Blaine hums under his breath as he skips up the stairs to Kurt's loft, his gym bag banging against his hip with his movements. He feels loose and tired in a good way, like he always does when he's been boxing, and the thin undershirt he's wearing underneath his other clothes is still sweaty and clinging to his skin. He needs some food and a shower, not necessarily in that order, and he can't help but grin when he wonders if he could persuade Kurt to share the shower with him. They do have time for something like that – Blaine fed Perry right before he left for the gym, so she should be alright even if they spent some more time at Kurt's loft tonight.

His humming gets a little louder when he reaches the top floor, and he belatedly realizes that he's actually humming Silly Love Songs, practically mouthing the words, and god, you'd think he would get tired of being so in love at some point, but obviously that's not happening any time soon. Or ever. It's such a welcome contrast to his work life, to crimes and having to see the worst parts of people almost every day, that he's definitely not letting go of this feeling.

He slows to a stop outside the door to Kurt's apartment, his humming halting when he notices that the door is ajar and he can hear shouting voices coming from inside. Voices in plural. Two of them. Kurt and someone else, a woman whose voice Blaine doesn't think he recognizes, and his hand automatically reaches for the holster he's not wearing right now.

"– you just have to meddle in other people's business!" Kurt's voice yells, sounding upset and annoyed.

"She misses you!" the woman shouts back in a loud, piercing voice. "She keeps asking me about you, and I have no clue what to tell her because I'm not going to lie to her but I also don't know what you would want me to say to her, and hell, Kurt, she's my friend too!"

Blaine lowers his hand. This doesn't sound like Kurt is in danger or like it's something that requires the presence of an FBI agent. He doesn't want to eavesdrop on Kurt's private conversations, not when there is still such a careful line between the things Kurt will tell him and the things he won't talk about, so Blaine decides to just back away. Maybe he could take a walk around the block before he texts Kurt and lets him know that he's on his way.

Right when he is about to turn around and head back down the stairs he hears footsteps from the loft, coming towards the door, and Kurt's voice saying, "Oh my god, I can't believe you just waltzed in here like that and you even left the door open, what is wrong with –"

The rest of the sentence is cut off because at that moment Kurt pulls the door all the way open, stopping in his tracks when he notices Blaine standing on the landing, caught with his other foot on the uppermost step. Blaine looks at Kurt over his shoulder, and Kurt stares back at him, his whole body still and tense until something seems to snap inside of him and he blinks his eyes a few times.

"Blaine," he breathes out. "What..."

"Sorry – I didn't mean to interrupt anything," Blaine says quickly. He reaches out across the landing and squeezes Kurt's wrist with a reassuring smile. "I can go and come back later if..."

"Did you say Blaine?" the woman's voice comes from the apartment. Blaine can hear the sound of heels clicking against the floor, and then there's a dark-haired woman standing behind Kurt, looking Blaine up and down, her eyes calculating and a little curious. "Well well well, you're certainly not what I imagined you to be, Mr. Suit," she comments, her lips turning into a grin.

Blaine leans away in surprise, frowning at the woman. "Thanks? I'm... not really sure if that was a compliment or not."

"When it comes to her, probably not," Kurt sighs, dragging his hand over the back of his neck. He seems edgier than Blaine has ever seen him before, an annoyed fire burning in his eyes. "Blaine, this is... This is Santana. She's an old friend. Of sorts."

"Santana Lopez, charmed," Santana practically purrs, pushing Kurt aside and extending her hand to Blaine through the doorway. "And you're Blaine Anderson, Lady Hummel's new federal boyfriend."

Blaine blinks at her, but his manners make him take her hand and shake it anyways. She has long nails that look almost a bit dangerous, and Blaine has spent enough time around criminals to realize that Santana probably is one. Or at least has been one at some point in her life.

"Um. It's nice to meet you?" he says carefully, glancing at Kurt from the corner of his eye.

"She was just leaving," Kurt interrupts, grabbing Blaine's arm and pulling him inside the loft as he pushes Santana out of the door at the same time. Blaine stumbles in, his gym bag dropping from his shoulder onto the floor with a loud thud.

"Kurt, you didn't tell me your agent friend was this short," Santana laughs, not even resisting as Kurt pushes her shoulders until she's standing on the landing.

