I ought to be working on my WIP but Klaine demanded to be writted. Le sigh. Oh well, I hope you enjoy, in spite of the numerous High School Musical references.

Disclaimer: Don't own Glee or High School Musical

Kurt was one of the many people who would say that they loathed High School Musical, except that would mean admitting that they'd actually watched it in the first place. Of course he'd watched it – there wasn't a teenager alive who could possibly avoid it, he reasoned – and like everyone else, he found it to be ridiculous, stupid, saccharine, insulting to adolescent audiences everywhere, and above all, unrealistic.

The fact that he'd been called Ryan by at least five different people in the last year alone did not help to foster any fondness for the franchise.

Therefore, when Can I Have This Dance cropped up on his random shuffle one day while Rachel was in his room for one of her spontaneous invasions, it was truly mortifying. Her wide-eyed look of surprise only made him feel worse.

"Don't say a word," he grumbled, stomping over to his laptop. Why was that song even on this playlist? It was a public playlist, he surely had more foresight than that?

But Rachel only squealed and clapped her hands delightedly. "I love this song! It's yet another unlikely thing we have in common, Kurt."

"Wonderful," he sighed, depressingly unsurprised. "I suppose this, at least, explains many of your unrealistic preconceptions about your relationship with Finn. That whole 'pretty little ingénue/ jock with a heart of gold' thing."

Her smile slipped and he felt a bit mean, bringing up the The Taboo Topic as a snippy outlet for his own frustrated embarrassment, but she only smoothed her skirt out and said, "Well, I did plan on singing this with Finn at one point, possibly on my birthday or some other occasion where he would feel obliged to not refuse, but." She shrugged. "You're right, it is a silly, clichéd song. And the vocals are barely mediocre."

Kurt sighed. Acting as an emotional buffer between her and Finn was becoming tiring, not least because he didn't know who to feel more sorry for in this little cycle of destructive melodrama that they had gotten themselves involved in, and his sympathy was fairly limited to begin with. But right now it was Rachel who was here, looking mournful and depressed after driving two hours to Westerville and sneaking into his dorm room (girls were technically forbidden from their rooms, even on the weekends and even for boys who had no interest in them whatsoever), because apparently she was so isolated from the rest of New Directions that he of all people was better company.

And besides, he sort of looked forward to these visits. When he couldn't get home on the weekends due to too much schoolwork, it was nice to have a piece of his old life come to him, and there was an underlying vindictive satisfaction about rebelling against Dalton's rules. So he rolled his eyes, started the song again, and gestured at Rachel impatiently. Of course she'd want Gabriella's part, even if he sounded nothing like Troy Bolton the Orange. Ah well, sacrifices.

Rachel's face broke into a wide, grateful smile, and she eagerly leapt at his invitation. "Take my hand, take a breath; pull me close and take one step . . ."

He quickly took the lead, spinning her around lightly around the room, combining the traditional waltz with some silly freestyle choreography that was reminiscent of the McKinley glee club's spontaneous jam sessions. They swept across the room in wide, exaggerated steps, past the window and Pavarotti's cage, laughing through the lyrics. He swept her off her feet dramatically, prompting a high-pitched giggle, and deposited her onto the bed before jumping up himself, where they clumsily tried to keep their footing on the soft mattress and just ended up jumping around like children at a slumber party. It was the most fun he'd had in weeks.

The song came to a close and they collapsed on the bed, still laughing and panting with exertion. Kurt was about to make some affectionate joke about how he might not be Finn Hudson but surely he was more masculine than Troy Bolton . . . however, he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind him.

Freezing, he sat up quickly and looked over at the doorway, expecting their floor supervisor or a senior, but it was just Blaine, leaning in the doorway and looking highly amused.

Kurt relaxed minutely, but not much; Blaine might like him more than the other Warblers (if not as much as Kurt fantasized about), but he wasn't likely to be impressed with Kurt breaking the rules and letting a girl infiltrate the Academy – especially this girl, who was also the leader of New Directions. Also, the current love of his life had just seen him singing and dancing to High School Musical, so there was more than one reason why Kurt suddenly wished the mattress would come to life and eat him right now.

