We should sing together more," Puck said. "We make quite a duet."

"That was a lot of fun. I can't tell you the last time I had that much fun singing."

"I thought you sang all the time. Isn't that your job?"

Blaine sighed. What the hell, he thought. "I don't actually have a job. After I graduated in May, I couldn't find anything. Kurt and Rachel have parts in shows, even Finn has a job doing sound for a theater, but me? Couldn't land a part to save my life. I tried out for everything — musicals, plays, Broadway, off-Broadway, off-off-Broadway, children's theater — hell, I even tried out to do a puppet show of Peter Pan. That's why we're spending the summer here. Kurt thought I needed a break from New York and all the rejection." He scrubbed his hand across his face.

"Dude, that fucking sucks. If you can't find a part, then I don't know who they're giving them to."

Blaine cocked his head to the side, surprised. "Did you just give me a compliment?"

"Don't let it go to your head."

"It's hard to talk to Kurt about this stuff, because he's doing so well, and I'm so proud of him. He feels guilty because he found something and I didn't, but he got out a year ago, so it's a whole different season."

"What are you going to do if you don't find a part?" Puck asked, shifting so he faced Blaine more.

Blaine shrugged. "I don't have a fucking clue. I'm sure there's something I could do. Theme parks, murder mystery dinner theaters, sports park mascot. I could go to Jersey and try to find something." He shuddered at the thought. "I thought my theme park days were over. I made an ass out of myself enough in high school doing that shit."

"You'll find something."

"I know you're just saying it. But thanks." Blaine smiled.

Puck shook his head. "I'm not just saying it. I'm serious. You're like the most talented person I've ever met — but if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'm denying everything. And then I'll break your legs."

He laughed. "Okay." A silence fell between them. They were still looking at each other, but neither looked away. Blaine could hear the notes from a fast-tempo song and laughter floating out from the reception. Suddenly, with Puck looking at him like this, his eyes so close, he remembered their karaoke duet the night before. His entire body flushed, and he felt a tingling going up his spine. Puck shifted closer, and Blaine felt a magnetic pull between the two of them.

He bolted up from the bench, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously. "Um, thanks for listening."

"No problem. I don't think I've heard you say that many curse words before. It was amusing." Puck laughed as if nothing had just happened. Blaine thought for a moment that he had imagined everything and overreacted, but there was something in Puck's eyes that told him different.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." He turned and pointed to the reception. "I need to go find Kurt, make sure he hasn't drunk too much champagne or anything. See you Monday?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked quickly into the reception, his heart pounding in his throat.

This was bad. This was very bad.

---

Blaine wasn't nearly as excited to go to work Monday morning as he had been before. The only thing that kept him from completely flaking out was that Kurt would be there with him, and that he didn't really want to do that to Puck. But he was nervous. He didn't know how to act, how to talk around Puck. After the wedding, he'd been obsessing over what almost — or almost didn't — happen between him and Puck. He was glad when Kurt suggested they play Wii bowling so he could occupy himself with something other than his looped thoughts. Then Kurt kept him distracted Saturday night, and all day Sunday. Blaine was extremely happy that Kurt seemed to know he needed his brain fucked into oblivion because that's exactly what he did. It was almost like he knew or something. But Blaine was glad he didn't. His stupidity didn't need to screw everything up.

They did four cleanings, two where Kurt was able to perform a bit of his redecorating magic. During the other two he simply watched them from the shade of a tree or a patio umbrella. Blaine had spent most of the day quiet again, focusing on his work instead of talking to anyone — Puck or Kurt. He had to get control of his emotions and hormones, because he wasn't doing a very good job in the self-control department. And when Kurt happily agreed to go with Puck to the garage to work on the GTO, Blaine could have kicked him. But it would have looked weird if he'd said no, so he went along as Kurt and Puck argued about 80s New Wave.

"You're quiet," Kurt said softly, standing close by Blaine as he continued his work on the transmission. Blaine straightened and Kurt set his chin on his shoulder. "Is everything okay?"

"Just tired from the weekend."

"I guess I didn't give you a chance to rest yesterday, did I?"

Blaine smiled. "I wouldn't have had it any other way."

Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheek and went over to Puck. "Is there some kind of petty cash or company reimbursement policy? I need supplies if you expect me to do any bit of serious redecorating."

Puck tossed his socket wrench on a bench, reached inside his pocket, and pulled out his wallet. He handed Kurt a credit card. "This is for business expenses only. Don't spend too much, and bring the receipts back."

"Wow, so professional. So unlike you." Kurt grabbed the credit card and pocketed it as he ducked a greasy swipe from Puck.

"I'm going to get mud on that pristine mug of yours before it's over, you wait and see," Puck threatened waving a greasy finger at Kurt.

"Unlikely. I'm faster, smaller, and more lithe."

"I'm more devious."

"True, but you just gave away your secret, so now I know to beware."

Puck chucked a greasy rag at him, narrowly missing his shirt. "Get out of here before I change my mind!" He laughed and went back to the engine. After Kurt had been gone a few minutes, Puck said, "You doing okay over there, Blaine? Haven't heard you squawking with the radio much today. In fact, I haven't heard you say much of anything. You and Kurt seemed to ramble incessantly to one another when together, so what gives?"