"Just... Go, San. Please." Kurt sounds tired all of a sudden, and both Blaine and Santana stop. Blaine knows that tone of voice, remembers it from months and months ago from that day when he found Kurt Hummel in an empty apartment and all he wanted to do was to reach out and show some gesture of kindness. Things are different now, they are different, so this time he does reach out, resting his fingertips tentatively on the small of Kurt's back, out of Santana's line of sight.

Kurt leans into the touch, the muscles on his back relaxing slightly.

"Okay," Santana acquiesces. Her eyes soften as she looks between Blaine and Kurt, looking almost... satisfied, like she's seeing something she approves of. "Will you at least consider talking to Berry?" she tags on, her voice hardening again.

Kurt sighs, leaning more into Blaine's touch, but eventually he does nod. When he speaks, his voice sounds confident again, the way Blaine is used to hearing it. "I'll think about it. Just to keep her out of your hair, I suppose."

"Gee, thanks, Hummel." Santana smirks. "I'll see you around. It was nice meeting you, Suit," she adds, giving Blaine a salute before she turns around and saunters down the stairs.

Kurt closes the door quietly behind her and turns around. He stares at Blaine for a moment, his eyes looking somewhere far away until they seem to focus, and then his arms are around Blaine, his hands grabbing the back of his coat and squeezing him tightly. Blaine instinctively wraps his own arms around Kurt, lifting his chin so he can hook it over Kurt's shoulder and stroking his hands calmly down Kurt's back, over his shoulder blades and all the way to the small of his back. Kurt exhales against him, the rest of the tension melting from his body.

"You're sweaty and you smell disgusting," he mumbles against Blaine's shoulder after a moment.

Blaine lets out a laugh, petting Kurt's back. "Sorry. The locker room at the gym was so packed that I just pulled on some more clothes and came here." He hesitates, softening his voice. "I hope I didn't interrupt –"

"No, no, she just..." Kurt lifts his head and huffs. "Santana has this habit of coming to visit me when I least expect it. You remember that time when I stepped outside my radius?" Blaine nods, confused. "She's the person I met back then."

Blaine startles, surprised by the honest admission. Kurt has been trusting him more and more every day, but there are still things in his past he doesn't talk about, things that make him shake his head if Blaine happens to bring them up, and usually people from his past are one of them. It's okay – Blaine loves him, secrets and all, and he knows that Kurt will tell him if and when he's ready – but this is the first time he's met someone from Kurt's life from before, before prison, before the empty apartment and the deal with the FBI. The first time Kurt hasn't shaken his head about something from before.

"Oh," Blaine says eventually, thinking it over. "So she's like family?"

Kurt laughs, sudden and unexpected. "Yeah, and family can be a real pain in the ass every now and then."

"Understatement of the century," Blaine agrees easily. "Do you... Do you want to talk about it, or...?"

Kurt looks away for a moment, frowning. "It's kind of a mess, but actually... Yeah, I do." He glances back at Blaine, a smile that doesn't seem so tense playing on his face. "It'd be good to talk about it with someone who isn't so involved. I mean, you are involved, because of me and us, but you're still not –"

"I get it." Blaine pecks Kurt's lips quickly before leaning away, secretly smiling at Kurt referring to them as us. "What if I'll go take that shower and we'll talk then? I do feel pretty gross."

Kurt wrinkles his nose. "Mmm, good idea. I'm having a hard time deciding whether to feel disgusted or turned on right now. Did you have fun boxing?"

"I did," Blaine says, stretching his shoulders a little. "It was like... therapy, I suppose? Trying to get all those never-ending copyright infringement cases out of my head."

"I know what you mean." Kurt gestures towards the large windows of the loft, and only now Blaine notices that there is an easel set out in front of one of the windows, pencils and paints scattered on the small table next to it. There's a painting drying on the easel, flowing lines of clothes suitable for the most extravagant party Blaine could ever imagine shining from the canvas, and the sketchbook placed on the stool in front of the easel seems to have several pages full of similar outfits.

"Can I take a look?" Blaine asks, his fingers already itching to flip through the sketchbook. He knows how gorgeous Kurt's drawings and paintings are – he has hidden practically all the sketches Kurt has left lying around Blaine's apartment or the office in the same wooden box that holds the birthday cards Kurt used to send him from prison, and sometimes when they've had a rough day at work and he hasn't been able to spend as much time with Kurt as they'd both like, he opens the box and goes through the sketches and cards and notes, letting them steal his breath away.

Kurt grins and pushes him towards the bathroom. "Go take that shower, Blaine," he teases, "or I'm going to change my mind about that talk."

