Blaine breathes in. The air around him is crisp. Clean.

The Pumpkin Spice Latte lingers on his tongue; the smell finds its way up to him, sparking the warmth and excitement of fall in his veins.

Beside him, Kurt flips a page in Vogue. He's systematically switching his coffee from palm to palm as he stabs at certain articles of clothing, trying desperately to make Blaine understand that this shirt looks completely ridiculous, Blaine, look at the color! It looks like a watermelon Jolly Rancher mated with a puke flavored Bertie Bots Bean.

Blaine isn't really listening to his words. He's listening to the way Kurt's voice jumps in octaves when he gets excited, the way he hums quietly when he finds something that would look so amazing on me, I swear.

He reaches out a hand and his fingers smooth over the surface of the countertenor's hand.

The soft gesture makes his eyes flick upward from the magazine.

Blaine swears the one day, Kurt's eyes will kill him; despite how many times they land on him daily, they still take his breath away.

He moves his hand away.

"Just because we're back on friendly terms doesn't mean you can hold my hand," comes the sharp reprimand.

His eyes, stony, drop back to the pages in front of him.

Blaine sets his coffee down on the table in front of him and reaches over to close the magazine.

Kurt looks scandalized.

"Friendly terms?"

The countertenor cocks an eyebrow. "Yes, friendly terms. Did you have a different idiom for us in mind?"

"How about boyfriends? Since, you know, I made it perfectly clear that I'm desperately in love with you last night."

"You made it perfectly clear that you were in lust with me, B-"

Blaine crosses his arms over his chest. "Kurt Hummel, you really are thick, aren't you?"

"I resent that."

"Oh, please."

"If we're just going to spend the day arguing again, I think I'll go work on the monstrous stack of home-"

"Kurt." There's a little waver in his voice as Kurt's name leaves his lips. The countertenor hears it; his eyes narrow, his chin jerking a little to the left. "Would you just shut up and listen for once?"

"I love you. I love you. I love you. Okay? I love that stupid look on your face right now; it's that one you make when you're skeptical and angry mixed together. I know you don't believe me, Kurt, because now your cheeks are pink and, look, one of your fists is curled up." He reaches over and smoothes the countertenor's fingers out, spreading them across the cover of the magazine. "But I do. I love that idiotic stubbornness in you. I love that you know me so well that you can't let yourself believe me…I hate that too, though, because I want you to believe me more than anything right now. I'm not one for corny, Kurt, but this words won't stop falling out of my mouth right now."

He pauses. Kurt's not looking at him anymore; his beautiful eyes are locked onto his shoes.

"Listen, Kurt Hummel. I'm in love with you, and there's nothing you can say or do right now to change that. End of story, complete, period. "

There's a moment of silence that seems to stretch. The people around them chat onward, oblivious of the incredible pounding of Blaine's heart as Kurt's eyes flicker up to meet his again. They aren't wet, or cold, or conveying any emotion at all. They're just staring, boring into him.

Waiting.

So Blaine brushes his fingertips down the back of Kurt's neck, thumb running against his jaw, reveling in the softness of his skin, and takes his bottom lip slowly between his own.

Kurt sighs; it ghosts against the panes of Blaine's face. He feels Kurt's lips move against his, feels him clutch the collar of his shirt and slip a hand through his curly hair.

His skin erupts with goosebumps.

When he pulls away, he presses the softest of kisses onto Kurt's temple. He feels Kurt's pulse, racing, under his index finger.

They look at each other. Just look, eyes running each over each other's faces, and Kurt finds something there that he hadn't before. Something that makes the corner of his mouth lift and trace a hand down the side of Blaine's face, grabbing him forcefully by the jaw and forcing him to look, hard, into his eyes.

Not that Blaine was complaining.

"You're crazy."

His heart jumps into his throat.

"And corny."

He tries to look away, but Kurt jerks his chin back up.

"And you have absolutely no good reasons for loving me."

He opens his mouth to argue, but Kurt shushes him with one long fingers.

"But I can't help loving you anymore than you can help singing those stupid Disney songs."

Blaine grins. "That's probably the most romantic thing you've ever said, Kurt Hummel."