Blaine didn't look up from the transmission. "Nothing. I'm fine. Just tired."

"Bullshit," Puck said. Blaine heard the clang of metal against metal, and he sighed. Here it goes.

He straightened and looked at Puck, not even attempting to mask his exasperation. "What do you want me to say, Puck? Tell me so I can get on with this stupid transmission."

"Dude, the transmission isn't stupid." Puck swiveled on his stool, lurched forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I know why you've gone all cold fish."

"Please enlighten me."

"Nothing happened, so you don't have anything to be guilty about."

Blaine ran a hand through his curls. So, he didn't imagine everything. "Things should have never gotten as close as they did." He stood up, paced back and forth in the small space. Without hesitating, Puck jumped up, crossed the garage, and grabbed Blaine by the shoulders. Before Blaine could react, Puck kissed him. It wasn't a soft, tender kiss; it was rough and forceful and nothing but teeth and lips and stubble. Though his mind was screaming, Blaine grabbed Puck's hair and pulled it roughly, expelling all his frustration, guilt, and anxiety into the kiss as his tongue warred with Puck's for dominance. When the back of his legs hit a bench, he snapped out of his daze.

"Get off me." He shoved Puck away, and stood up uncertainly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "This never happened. Do you hear me? Whatever this was," he said, finger pointing between the two of them, "just got out of our system. I'm not losing Kurt over this." He dropped back beside the transmission.

"Wouldn't dream of asking you to." He heard a crash as Puck punched something.

---

Blaine knew he fucked up. He had been doing nothing but fucking up for the past few months. And he felt really shitty. And sorry for himself. So, he did what any other person would do in that situation.

He got shitfaced.

And the universe seemed to approve. Because Blaine didn't want to get drunk with Kurt — oh no, there was no way he was running his mouth around Kurt with fucking Puck on his brain. But that all worked itself out. Rachel wanted to do something with Kurt and Mercedes — honestly Blaine didn't listen to what, just heard going out with Rachel and Mercedes. So, he called a cab and went to the karaoke bar, though this time he wasn't there to sing. He was there to drink.

It never took Blaine very much to get drunk. His tolerance hadn't improved any since high school, which in New York was really a good thing for his wallet. A few drinks and he was good.

So, after his fifth shot of whiskey, Blaine was swimming in his thoughts. He couldn't believe that Puck had kissed him — and he had kissed him back. That was the worst thing. And since when was Puck fucking gay? Then he laughed to himself; fuck and Puck rhymed! The bartender looked at him like he was crazy, and Blaine knew that if he kept laughing to himself, the bartender would cut him off and that would not be good. But really, Puck? Blaine knew Puck fucked anything that moved, but never would have imagined he would be interested in guys. But Blaine wasn't worried about Puck's sexuality. That was Puck's problem to deal with — and Blaine had already dealt with that problem a long time ago, and he didn't feel like trying to come to terms with someone else's sexuality because his own had been hard enough, thank you very much. And thinking about it, Blaine realized liquor was one of the main reasons he had his own sexual identity crisis. Stupid drunken spin the bottle and awesome 80s duets with Rachel. But it worked itself out in the end, because he ended up knowing he was gay and with Kurt and she ended up with Finn and now they were like his sister and brother, which was pretty awesome if you thought about it. Sister and brother!

But wait. He was rambling to himself again. He stole a glance at the bartender to make sure he wasn't rambling to himself out loud. He seemed okay. Puck. Kiss. Right. Why did he kiss Puck? He'd been hit on by much hotter guys in New York and never wavered a bit. Never even wanted to kiss someone else. So why now? Was something broken inside him? Had not getting a part in a show completely broken him so that he now was nothing but a dumb fuck?

He loved Kurt. He knew that with all of his heart, soul, cock, being, intestines — his everything! He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Kurt, so why Puck? What hold did that Neanderthal have over him? It couldn't just be that he was a nice piece of manflesh. While he missed buff, strong, rough men from time to time, he never missed it enough to want something outside of Kurt. Plus, Kurt had shaped up over the last few years, hit his man stage, and had some pretty fucking nice arms. Mmm…Kurt's arms…Focus, Anderson! Personal crisis now, fantasizing later.

He hated to admit that Puck excited him. He was fun, and it had been so long since he'd had stupid fun. It had to be his personal rut. When he went to New York, he never imagined in a million years that he would be the one without a part. He was Blaine motherfucking Anderson! He was the best Warbler there ever was, and was one of the top two in New Directions (best after Rachel graduated). He had gotten parts so often when Kurt hadn't, and now it was reversed. Fate is an ironic bitch, isn't she? The big fish in a small pond has gotten eaten by fucking robot sharks on steroids in New York.

Maybe he had done something wrong. Maybe he had been a terrible person and this was his punishment. He was never going to find a part, instead be a penniless actor or have to go to LA and do hemorrhoid commercials. And he was going to lose Kurt, the best thing that had ever happened to him. Oh god, he was going to lose everything. He was —

"What are you doing here?"

A voice cut into his interior pity party. Angrily, he turned to the source and stared straight at Puck.

"Oh for fuck's sake, not you."

"Nice to see you, too." Puck sat on the stool beside Blaine. "You smell like you'll go up in flames any minute."

"You need to leave."

"It's a public bar."