---

When Blaine emerges from the shower, combing his fingers through his damp curls and wearing relaxed – and clean – clothes, he finds Kurt sitting cross-legged on the small couch in the living room, a case file spread open over his lap. Kurt's index finger is sliding absent-mindedly over the monitor around his left ankle, drawing patterns on its black plastic.

"Hey," Blaine says as flops down on the sofa next to Kurt, shuffling around until he's comfortable. Kurt looks up from the file and smiles. "You do know that you don't have to take the files home with you every evening?" Blaine asks.

"I know," Kurt says. He closes the file and puts it away, lifting his knees and turning around until he's facing Blaine on the couch and can slide his toes between Blaine's thigh and the seat cushion. "So."

"So," Blaine repeats. "Santana."

"I honestly don't even know where to begin," Kurt sighs, playing with his fingers, a nervous gesture Blaine is already familiar with. "I've known her since high school, and she's just..."

"Hey," Blaine interrupts when Kurt trails off. "I just want you to know that I'm... I'm not Agent Anderson right now, okay? So even if you forget the occasional 'allegedly' from your sentences, you or Santana are not going to get in trouble." He pauses, frowning. "Unless you've... Have either of you ever killed anyone or –"

"God no," Kurt rushes to say, shaking his head. "I mean, I sometimes wanted to kill her when she was being especially annoying, but..."

Blaine chuckles, resting his hand over Kurt's knee. "Alright. Then tell me whatever you want to tell."

Kurt leans back, staring at the ceiling and pursing his lips in thought. "Well, like I said, I met her in high school. She was a friend, and then when I moved to New York after high school she ended up as my second roommate, and when..." He stops and swallows, his fingers flexing in his lap. "When I started my life of crime," he continues, and Blaine knows he's leaving something out, but it's not his place to ask, not right now. "When I started my life of crime, I found out that she had been doing the same for some time already. She was the one who taught me how to pick pockets, actually," Kurt laughs. "We knew each other, so it was easy working with her, even if she never really cared about the bigger cons. She was happy with just, I don't know, getting by without going abroad or trying to forge the great masters or anything like that."

Blaine hums, squeezing Kurt's knee. "I had a feeling that she was a, erm, con-woman."

Kurt looks back down, his eyes a little wary as he searches Blaine's face. "She was. But she has a real job now, and she told me she doesn't do that anymore."

"I'm not going to arrest her, Kurt," Blaine assures him. "This is off the record. All of our personal conversations are off the record."

Kurt's eyes soften and he places his own hand over Blaine's for a moment. "I know, I know. I just... need the reassurance every now and then. Old habits and all that." He shrugs.

Blaine smiles. "So... Santana is your friend. What's the mess you were talking about then?"

"Ugh," Kurt groans, resting his cheek against the backrest of the couch and rolling his eyes. "She wants me to talk to this mutual friend of ours whom I haven't seen in years. And the last time I did see her, we didn't exactly part amicably."

"How so?" Blaine asks carefully, stroking Kurt's knee. Kurt is a private person, even around Blaine, which is no surprise considering his previous line of work. It's just a part of him, the way he can be incredibly open in certain areas of his life – with his clothes and his opinions, never afraid of expressing himself – and at the same time be very closed-off about others. But this, this is different; even if Blaine is trying to be as careful as possible, he can still see how the words are almost waiting to get out of Kurt's mouth, as if he has kept them locked inside of himself for far too long and now they're forcing their way out, right in front of Blaine.

"She..." Kurt frowns, looking down at his lap, his fingers moving restlessly. "She was going through a bit of rough time herself back then, but so was I, and... She obviously didn't approve of my new criminal lifestyle, and when she told me her opinion we argued and she said some things in the heat of the moment that –" He shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture. "Let's just say that I didn't take them too well. So I walked out and never looked back." He takes a deep breath, still not meeting Blaine's eyes. "I mean, I know now that we were both to blame for that falling-out, and I can understand that she was just trying to help me, even if she went about it the wrong way, but..."

"You miss her," Blaine says quietly.

Kurt startles. "What?"

Blaine leans closer, reaching out to pull Kurt's arms away from his chest and taking his hands in his own. He looks into Kurt's eyes and gives him an encouraging smile. "I can see it in your eyes. You miss her, don't you?"

Kurt puffs out his cheeks but doesn't withdraw his hands. "She's a diva, and an annoying one at that."