"Um. Blaine. Hi," he stuttered, wondering if shielding Rachel from view would make Blaine forget that she was there. The curious noise she made did not help. "This, um, I can explain . . ."

But Blaine, still grinning, only walked over to the laptop and pressed a few keys. Then he strode over to the bed and addressed Rachel with, "Mind if I cut in?"

Her smile reappeared and she nodded rapidly, while Kurt was still stuck on dazed and confused. Then Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him upright, opening his mouth to sing Troy's first line of the reprise, "Take my hand, I'll take the lead; every turn will be safe with me."

"Oh my God," Kurt muttered, even as his heart began to do a Cheerios routine. "Seriously? You too?"

"Hey, High School Musical is a staple of our childhood," Blaine replied, putting one hand on his waist, and clasping the other with Kurt's. Automatically, Kurt's hand rested on the other boy's shoulder, his eyes locked unwaveringly on Blaine's. As they began to dance, he held up his end of the duet, taking Gabriella's part this time. They stepped easily into the waltz, spinning in slow, languid circles around the darkening room, singing along to the lyrics as the first few drops of rain begin to fall outside.

The last (and only) time Kurt had properly danced with a boy, it had been with Finn at their parents' wedding, and it had been pretty awesome. But it was nothing like this. He and Blaine fit closely together, like puzzle pieces that had been left outside the box; he felt removed from their surroundings, from Rachel, and the pretty gilded cage of Dalton Academy, felt lost in their own little world, within the circle of their joined bodies. Kurt's perception narrowed down to this moment; it was just the music, their harmony of their voices drowning out Troy and Gabriella's pitchy crooning, the smooth warmth of Blaine's movement, his eyes, his ridiculous eyebrows, and the tender lift to his lips as he swept Kurt past the rain-spattered window.

The reprise was shorter than the main song, and came to an end in less time. As the notes dwindled, and their voices faded out, Kurt felt a subtle shift in Blaine's posture as his confident dance steps came to a halt and something vulnerable entered his expression. They were standing very close, panting lightly from adrenaline, and their grips on one another tightened almost imperceptibly. Something will destroy this moment, Kurt thought vaguely, even as his gaze zeroed in on Blaine's lips. Rachel will start criticizing my harmonies, or someone else will barge in, or Blaine will suddenly come to his senses and retreat . . .

Except no one interrupted, and Blaine wasn't going anywhere. In fact, he was moving closer and before Kurt knew it, their lips were pressed together. It was hot, and wet, and slightly awkward, but they slowly fit into the rhythm of their first kiss, and if a part of Kurt felt that this monumental point in his life really ought to have a better soundtrack, well, he wasn't going to complain about it right now.

Much too soon, Blaine pulled away, and the confident mentor was gone and had been replaced by a wild-eyed, panting boy who stammered out, "I'm sorry, is this okay? I don't . . . I didn't want to force it on you but . . . are you okay?"

What a stupid question to ask. Rather than voice this thought, Kurt pulled Blaine back in for another kiss and fell in love all over again with the desperate way Blaine's hands curled into the back of his shirt, and the way he had to tilt his head up slightly to meet Kurt's lips.

Eventually, he remembered that they weren't actually alone in the room and that the best moment of his life thus far had been witnessed by Rachel Berry of all people. But when he reluctantly broke off the kiss and turned around to ask if she could maybe see herself out, the bed was void of diva, as was the rest of the room. "She must have taken the hint and left," he whispered against Blaine's cheek. "Something else to thank her for, next time I talk to her."

"Hmm," Blaine murmured in agreement. Then he froze suddenly. "There are people outside."

Frowning, Kurt listened and realized that he could indeed hear voices. One of them was unmistakably Rachel's. The other . . . Oh crap.

"I remember now," Blaine said, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. "I was avoiding Wes earlier, before coming here. Apparently that was predictable."

Sighing, Kurt pulled away. "I should escort Rachel out before she manages to get me expelled."