Blaine turned away from him and lifted his glass to his lips. It was empty. "Dammit. I need more liquor." He waved his hand, but Puck gently lowered it.

"I think you've had enough."

"None of your concern."

"Drinking alone is never a good thing," Puck said.

"How do you know I'm alone? Maybe someone is in the bathroom." Blaine stuck his chin out in what he hoped was a haughty fashion.

"I've been watching you for half an hour."

"Oh."

"Why don't you let me take you home? I'm guessing since you're here alone that Kurt has no idea you are here. And you are too drunk to drive yourself home."

Blaine stood up. "I'll get a taxi." He took a step and stumbled into Puck. "Fuck."

"Come on." Puck grabbed Blaine around the waist and began leading him to his truck.

"The universe hates me," Blaine told Puck as they stumbled through the bar. "Why are you here?"

"Is this some existential question?"

Blaine gaped at him. "I can't believe you even know the word existential."

"Came for some dinner and a beer." Puck opened the door and they stepped outside. "This fresh air might do you some good. Your breath smells like 180 proof."

"I'm a failure," Blaine said as they crossed the parking lot. "I'm a nothing. Kurt will leave me because I'm not talented or popular or employed. He'll meet some wonderful guy with a cock as big as a post with big muscles and a yacht and a mouth like a Hoover who likes bridal shows and has a puppy."

"You have a lot of faith in the men Kurt could attract," Puck said, propping Blaine on the side of the truck as he dug his keys out of his pocket. Blaine looked around him and doubled over in laughter. He would have fallen over if Puck wouldn't have stopped him. "What?"

"Your…your name. Puck, fuck, truck. It rhymes!" Blaine burst into another fit of laughter, and Puck groaned as he tried to stabilize him against the side of the truck.

"You're an idiot." He finally opened the door. "And you're not going to lose Kurt, I promise you."

Blaine immediately sobered. "If he finds out we kissed, I will."

"Don't worry about that." Puck helped him climb into the truck, then closed the door behind him. Before Puck stuck the key in the ignition, he turned to make sure Blaine was okay in the front seat. Blaine's brain was scrambled. He couldn't figure out all that was going on, because he was confused when he saw Puck beside him, but very happy. Then he forgot how he got out of the bar, and for the last ten minutes (or however long ten minutes felt) he felt like he was on autopilot. Maybe getting drunk was a bad idea.

"All right. Are we set?" Puck asked. Blaine nodded, then closed the distance between them and kissed Puck enthusiastically. Puck's arms went around his waist as his tongue went inside his mouth, and Blaine realized this was a different kiss than earlier, gentler and more intimate. It both excited him and terrified him.

He pushed himself back, away from Puck's warm and talented mouth. "Not a-fucking-gain! What is it with you?" Blaine asked. Then, he opened the truck door and puked.

---

"Hey Puck! I didn't expect to — What in the hell is wrong with Blaine?" Kurt exclaimed as Puck helped drag him into the house.

"He's just a tad drunk."

"He looks terrible." Kurt rushed ahead of Puck and cleared a space for Blaine on the couch. "Is he okay?"

"He puked a bit, and I think he was embarrassed about that, but hell I say better out than in." Puck helped lay Blaine back on the couch. He groaned, his head pounding, the room spinning, his stomach churning.

"He's never been much of a drinker," Kurt said, disappearing and bringing back a bottle of water. "Here, honey, drink this." He crouched beside Blaine and rubbed his damp curls as he slowly drank from the bottle. "When I got home and didn't find him here, I figured he was with you, but I thought you were working on the GTO, not getting drunk!"

Puck dropped into a chair. "It was an accident. I wanted to get some dinner and a beer, then we started drinking, well Blaine started drinking a lot. I shouldn't have let him drink so much. I'm sorry."

Blaine shook his head, instantly regretting it. "Puck is lying."

"No, I really am sorry."

"That's not what I meant."

"Ignore him," Puck said. "He's been rambling randomness all night."

"Sounds like him," Kurt said, smoothing a few hairs from his forehead then dropping a kiss to it.

Blaine must have fallen asleep (or passed out) because at one point, he woke up on the couch and saw Puck and Kurt talking at the small breakfast table in the kitchen. Later, he woke up again and they were still there, which confused Blaine because he had no clue what they would actually have to talk about for that long. The third time he woke up, he realized he must be dreaming or hallucinating because he swore he saw Kurt kissing Puck. He realized it must be a dream because he was entirely turned on and couldn't take his eyes off it. Kurt's slight body against Puck's, Puck's strong arms wrapped around him, his fingers lost in Kurt's hair, their mouths moving against each other with the occasional glimpse of wet tongue. If it wasn't a dream and Blaine could control his actions, he might have started jacking himself off. Instead, the dream ended or he fell back asleep. He couldn't keep track of reality anymore.

---

The next morning, he felt rough, but not as bad as he'd felt after other drunken nights. He raised up and stretched, his back and neck stiff from sleeping on the couch all night. He padded into the bathroom, relieved himself for what felt like ten minutes, and then jumped in the shower. The hot water helped his stiff, aching body and began to clear his mind. He remembered what happened in the truck last night — though the whole thing was really hazy, and he cursed himself. He was going to have to tell Kurt, but not this morning. He felt too bad to do that.