"Broadway stars can be like that." Blaine shrugs.

Kurt freezes.

"Don't freak out," Blaine rushes to say, squeezing Kurt's hands. "I haven't looked into it or anything, I promise – I just heard Santana mention someone called Berry right when she was leaving, and I remembered how you were acting that one time when we were talking about that new West Side Story revival, and I just... put two and two together." He pauses, hoping he hasn't crossed any lines but still wanting to make sure. "Your friend... It's Rachel Berry, isn't it?"

Kurt's whole body stays rigid for a moment or two, anxious and coiled tight, his hands still in Blaine's grip – but then he breathes out a slow, shuddering breath, his muscles relaxing in time with the movement of his chest as if he's forcing himself to calm down. Every time this happens, every time Blaine manages to say or do the right thing and Kurt doesn't bolt or recoil away from him, he thinks that maybe he knows what he's doing after all. Maybe he's not the only one who feels more like himself when it's just the two of them, with no agents around them, no pretenses or secrets.

"I'm surprised that you still remember her name," Kurt eventually says. His fingers twitch against Blaine's.

"West Side Story is one of my favorites," Blaine reminds him and squeezes his hand with a small smile. "And I might have made a mental note of her name after you said you'd seen her in something years and years ago," he adds sheepishly.

Kurt huffs out a laugh. "Always the agent," he teases, but there's no resentment or anger behind his words.

"Kurt," Blaine ventures after a moment. "From what Santana said, she seems to miss you too. Was it... Was your falling-out for good?"

"I don't know," Kurt mumbles. He starts playing with Blaine's fingers this time, spreading them over his own hand and then slotting them together again. "I haven't talked to her in over... nine years. God, has it really been that long? Five years on the run and four years in prison, and I never even..."

"Do you want to talk to her?" Blaine asks.

Kurt laughs, but it sounds sad and a little bitter. "Blaine, I haven't even seen her in nine years. Unless you count seeing her face on posters and advertisements, which I don't. I have no idea what I'd say to her, and we would probably just end up insulting each other. Again." He shakes his head. "Let's be honest, she most likely still sees me as a petty criminal."

Something tightens around Blaine's heart, painful and cold. Every time Kurt says the word 'criminal' it sounds a lot like the word 'failure'.

"Kurt..." Blaine frees his hand and cups Kurt's face, waiting until Kurt meets his eyes. There's still that edge in his gaze, the one that's been there ever since Blaine interrupted his shouting match with Santana, and it makes Blaine's whole being ache to know that there are so many hurtful things about Kurt's past that he doesn't even know about. "She's been asking about you. That's a pretty good sign, don't you think? I mean, I only met Santana for a moment, but she did strike me as the kind of a person you wouldn't want to pester about anything," he jokes.

Kurt lets out a laugh. "Oh, but you don't know Rachel. She's stubborn, and she knows how to deal with Santana."

Blaine thinks for a moment, lowering his hand back down on Kurt's knee again. "If you don't know what you would say to her, maybe you could just..."

"Go see her? To see how that would make me feel?" Kurt finishes for him, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a lopsided smile. "That was my first thought too, when I saw those ads for that West Side Story revival and when Santana first brought this up last week. But it's still outside my radius." He taps his finger against the green light on his ankle monitor.

"Not if you have an agent with you," Blaine points out.

Kurt looks up, surprised. "Are you..."

"Just... Think about it," Blaine says. "I'm not saying that you have to talk to her, or even see her – that's your decision – but it seems clear to me that you do miss her. And if you want to go see that play, I would love to go with you. If you want me to accompany you, I mean."

"There were a lot of ifs in that sentence," Kurt grins, and Blaine is relieved to notice that his eyes don't seem that edgy anymore.

"She's your friend." Blaine shrugs. "I'll support you whatever you choose to do."

Kurt's expression turns a little dazed at that, and Blaine smiles down at him as he pushes himself off the couch, leaning in to peck Kurt's lips when he stands up. "I'll go make us something to eat," he murmurs against Kurt's mouth.

He's already halfway to the kitchen when Kurt calls after him, "Do you want to take a look at those sketches I made today?"

Blaine stops, and he can't help the way his face breaks into a smile when he turns around. Kurt is still sitting on the sofa, grinning at Blaine in that special way that makes his heart beat a little faster every single time.

In that special way that reminds him that no matter what has happened in the past, Kurt is here now, and he doesn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon.

"I'd love to," Blaine breathes out.