"That would be a shame," Blaine agreed. Then he cleared his throat. "So, you're sure you're all right with . . ?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine. Stop it. I've been in lov- I mean. I've wanted this for a while now."

Blaine's slow grin was like the sun coming out, impossibly bright and goofy. Suddenly embarrassed, Kurt smoothed his hair down and tried to look a little more composed before striding over to the door.

". . . And while your harmonizing is quite fantastic, allow me to dispense a little friendly tip among fellow show choir leaders: spinning and clicking is not choreographically sound, no matter how enthusiastic your facial expressions are."

"Miss, please step aside." Wes sounded physically pained, which was a natural reaction to Rachel Berry. Kurt could hardly blame him.

"I'm afraid Kurt is incapacitated at the moment, and can't see visitors right now."

"And by incapacitated, you mean 'making out with Blaine,'" Wes said flatly.

"I'm glad you're so understanding!" Kurt allowed his head to hit the door once, before opening it to face the music. He found Rachel standing squarely in front of it, hands planted on her hips, clearly prepared to let nothing past, be it a Warbler or a bulldozer. Wes, as expected, looked exasperated and somewhat at a loss. However, he managed a raised eyebrow at Kurt, who tried to look innocent.

"If it helps, I don't actively condone her infiltration," he said. "I've tried setting traps, but she gets passed them every time. I'm at my wit's end, seriously."

Rachel looked torn between offense and amusement. Wes just closed his eyes. "I'll overlook it, just this once, so long as she is gone within the next thirty seconds."

Rachel sniffed. "I was just leaving, as a matter of fact." She then turned to Kurt, flung her arms around his middle, and squeezed him so hard that his feet left the ground. "Thankyou," she whispered.

"And you," he wheezed, returning her smile. "Take it easy, alright?"

She nodded, called out, "Bye Blaine! Lovely to see you again, and be safe with Kurt!" then (ignoring Kurt's look of horror) nodded at Wes. "Good luck to you at Regionals. I'm sure your loss will be by a small and respectable margin, and please remember what I said about the dangers of conformity . . . some people just belong in the spotlight!" she shot another brilliant smile at Kurt, then flounced away down the hall.

Both Wes and Kurt stared bemusedly after her for a long moment, then Wes shook his head sharply. "Blaine, get out here please."

After a moment, Blaine appeared over Kurt's shoulder, an innocent smile on his face. "Evening, Wes. What can I do for you?"

The council leader gave the pair a long, narrow look. Then he sighed and said, "Never mind. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Ok, good night!" he tried to subtly drag Kurt back into the room, but before they could disappear, Wes called Kurt back.

"Look," he said. "I know she is just a friend and that you miss your friends from your old school, but please don't make a habit out of bringing her here. If the other guys get wind of it then they will be sneaking girls in through the air vents, and for less innocent purposes than High School Musical." He gave Kurt a meaningful look, and Kurt once again blushed in slight embarrassment. "Are we clear on that?"

"Certainly," Kurt said.

"Also, curfew is in an hour. Just so you remember."

"Of course."

Wes rolled his eyes and took off down the hall

Sighing with relief, Kurt closed the door. Immediately he was engulfed by Blaine's hug.

"You know," Blaine said thoughtfully. "I think Wes may start taking the competition a little more seriously now. It takes a lot to freak him out, but Rachel may have succeeded."

"Rachel does have that effect," Kurt acknowledged, sliding his arms around Blaine easily.

"Also, why do I get the feeling she was insulting me before? With the spinning and clicking and facial expressions stuff?"

"It's possible," he said, keeping his thoughts on the matter to himself. The last thing he wanted right now was to get into a critical assessment of their performance. "It's possible that I may like Rachel Berry, but only when I see her once a week."

Blaine's laugh vibrated along his chest. "Sure, the way you only like High School Musical when it leads to making out."

Kurt hid his face in Blaine's shoulder. "Shut up."

"Ok, but just one more thing?"

"What?"

"I love you too."

Thanks for reading :) Hope you enjoyed this bit of teeth-rotting fluff.