"Morning, sunshine!" Kurt said brightly as Blaine walked into the kitchen towel drying his hair. "You don't look so bad after last night. The ibuprofen and water must have helped."

"Thanks." He leaned over and kissed Kurt, then dropped into a chair. Kurt set a warm bowl of oatmeal in front of him. "You're the best." He looked over at the time and almost choked. "Shit. It's three o'clock!"

Kurt shrugged. "You needed to sleep. You've been far too tense lately. Besides, Puck said not to worry about today since he had a light schedule. He knew you'd be hung over. Though he probably didn't get much sleep himself. He didn't leave here until after midnight."

Blaine's eyes widened in shock. "What did you two do?"

"Talked."

"I thought I saw the two of you in the kitchen." Kurt nodded. At that moment Blaine remembered what else he saw — or thought he saw — last night. Was that real? Did Kurt kiss Puck? No. There was no way.

Blaine spent most of the day dozing on the couch while watching an NCIS marathon. By the time Kurt wandered into the living room, looking like he wanted to ask something, Blaine felt like a human being.

"What?"

"What what?" Kurt asked, trying to look innocent.

"What do you want to ask me? It's all over your face."

Kurt sat on the other end of the couch. "I want to go out tonight. You don't have to, because you went on a bender last night, but Mercedes called and everyone is going to the karaoke bar tonight, and I really want to go. But I don't want to leave you or make you come out when you don't want to –"

"Kurt, I'll come. I'll be your DD since I definitely won't be drinking again tonight." His stomach churned uneasily. "And as long as I'm with you, I don't care what I'm doing." Kurt blushed slightly and grinned shyly. Blaine couldn't believe that after all this time, sometimes Kurt still looked like he was surprised Blaine loved him. He didn't understand how Kurt could feel that way, but then again, he sometimes didn't know why Kurt loved him. "I don't deserve you," Blaine said seriously, grabbing Kurt's hand. He threaded their fingers together.

"You're obviously still drunk. Don't ever say that."

"I love you."

"I love you." Blaine leaned forward and kissed Kurt, sighing into the familiar comfort of his mouth. He knew this was where he belonged. He reluctantly pulled himself away and got off the couch.

An hour later, they were walking into the bar. "This is becoming our regular haunt, no?" Kurt said as they entered and the bartender nodded.

"It's all Puck's fault." Mercedes waved excitedly from a large table in the corner. They greeted everyone around the table as they slipped past Artie's wheelchair and into the crowded booth beside Sam. He took a deep breath and braced himself. He could do this. He'd decided earlier while on the couch that he was being ridiculous. He was going to be cool about Puck. They were friends, that was it. Regardless of their multiple kisses. Hopefully the group setting would allow him enough distraction to test his theory.

"Back in uniform I see," Puck said. "How I've missed those ridiculous cardigans and gay bowties."

"My gay bowties were getting lonely. They thought I was turning straight or something." Blaine laughed and the tension in his body eased. He could do this.

A little later, people were dancing in front of the karaoke stage. "Let's dance!" Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling him from the booth.

"Good idea!" Mercedes said, grabbing Puck's hand. Sam followed, pushing Artie's wheelchair out onto the floor as they all started dancing. Soon Blaine and Kurt had wrapped their arms around each other and separated from the group. Blaine toyed with the hair at the base of Kurt's neck, Kurt's hands resting low on his hips.

"I'm glad we came out tonight," Blaine admitted. "This is a lot of fun."

"Well, I am a genius, after all," Kurt said.

"That you are." Blaine leaned forward and pressed his lips against Kurt's.

Suddenly, a voice broke into their thoughts. "Hey fags, why don't you take that somewhere else? I just ate my dinner." Blaine jerked his head to the side and was staring into the face of two very mean looking guys. "Yeah, I'm talking to you. You and your little fag need to get off our dance floor."

Blaine stepped sideways, sliding his arm down Kurt's back, and stared at the man, unsure what to do. He was less concerned about the man than Kurt, and when he glanced at him, Kurt was frozen to the spot.

"Now there's no need for that," Blaine said, voice embarrassingly unsteady.

"It's bad enough we have to watch him parade around in his faggy clothes," the man said, pointing at Kurt. Kurt had gone for a more high fashion outfit, sure, but, inappropriately, Blaine thought that Kurt had worn much gayer outfits, if they were classifying things. "We have to see you two sinning on the dance floor."

Blaine felt his face burn. He was furious. The man stepped closer to Kurt, who looked too scared to move. He shifted an inch in front of Kurt, ready to pounce before the man moved another fraction closer to Kurt, but it was unnecessary. Puck had somehow gotten just as close to Kurt, almost between him and the other guys, and there was a burning hatred in his eyes that unnerved Blaine. He was really glad he was on the other side of it.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Puck had never looked so intimidating. The man seemed to cow just a bit, but not completely.

"You taking up for these queers? You one, too?" He craned around and looked at the whole group. "Only one girl," then he pointed at Kurt, "unless you count that one."

