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In an unexpected turn of events, Blaine was manning the kissing booth.
It was possible he’d lost a bet. But he sat behind the counter looking completely at ease among the chapstick tubes and the breathmints and the stupid little privacy curtain. A tacky pink sign decorated with glitter hearts read, PUCKER UP TO SUPPORT MUSIC NITE. It was a dollar for a cheek kiss, five for a “friendly peck,” and ten for “ten seconds in heaven.”
Blaine was an equal opportunity kisser and the booth was quickly becoming a main attraction of the club fair. Kurt found it inexplicably embarrassing, like finding out an indie artist you kept to yourself had gone mainstream.
“It’s really weird that you’re not lining up with the rest of them,” said Santana. “I thought you’d be salivating at the chance to plant one on his doe-eyed oblivious face.”
Kurt bristled. “You make me sound like such a pervert.”
“Well, aren’t you? I bet you couldn’t follow the rules if you were paid to.” At Kurt’s pointed look she said, “What, you think admin would let this happen unchecked? There’s no touching, no tongue, and no going past ten seconds. They have a timer and everything. Literal buzzkill.”
“That’s not what I meant. I can be normal about kissing Blaine,” Kurt said, offended. “I am so normal about kissing Blaine. I just - don’t want to.”
Santana looked unconvinced. “Because you’re incapable of being normal about it.”
“No. Because - because…” Kurt had the feeling that everything he said was playing into Santana’s hands. Santana was about to say something smug but he cut her off. “Shut it. Give me ten dollars and if you’re right I’ll pay you back twenty.”
“Thirty.”
“Twenty five.”
Santana pouted. “Fine.” She fished out a ten dollar bill from an implausible pocket in her skintight dress and did the annoying thing where she held it out to Kurt but hung onto it until Kurt snatched it from her. “Stay safe,” she yelled obnoxiously after him.
So Kurt found himself lining up behind a guy from his music theory class and a group of girls he recognized from Blaine’s social circle. He told himself he could always step out of line and make off with the money but he knew he wouldn’t.
Actually, Kurt let himself be so easily convinced because he felt that one kiss, surrounded by people he knew in passing and constricted by the bureaucracy of a fundraiser, would cure him of romantic delusions. Kurt had too much experience with unrequited love to make the same mistake again, and for all Blaine smiled at him and opened doors for him he was like that with everyone. So it wasn’t a crush. Just an illusion Kurt meant to break.
Kurt was almost at the front of the line when Blaine saw him and gave him a quick blinding smile. Then Blaine turned to take the ten dollar bill from the music theory guy. Was it the same smile he’d given Kurt? There was no time to wonder. Kurt watched as Blaine said something that made the guy give a flustered little nod and then Blaine kissed him. It looked slightly awkward, over the counter, otherwise not touching. Then it was over. Nod, smile, parting wave, not even a trace of a blush on Blaine’s face.
Kurt had signed up to be given the same charity kiss, the same nod, smile, wave. He stepped up to the counter.
“Kurt, hey! Are you here to support the music festival or did you come to see me?” Blaine grinned shamelessly.
It was a joke. He was joking. Kurt retorted, “Are you here to support the music festival or did you lose a bet?”
“Well, Sam was originally supposed to do it, but he has mono, so…” Blaine shrugged, slipping back on script. He gestured at the pink sign. “You have the choice of - “
Kurt slid the ten dollar bill across the counter. There was nothing he felt he could say.
Blaine glanced at it, then at him. There was something oddly heavy in his gaze before it smoothed into what Kurt could only call customer service. He went over the rules while Kurt thought of Sam, and Finn, and the music theory guy, and how there were no stakes in this, no destination.
“Do you want a breathmint?”
Kurt shook his head.
“Okay. Are you ready?”
Kurt was lost for words. What was this, a flu shot?
Blaine caught Kurt’s look of disdain and genuine humor slipped through the protocol. There he was, amused, beautiful. He leaned in, inches away from Kurt’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered.
Kurt stood paralyzed, trying desperately not to let on that his heart was in his throat, waiting, unwilling to want. Then they were kissing.
It was the most anxiety Kurt had ever felt kissing someone. Usually it was easy. It was something to do well, to make good. This wasn’t like that at all.
Blaine’s lips were soft from chapstick. He kissed closemouthed, but so tenderly it felt inappropriate, and he trembled in a way that couldn’t be construed as casual. Kurt couldn’t help himself and broke the hands-off rule to put his hands on Blaine’s shoulders, and Blaine relaxed into the kiss so sweetly with just that one touch it made Kurt’s head spin.
There was no way it was like this for anyone else. The crush, or whatever, that Kurt didn’t want to feel, or only felt occasionally, became undeniable like this, breath caught painfully between them, a sweetness so sharp it stung.
The timer went off. Ten seconds. Kurt let go of Blaine and stepped back, feeling like all the blood in his hands had rushed to his face. He was aware of every point of contact on his skin, the way his clothes rested on him, and wanted so badly to touch Blaine on the other side of the counter that it felt like he’d develop telekinesis willing it to happen.
Through the white noise of the catcalls, Kurt managed to say, “That wasn’t a charity kiss.”
“No,” Blaine admitted. “It wasn’t.” He was dazed and flushed down his neck. Probably everyone was staring. “You should take your money back. I don’t want it.”
“It’s Santana’s money.” Kurt knew he was being awful but clung to it as a way out. “She convinced me - ” He couldn’t say it.
“Don’t try to tell me that meant nothing,” Blaine said, but he said it uncertainly, like he was asking.
It was terrifying, what that did to Kurt. He opened his mouth to say those exact words, “it meant nothing,” but his gaze caught on how Blaine was running his tongue over his lips like he wanted another taste. A gut-punch of longing stole his breath. Kurt leaned in, heart pounding, feeling half crazed, and said in Blaine’s ear, “If I told you to abandon your post right now, would you do it?”
Blaine was nodding before Kurt was even done talking. He flipped the sign to CLOSED, pulled Kurt around to his side of the counter, and slid the privacy curtain shut in front.
Kurt saw what he meant to do. “You’re crazy,” he said, laughing, helpless, but let Blaine take him by the hand as they made a run for it through the back of the booth.
Then they were outside. It was a blazing sun-soaked afternoon and Blaine let Kurt push him against the wall in the middle of the hall and kiss him and kiss him until they ran out of breath, and if there was a destination Kurt felt with stunning certainty they had arrived.