"Then bring me some food and we'll see what happens," Kurt replies and winks at him.

---

Three days later Blaine steps into his office after his lunch break and finds two tickets to West Side Story waiting for him on his desk.

---

It's been a while since the last time Blaine saw a show on Broadway, and when he and Kurt find their seats – very good seats; Kurt Hummel happens to be a Broadway connoisseur and Blaine didn't expect anything less from him – he looks around the space, at the patterns covering the walls, the stage lights hanging above their heads and the heavy curtains obstructing the stage. The theatre is packed, people fanning themselves with their playbills and chattering all around them, and for a moment Blaine lets himself remember those daydreams he had as a kid, of being up there on that stage and captivating the audience with his voice.

He loves his job and wouldn't change a thing, but every time he steps inside a theatre he can't help but wonder for a fleeting moment what it could've been like.

"What was the last musical you saw?" Kurt asks next to him, smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket.

Blaine turns to look at him properly, feeling his breath catch in his throat just like it did the first time he saw Kurt's outfit this evening. Kurt always looks gorgeous, no matter what he's wearing, whether it's a designer suit or an old t-shirt with paint stains and charcoal smudges, or even nothing at all – but he looks especially amazing right now in an impeccably fitting silvery gray suit, the lines of the jacket making his shoulders look even broader and the color bringing out the blue of his eyes.

He's wearing a tie instead of the usual bowtie, and Blaine definitely felt accomplished earlier when he came to pick up Kurt and the first words out of Kurt's mouth were, "I can't believe I finally get to see you in a bowtie, Agent Anderson."

Blaine presses his fingers against his bowtie with a smile and thinks for a moment. "It's been a while, but I think it was... Wicked? A year or two ago?"

"I saw Wicked as well the last time I went to see a show," Kurt reminisces. "But it was actually in London. Right before I came back to New York and got arrested for the first time in my life," he adds with a grin.

"Ah, so that's where you were hiding," Blaine comments, grinning back. He realizes that Kurt is fiddling with his cufflinks and with the sleeves of his shirt, and his smile softens. "Are you nervous?"

"Isn't this against the whole 'let's keep our relationship a secret' rule?" Kurt changes the subject, glancing around the theatre.

Blaine reaches out and squeezes Kurt's arm comfortingly. "If we happen to run into someone from the office – which isn't exactly likely because I don't think anyone from my team likes musicals as much as you and I do – we can just act the way we do at work. Even if they don't know that we're dating, they all know that we're friends."

"And friends can go to theatre together, even if they're an agent and a CI?" Kurt asks, lifting one of his eyebrows.

"Yes," Blaine stresses. "I'd also like to remind you that there's no way Rachel will be able see you from that stage, so you can calm down."

Kurt huffs out a laugh, but he does stop playing with his cufflinks, his shoulders dropping down.

The show is wonderful – it manages to get through just the right emotions that every production of West Side Story should, and all the actors and actresses show the right amount of defiance and vulnerability in their roles. The man playing Tony has a breath-taking voice, and Blaine automatically reaches out his hand towards Kurt during the last note of Something's Coming, only to have his fingers bump into Kurt's outstretched hand halfway through, both of them laughing under their breaths when they applaud after the song.

Still, Blaine can't help but pay a little extra attention to Rachel – to the way she belts out the highest notes of Tonight, the way she dances around the stage in giddy happiness during I Feel Pretty – and it's easy to see why she has gotten such praising reviews. She is so completely inside her role that Blaine keeps forgetting that the woman on the stage is actually Kurt's old friend, someone he misses and cares about, instead of a young Puerto Rican girl falling in love for the first and possibly only time in her life.

When the play reaches its finale, with Tony singing his last words in Maria's arms, Blaine is blinking tears from his eyes and cursing himself for not taking any tissues with him. He should always remember tissues when he's going to see West Side Story, but he was so nervous and excited that he forgot all about them.

He is about to lean closer to Kurt, perhaps ask him if he could borrow his pocket square, when he notices that Kurt's hands are gripping the armrests of his seat so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. There are silent tears streaming down Kurt's cheeks, visible in the soft light shining from the stage, and Blaine doesn't have to follow Kurt's line of sight to know that he's staring at Rachel.

"Somehow, someday, somewhere..." she sings quietly on the stage, holding the actor playing Tony, her voice fading out until only the orchestra is playing the last notes of the song.