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Puck had reared back and punched the guy in the face. Then it was chaos. Puck and one guy were beating the shit out of each other, then the other moved towards Kurt. Blaine saw nothing but red as he punched the guy in the jaw, and then it was like someone else controlled him because he was punching in a way he didn't even know he could, and Kurt was beside him, leaning away and slapping the guy repeatedly. He felt hands jerking him backwards and gripping his arms painfully, and the next thing he knew he was being thrown outside along with Kurt, Puck, and the other guys. Mercedes, Sam, and Artie rushed out as the security guard slammed the door.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," the guy who Puck'd been beating on earlier said, sprinting towards Puck. Easily, Puck knocked him so hard he fell backwards onto the pavement with a sickening thwap.

Puck spit on him. "I should kill you, you narrow-minded fuck." Puck kicked the man's side, then glared at the other one. "Get this worthless piece of shit out of my sight, and you better hope to god I don't ever see you fucks again." The man dragged his friend to his feet as best he could, then hurried away.

Later, after everyone else had left, Blaine stood with Kurt by Puck's truck. Kurt was glued to his side, trembling. He rubbed comforting circles on his back.

"I'm sorry about everything," Puck said, still hyped up from the fight. "Fucking pricks!" he yelled. A few people turned and looked at him.

"Thanks for taking up for us like that," Blaine said. "You didn't have to. We could have managed."

"Managed what? No offense, but you two are not exactly Schwarzenegger and Stallone. Those guys could have flattened you."

Blaine sat up straighter, offended. "Hey, Kurt and I totally took that one guy down."

"The two of you on one guy, plus all Kurt was doing was bitch-slapping him." For the first time, Kurt moved and glared at Puck. "But it was very brave, nonetheless."

"I've never gotten thrown out of a bar." Kurt shook his head as Puck and Blaine stared at him. "Even worse, I was in a bar fight. How base could I be? I can't decide if I'm horrified or proud."

"Be proud!" Puck said. "I've been thrown out of almost every bar from here to Toledo."

"I don't think that's something to be proud of," Blaine pointed out.

"Whatever. Look, are you guys all right? It didn't cause some crazy post-traumatic trauma or something?"

Blaine smiled and shook his head. "No, we're good. I think." He looked at Kurt. "Are you good?"

"Yes. I just…I thought I wouldn't have to deal with that kind of stuff anymore. Living in New York has made me forget how backwards people are." Blaine squeezed his hand.

"That's why you have me," Puck said. "I'm always looking for a good fight, so you'll never have to worry about someone messing with you."

"Bet you regret hanging around us now, huh?"

"Are you kidding?" Puck exclaimed. "I don't regret hiring you. Everyone has raved about Kurt's decorating, Blaine has cut my work in half, so really, you're the best things that I've ever come across. Plus, I got to get into a bar fight. Been way too long."

"That was nice," Kurt said. "The work thing, not the bar fight thing. I'm not used to nice Puck."

"You deserve a bit of it today. But it's a one-time deal. Tomorrow, I'm back to the old Puck."

"Understood."

---

Once again, Blaine couldn't sleep. He was tired, near exhausted, but his brain was still a swirl of emotions. He honestly hadn't calmed down since everything had happened with Kurt. His protective instinct didn't get kicked into motion that often, and it had been thrown into overdrive. Kurt was asleep, so Blaine was in the kitchen, staring pensively in the fridge. The air was cold against his bare feet and chest, and even his thin pajama pants weren't doing much to block out the cold. But he just held the door open, the white light spilling into the dark kitchen as he tried to decide if he wanted something to eat or not.

"Something interesting in there?" He turned around and Kurt was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, hair mussed and wearing his designer bathrobe. Blaine smiled lazily.

"Trying to decide what I wanted to eat. Perhaps I'll just have some milk." He pulled the carton from the fridge and set it on the counter as he pulled two glasses from the cabinet. "Are you okay? I mean, about what happened today?"

Kurt waved his hand dismissively. "I'm fine. Shook me up momentarily, but you and Puck made it better. But I don't want to talk about that."

"Okay." Blaine poured two glasses of milk, then slid one over to Kurt. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't really asleep. I don't sleep well when you're restless."

"Sorry."

"Blaine, I kissed Puck." Blaine choked on his milk. He spit it back into the glass and stared at Kurt, shocked. He shook his head.

"No. You mean, I kissed Puck. Twice."

"No, I kissed him. What do you mean you kissed him twice?"

"You kissed him? When? How?" Blaine's eyes felt wide as saucers. So, that was what he saw the other night! His brain couldn't comprehend everything Kurt was saying.

"The night he brought you home drunk."

"I thought I dreamed that."

"You saw us?"

"You were right in my line of vision. If you were trying to hide it, you did a terrible job."

"What do you mean you kissed him twice?" Kurt asked again.

"The night I got drunk and the day before in the garage." Blaine hung his head shamefully. "I'm so sorry. If you hate me, I understand."

"Are you deaf?" Kurt slapped Blaine on the ear. "I kissed him, too." Blaine looked up and saw Kurt staring off into space. "What the hell do you think Puck is up to?"

Blaine was taken aback. "Huh. I hadn't thought of that."

Kurt looked at him like he was stupid. "What is wrong with your brain the last couple days?"

"I've been preoccupied with you leaving me."

"Where am I going?"

"No, that you were going to break up with me because I kissed Puck. And I kinda liked it."

Kurt shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Blaine, why would I end our relationship because you kissed Puck? Obviously the man is irresistible. We both kissed him. If we let him loose in New York, the gays would devour him like zombies." Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand. "It doesn't really surprise me. He…he does something for you that I haven't been able to." Blaine opened his mouth to argue, but Kurt covered it with his fingers. "It's okay. I'm happy about it. I love that you're smiling again, and laughing, and Puck has helped make that happen."

"So, we know why I kissed him. Why did you?"

Kurt smiled. "I thought I just explained it."

"You're something else."

"I know. A gay zombie." They laughed. "Besides, the man is fucking ripped. Maybe we should spend less time singing and more time at the gym."

"You're wonderful, do you know that?" Blaine stood up, pulling Kurt close as he wrapped his arms around him. "I've been terrified I would lose you. I never want that to happen, not for all the Puck's in the world. This gay zombie only wants to eat your brains."

"You can stop with the bad jokes anytime."

"Okay." Blaine kissed Kurt passionately, pulling him as close as he could. Kurt slowly tugged him to the floor, lying back on the cold tile as Blaine covered him. Blaine felt lighter than he had in days, weeks, months. Suddenly, there were too many clothes between them and Blaine pulled open Kurt's robe so he could touch every inch of his warm skin. He placed kisses along his jaw, his collarbone, down his breastbone, and across his belly. He recaptured Kurt's mouth and wrapped his hand around his cock, slowly sliding along the hard shaft. Kurt moaned into his mouth, his hands lost in his hair as his body writhed in pleasure. Blaine rubbed himself against Kurt's leg, the friction from his pajama pants rough against his cock, but he didn't want to move just yet. He wanted to touch every part of Kurt possible, but right now, he was intoxicated by his tongue.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed as he flicked the lobe of his ear with his tongue. "Bedroom. Lube."

Blaine lifted himself and stared down at Kurt, his mouth red, lips kiss swollen. He brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, and even in the dark of the kitchen noticed the lovely pink blush across his pale skin. "Back in a flash."

"Don't you want me to come with you to the bedroom?" he asked.

"I'm fucking you on this floor." Quickly, Blaine left and reappeared with the bottle. Kurt had gotten his arms out of the robe, and was lying wantonly on the floor, leaning back on his elbows, his legs spread open. "Fuck," was all Blaine could manage. He slipped off his pants, and Kurt made show of licking his lips. If Blaine was thinking clearly, he may have laughed, but all he could think about was Kurt. He lowered himself to his knees, the soft terrycloth of the robe providing a bit of cushion against the hard floor. He squirted some of the liquid in his hand, then deliberately and painfully slowly rubbed it on his cock. Kurt watched, mesmerized. Blaine leaned forward, claiming his mouth again as he gently slid two slick fingers inside Kurt. He involuntarily jerked when Kurt bit his tongue as he slid his fingers in and out.

"Flip over," Blaine whispered, removing his fingers. They shifted as they rearranged themselves, Kurt on his hands and knees, Blaine kissing the back of Kurt's neck, then placing kisses down his spine. Blaine then locked his body perfectly against Kurt, wrapping one arm around Kurt's waist as he slowly slid inside. Kurt tensed around him, then relaxed with a breath, and when Blaine had pushed all the way inside, he pulled out then started thrusting faster. The house was silent except for the sound of their breathing and skin against skin. Blaine wanted to bury himself inside Kurt, crawl inside him and live forever. The more he pushed inside, the more Kurt pushed back against him, but he could never get deep enough. "I love you," he murmured against Kurt's shoulder.

"I know," Kurt replied, and Blaine pulled out completely, rolled Kurt around onto his back, placing his hands on either side of Kurt's head, and then slammed back into him as he covered his mouth in a kiss. Kurt wrapped his legs around Blaine's waist, his fingers sliding in the dampness of Blaine's back. Blaine tried to move his hand to Kurt's cock and almost lost his balance, which caused Kurt to laugh. Blaine kissed the edge of his mouth. Kurt grabbed his cock and Blaine felt his arm moving between them. It only took a few more thrusts, and then Blaine was shuddering against Kurt, both Kurt's hands rubbing soothing circles on his back as he placed kisses over Blaine's face.

On shaky arms, Blaine lowered himself on top of Kurt, trying to muster the energy to move. After a few breaths, he slid down Kurt's body and slipped his lips over his cock, only having to slide his mouth around his cock a few times before Kurt came. Blaine kissed his way up Kurt's chest, visibly moving with his heavy breath. They shifted on the robe until Kurt was lying comfortably against Blaine.

"I'm sorry your expensive robe has been used so carelessly on the floor." Blaine chuckled as he ran lazy fingers through Kurt's hair.

"It was worth it." Kurt kissed Blaine's chest. "What are we going to do about Puck?"

"What do you mean?" Blaine let his eyes drift shut as Kurt's fingers drew shapes on his stomach.

"Well, we're both obviously attracted to him, he kissed both of us so something is going on in that head of his, though since it's Puck, we may never understand."

Blaine sighed. "I don't want to stop being friends with him."

"I never thought I'd feel this way, but I don't either. I actually like him."

Blaine felt Kurt hesitate. "Go ahead. Spit it out."

"Um…it's not orthodox, but…what do you think about some kind of…arrangement."

"Arrangement?"