Kurt's chest heaves and he lets out a sob, the sound of it lost in the music and the sniffles coming from the audience all around them, but it still echoes through Blaine's ears. More tears fall down Kurt's cheeks, and Blaine feels his heart crack inside his chest. He knows he can't take away the pain Kurt has gone through, can't take away the fissures left on his soul from years and years of being alone and on the run.

But he can still try.

Blaine grabs Kurt's hand, gently easing his fingers away from the armrest and tangling them with his own instead, holding them as tightly as he dares. Kurt startles, his eyes snapping from the stage to Blaine, unshed tears shining in his eyes – and god, Blaine loves him so much. He can feel tears pooling in his own eyes as well, but he still gives a small smile to Kurt, trying to somehow say everything with his facial expression alone, and it must work because Kurt gives him a watery, overwhelmed smile in return.

On the stage Maria is screaming at the Jets and Sharks, telling them how they killed Tony with their hate, Rachel Berry's voice breaking and shaking as she gives the best performance of her life; and in the audience Kurt holds on to Blaine's hand, his grip so tight that Blaine can barely feel his fingers, but he's not going to let go.

The show gets a standing ovation when it's over, and Blaine and Kurt finally disentangle their hands to applaud the production. Blaine keeps looking at Rachel Berry as he claps his hands, not really sure what to think about anything. When Rachel straightens up from her second bow she seems to be staring right at them, right at him and Kurt. Blaine can see her squint her eyes in confusion, but then the moment is over and she's looking around the theatre again, smiling her thanks in every direction.

"She saw me," Kurt whispers next to Blaine, barely audible over the roar of the audience.

---

They stumble inside Kurt's loft some time later, after a quiet ride back from the theatre, and Blaine clicks the hallway light on as Kurt goes straight to the kitchen without a word, loosening his tie on his way.

Blaine asked Ms. Avninder to look after Perry tonight and they don't have work tomorrow, so he shrugs off his jacket, hangs it in the coat rack near the door and toes off his shoes, looking around the apartment when he's done. Most of the loft is shrouded in shadows, and Kurt's easel is in its place in front of the window, framed by the night sky and the pale skyglow from New York's city lights. There's a new painting set out on the easel, but Blaine can't make out what it's about in the dim lighting.

He loosens his own bowtie and follows Kurt into the kitchen, his feet shuffling against the floor. Kurt is leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping from a glass of water and staring into nothing, his tie gone and the uppermost buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a pale sliver of skin.

"Are you alright?" Blaine asks carefully, leaning against the counter next to Kurt so that their shoulders bump together.

Kurt lowers the glass from his lips and turns to look at Blaine, his eyes shining in the low light coming in from the window. He looks so beautiful that Blaine just wants to lean in and kiss him, but he needs to know how Kurt is feeling at first.

Kurt takes a deep breath and places the glass on the counter with a small clink. "I'm actually more alright than I thought I would be."

Blaine wraps his arm around Kurt's shoulders and pulls him closer. "So... going to see her wasn't a bad idea?"

Kurt shakes his head, a small genuine smile turning the corners of his lips up. "No, definitely not. I mean, it was rough, and I was a bit terrified for a moment when she clearly looked right at me, but... You were right. I have missed her." He rests his head against Blaine's shoulder. "She was my best friend for years, so no wonder."

"She's an amazing performer," Blaine offers, not really knowing what else to say.

"She is," Kurt agrees. "I always knew it, but seeing her up on that stage, singing her heart out and looking so at home... I'm really happy for her."

Blaine presses a small kiss on Kurt's temple. "Of course you are," he murmurs. "Do you think you're going to talk to her someday?"

Kurt takes another breath, straightening up and looking into Blaine's eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I probably will. It's going to take time, and we'll probably hurt each other in the process, but I... It would be nice to have her back in my life, if she's willing to have me back in hers."

"I'm sure she is," Blaine assures him, thinking about that split-second moment when Rachel seemed to be staring right at them, how her eyes looked astonished and surprised even from where Blaine was standing. She didn't look upset or sad.

Kurt smiles and wraps his arms around Blaine, pulling him closer until he can seal their lips together. It's slow and sensual, but Blaine can feel the heat behind the kiss, the way Kurt's fingers are slowly tugging the back of his shirt from his pants and stroking over the small of his back. Blaine kisses Kurt's mouth one last time and then starts trailing his lips lower, mouthing over Kurt's jawline until he reaches his neck, biting gently at the tender spot right above Kurt's collarbone, and Kurt lets out a small gasp, tilting his head back and exposing his neck even more.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," Blaine murmurs against the curve where Kurt's neck meets his shoulder, trailing his nose along the hinge of Kurt's jaw. He knows what he wants to do right now, knows that the time is right and can practically feel the anticipation of it seeping into his body, but he needs to know it's something Kurt wants as well.