"We're both into him, he's obviously into us on some level, so…"

"Like, a threesome?" Blaine exclaimed.

"More than that, because it wouldn't be just sex. But this all depends on what Puck thinks and he may not even want anything except friends, though that doesn't explain the kissing, but — "

"Rambling," Blaine said, kissing the side of Kurt's head. "Is Puck even into guys?"

"Obviously he's not a straight zero on the Kinsey scale."

"I think Puck is lonely."

"I think he is, too."

"I'm willing to try it, as long as you are."

"Are we insane? Has New York just fucked up our brains?"

Blaine shrugged. "Who knows? I'm just kind of stumbling along at this point, and as long as you're stumbling with me, I don't care what happens."

---

Blaine and Kurt had discussed possible ways of bringing their idea up to Puck, but each one seemed as crazy and uncomfortable as the previous. So, they decided to go with the direct approach. If everything went to hell and he thought they were freaks, what would they lose?

They were in the garage, and had been working on the car again, but they were taking a dinner break. Puck and Blaine were eating fast food hamburgers, but Kurt refused to put that junk in his body and got a salad instead. They were quietly eating, the radio a soft hum in the background. Kurt glanced at Blaine pointedly and nodded towards Puck, his eyes wide, urging him.

"Um, Puck?" Blaine started awkwardly. Puck, munching on his hamburger, looked at him. "We know. That you kissed us both." Puck swallowed, his expression unreadable.

"And?"

Blaine looked at Kurt, unsure what to say next. He honestly had expected Puck to say more than that. Kurt said, "Look, we're not going to beat around the bush. We like you, you obviously like us enough to kiss us separately, so…"

"So, we wondered if you wanted to…" Blaine continued.

"Are you two suggesting a threesome?" Puck asked, face shocked.

"Well…" Blaine started, but then Kurt cut in.

"Kinda. But not just a sex thing, though that's definitely on the table." Kurt blushed a deep red, and Blaine found it endearing.

"I don't follow." Puck shook his head.

"Look. We don't know what in the hell is going on in that head of yours — "

"And we don't really want to find too much out, honestly," Kurt interrupted.

"But, we're offering you some sort of arrangement with us."

"So, the two of you, poster children for Super Gay Monogamy of the Month, want to have sex with me?" Puck asked, brow creased.

"Among other things, yes," Blaine said.

"Do I have to be monogamous or binogamous?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned to Blaine. "This is his question?" He shook his head, turning his attention back to Puck. "We can iron out the details later, but do you really think we expect you to be monogamous?"

Puck opened his mouth, then closed it again. Blaine stood up, Kurt following. "We're going to go home, change clothes, get cleaned up a bit, give you time to think it over. We'll come back in an hour or so."

Kurt and Blaine left, Puck still sitting in shock on the stool.

---

Blaine knocked on the front door and opened it slowly. "Puck? We're back." They walked inside nervously. Neither really knew what to do, say, or even wear (as Kurt agonized over for a bit). They walked from the hall into the living room, and saw Puck sitting up straight on the couch, the only light coming from about ten scented candles burning around the room.

Blaine started to say something, but Kurt burst out laughing. Blaine looked at him in confusion, then at Puck. "What?"

Kurt pointed to Puck. "This…this is how you decide to answer us?" A fresh wave of laughter washed over him. "I'm guessing your answer is yes?"

"I thought scented candles were gay enough." He looked embarrassed. "I thought you'd like them."

Blaine stared at him in disbelief and Kurt crossed the room, dropping beside him on the couch. "You're absolutely ridiculous, you know that?" Kurt wiped his eyes. "Scented candles are nice, yes, with a bubble bath on occasion, but really unnecessary." He patted Puck on the shoulder. "But it's super cute you tried."

"I wasted a trip to the Family Dollar. And ten bucks!"

Blaine sat on the coffee table in front of them. "So…you're in?"

"Here's the deal. I don't know what is happening to me. One day, I'm banging soccer moms in their pool houses, the next I'm kissing you two. I guess it makes sense since you two are the only two people I haven't kissed in Lima…that want to kiss a guy. And I'm pretty sure I've slept with a few lesbians." Kurt coughed to cover a laugh while Blaine tried to keep his face serious. "I don't do emotional stuff, I'm not moving to New York, and I'm not going to stop having sex with women."

"That's fine," Blaine said.

"So, what does this make us?" Puck asked.

"Hell if we know," Kurt answered.

"I thought y'all were the authorities on everything gay and stuff."

"We're trying to figure this out just like you. It's not like we go around having threesomes with people."

"How was I supposed to know that?" Puck said. "This whole set up sounds a lot more complicated than the threesomes I've had in the past."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Kurt turned to Puck. "I'm tired of talking. Are you okay with this?" Puck nodded. "Good." Kurt leaned forward and kissed Puck, rather aggressively Blaine noted. He watched, getting embarrassingly turned on just from watching them kiss. Blaine moaned, and Kurt pulled away long enough to grab his shirt and pull him forward, kissing him quickly then leaning back as Blaine took over kissing Puck.

Kissing Puck was a completely different experience this time. He wasn't angsting, he wasn't drunk, and Kurt was there watching him (which apparently really turned him on, nice to know). He was free of his previous restraints, and so he kissed Puck with enthusiasm he held back before. He shifted forward, crawling into his lap and straddling him. Without hesitation, Puck quickly removed Blaine's shirt, and he just stared in open admiration. "I can't believe you did that so quickly. You were like a ninja."