"I don't want you to stop," Kurt says in a low voice, pulling the last part of Blaine's shirt tail from his pants and immediately pushing his hands underneath the fabric, his long fingers mapping out the muscles in Blaine's lower back.

"No but – tell me if you –"

"I will, Blaine, I promise I will. Now can you just please keep doing what you're doing?" Kurt gasps out, his body sliding against Blaine's.

Blaine lets out a soft laugh and lifts his mouth to capture Kurt's lips again. He slowly pushes Kurt's jacket from his shoulders, never breaking the kiss, and blindly folds it over the kitchen stool with his other hand. Kurt's fingers slide from Blaine's back to his chest, loosening the bowtie all the way open and pulling it away from his collar just as he starts unbuttoning Kurt's shirt, slowly kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Bedroom?" Blaine whispers when he's halfway done with the buttons, his fingers brushing over the skin of Kurt's stomach and feeling the way Kurt shivers with every touch.

"Bedroom," Kurt repeats and starts walking backwards, pulling Blaine with him.

By the time Blaine manages to steer them towards the bed, both of them giggling breathlessly between kisses, Kurt's shirt has already fallen to the floor and Blaine's hands have moved to his belt. Kurt is working on Blaine's shirt, quickly popping the buttons and pushing it off, a frustrated noise making its way through his throat when the cuffs catch on Blaine's wrists until he yanks them free.

Blaine drops Kurt's belt on the floor and has just enough time to open Kurt's pants and push them down when the backs of Kurt's knees hit the edge of the mattress and they fall on the bed, Kurt's surprised yelp muffled by Blaine's lips. Blaine starts pushing his own pants down as Kurt kicks off his shoes, and then they're both wriggling out of their pants and trying to help each other at the same time, neither one of them wanting to separate for any longer than necessary even if undressing would probably be easier that way.

Eventually Blaine hears the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and he sits up with his legs on either side of Kurt's thighs, looking at Kurt lying almost naked underneath him as he tries to catch his breath. Kurt is breathing heavily as well, his chest rising and falling where Blaine's hand is resting over his pale skin. There's a soft smile playing on his lips when he looks at Blaine, and Blaine feels his heart fluttering against his chest, so happy and in love that he feels like he's going to burst from it.

"Hi," he breathes out eventually, stroking his hands down Kurt's sides.

Kurt snorts out a laugh, free and unguarded. "Hi yourself. Are you going to continue kissing me now, or am I just supposed to lie here and let you stare at me?"

"You're just... You're so gorgeous, Kurt," Blaine whispers but bends down to kiss Kurt anyway, his heart skipping another beat when he can feel Kurt smiling into the kiss.

"So are you," Kurt says, his hands mapping Blaine's skin from his back to his sides and arms and neck until he can cup the back of his head and run his fingers through his hair, breaking his curls free from the small amount of gel Blaine had put in them earlier that evening.

"I..." Blaine starts, swallowing and leaning away until he's hovering over Kurt. "Let me take care of you tonight," he says, searching Kurt's face. "Is that okay?"

Kurt blinks in surprise, his fingers stilling in Blaine's hair. It's quiet for a while, just their heavy breathing echoing around them and the distant hum of the city coming from somewhere far away, but then Kurt's lips turn into a small, loving smile and he strains his neck to kiss Blaine, pressing their mouths together for a moment until he flops back down on the bed, his smile looking a bit overwhelmed.

"Okay," he says, and it sounds like a promise.

Blaine smiles and leans in to kiss him again, slow and sweet, taking his time to taste every inch of Kurt's lips until he licks into his mouth, swallowing the small sigh that Kurt lets out. His fingers start drawing patterns on Kurt's skin, sliding over the fine hair on his chest, over the sensitive spots near his ribs that make Kurt tremble beneath him, over the curve of his hipbones. Blaine trails his mouth lower, kissing Kurt's chin and jawline, down his neck and over his collarbones, sucking messy, open-mouthed kisses on his chest and stomach while his hands ease Kurt's underwear over the curve of his ass and down his legs. Kurt is shivering and breathing heavily under him, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly, and Blaine can feels his eyes following his every movement, waiting but trusting.