"Lots of practice," Puck said, pulling off his own shirt before he reclaimed Blaine's mouth. Blaine was surprised when he felt Puck's erection against his leg, and it excited him more than he imagined. Reluctantly, he climbed off Puck's lap and dropped to his knees. Puck's eyes went wide.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Blaine asked. Puck nodded, then Blaine looked at Kurt, who was rubbing his own hard cock through his pants. He nodded and Blaine began unzipping Puck's jeans. Fuck, Blaine thought, he had on no underwear.

"Always prepared, bro." Puck grinned and slid his hand into Blaine's hair. Quickly, Blaine pulled Puck's jeans down to his knees, then left them. It was odd, looking at another man's cock that wasn't Kurt's (or porn), weird seeing it, touching it, smelling it, and as he lowered his lips over the head, weird tasting it. Blaine almost felt like a virgin, not knowing exactly what to do. He hadn't thought about the logistics of giving a blowjob in so long. He knew what Kurt liked, could switch it up to make it exciting, but he was nervous. What if Puck didn't like what he did? What if he wasn't any good at it in Puck's mind? Puck's hand insistently pushing his head down, his soft groans, momentarily erased any doubt in Blaine's mind.

Unexpectedly, he felt Kurt's arms wrap around him, hands unbuckling his pants. Fuck, this was really happening. Blaine pulled his mouth away from Puck's cock long enough to lift his legs so Kurt could take them off, Puck taking the opportunity to kick away his own jeans. He lifted his eyes and saw Puck's face, unguarded and full of desire, and Blaine decided this had been their best idea ever.

As he slid his mouth along Puck's shaft, Kurt slid two slick fingers inside him, then thrust inside with his cock. He gasped around Puck's cock, momentarily pausing as Kurt gripped his hips and fucked him.

"Fucking mother of fuck," Puck exclaimed from above. Blaine looked up, and Puck was staring hungrily at them. Kurt reached out and grabbed Puck's shoulder, pulling him closer until their lips met. Blaine forgot about everything except Kurt's cock inside him and the two men kissing above him. He felt Puck push on his head, but instead of looking away, he slid his fingers around the shaft. Then, way too soon, Kurt broke the kiss and pulled out of Blaine.

"Switch with me," he said, already on his knees. Blaine eagerly complied, and Puck just stared in amazement. Blaine thought he may be just a bit overwhelmed, and that pleased him greatly. Kurt settled himself between Puck's knees, wasting no time wrapping those lips around Puck's hard cock. Blaine almost came just from watching, but instead, hurriedly covered his cock with lube and thrust inside Kurt. He liked this vantage point because he could watch Puck and watch Kurt, and as much as he liked sucking Puck's cock, he preferred watching the pleasure Kurt got out of sucking it. He set up a steady rhythm, gripping Kurt's hips and more concerned with the two of them than his own pleasure.

He was impressed by how long Puck lasted, especially with Kurt's talented mouth working on him. But soon, Kurt was fisting Puck's cock and watching as he came over his hand. Puck sat there, blissful grin on his face, as Kurt turned around to kiss Blaine. Puck then leaned forward, and reached underneath Kurt's body. His face turned red, and he didn't look at them when he said, "I want to, I just am not sure how.."

Blaine understood. He stood up, sat on the couch, and facing away from him, Kurt slowly lowered himself back onto Blaine's cock. Blaine wasn't sure how he didn't come right then, because it had been too long since they'd fucked like that, but he held on, reveling in the feel of Kurt sliding up and down on his lap. Puck got on his knees in front of Kurt, wrapped an unsure hand around Kurt's cock, then lowered his mouth. Blaine craned around Kurt, watching as Puck's head bobbed up and down, then he started kissing his way across Kurt's shoulders and neck. He felt Kurt tense around him and shudder, his movements erratic. Blaine couldn't hold back anymore, and he gripped Kurt's hips tightly, holding him tight against him as he came.

They all lay there a moment, and then Kurt shifted as he stretched out on the couch, pulling Blaine along with him. Puck remained in the floor, looking at them happily.

"Well?" Kurt asked, reaching forward and trailing a finger down his cheek.

"Dude." Puck shook his head. "I have no words."

"Puck speechless, who knew?"

"I do have one question, though. Why did you two get the whole shebang while I only got a blowjob?"

Kurt and Blaine laughed. "One step at a time," Blaine explained. "There's still much to expose you to."

"I'm cancelling all my appointments tomorrow then."

Kurt twisted his head around to look at Blaine. "I have a feeling this is going to be a long night."

Blaine squeezed Kurt tighter and closed his eyes. This was the last thing he expected when they made the decision to spend the summer in Ohio. He had hoped that he would figure out a way to get out of his funk, but he had found much more. He wasn't sure where this was leading, or how it would even work when they went back to New York. But right there, lying naked with Kurt and Puck in Puck's living room, he was happy. Nothing else mattered, not getting a part, not his anxiety about his career — nothing but the three of them. He knew he would get a part soon, that things would fall into place, but until then, he had Kurt and Puck, and he realized that mattered more than any stupid part in a play.