Blaine kisses the short hairs below Kurt's navel, stroking his hands up and down his thighs, and when Kurt's breath hitches somewhere above him on the bed, he knows he should stop teasing. He slowly lowers his mouth over Kurt, taking him into his mouth, and Kurt gasps, his hips instinctively twitching up and his fingers grabbing the back of Blaine's head as if he doesn't know what to hold on to anymore.

"B-Blaine," he stutters out, and Blaine hums, knowing how much Kurt likes the vibrations it causes. Kurt moans, just as he predicted, his voice breaking in the middle of it.

Blaine bobs his head, letting his tongue slide over Kurt's cock, tasting him in his mouth, and then he inches his other hand between Kurt's legs, stroking his index finger over the tender skin until he finds what he's looking for. Kurt makes a choked-off noise, and then he's pushing Blaine's mouth off, scrambling away. Blaine sits back, immediately worried that he'd gone too far or done something wrong, but Kurt doesn't look upset – he actually looks kind of wild, rummaging through the drawer of his bedside table until he seems to find what he's looking for and throws it at Blaine. It hits Blaine square in the chest, bouncing off and falling down on the bed between them.

Blaine looks at the bottle of lube in front of him for a moment and then lifts his head to look at Kurt, licking his lips.

"You, Blaine Anderson," Kurt breathes out, his voice shaky, "are going to be the death of me."

Blaine laughs hoarsely, crawling over to Kurt so he can kiss him and pin him against the bed. "Hopefully not."

It's the first time they've done this, so Blaine keeps kissing Kurt as he preps him, nipping at his lips and taking his time until Kurt is writhing on the bed and whining out his name. When Blaine finally lines himself up, pauses for a moment and then starts pushing in, Kurt pulls him closer, wrapping his arms and legs around him until there's practically no space between them, skin against skin. Blaine can feel the way Kurt's mouth drops open against the curve of his shoulder when he presses in all the way, a warm exhale of breath tickling his skin. He pauses to take a breath of his own, his hands trembling under Kurt's back and his nose somewhere near Kurt's cheek, feeling nothing but sweaty skin and love and Kurt.

Kurt's legs tighten around him, pushing him closer. "Move," he asks breathlessly.

Blaine complies and rocks into him, pulling out and pushing in slowly, gaining speed little by little as he tries to memorize all the noises Kurt makes, all the little gasps and whimpers and half-spoken words, the way he moans Blaine's name against his lips, the way he's clinging to Blaine's skin as if he never wants to let go. His hair is damp with sweat and falling over his forehead, his cheeks flushed, and he is so beautiful that Blaine practically has to remind himself to keep breathing, to keep moving.

He snakes his hand between their bodies when Kurt's whimpers turn desperate, stroking Kurt's cock and pressing a messy kiss on his jaw at the same time, and Kurt clenches his eyes shut, moaning into Blaine's skin. His body tenses up around and under Blaine, and then he's coming, crying out softly as his fingers dig almost painfully into Blaine's back.

Blaine's hips slow down, his own breathing erratic. After a while Kurt's eyes flutter open, sated and a little unfocused but still staring into Blaine's as he pushes his body against him, even though it must feel uncomfortable, too much and too soon.

"I love you," Kurt breathes out with a smile and sucks Blaine's lower lip gently into his mouth.

Blaine stutters to a stop, staying inside Kurt and gasping against his lips, his whole world reduced to the way pleasure coils through him, the way his body bends over Kurt's and the way Kurt feels against him, sweaty and warm and here.

It takes him a while, but eventually his breathing calms down and he manages to whisper, "I love you too," and kiss Kurt's smiling lips.

---

Later, when they've cleaned up and pulled the comforter over their naked bodies, Blaine rests his head on Kurt's chest, his eyes slipping more and more closed with every blink. Their legs are tangled together under the covers, and Kurt is stroking his hand down Blaine's back, the movement making Blaine want to arch up into the touch and just stay here for as long as they can. If he had a little more energy, he would probably start humming Silly Love Songs again, but for now he's happy to twine his arm around Kurt's waist, nuzzle his nose against Kurt's skin and breathe in the familiar scent of Kurt's body.

"I sent her flowers," Kurt says abruptly, his voice quiet.

Blaine startles, frowning in confusion and tilting his head up until he can see Kurt's face. It takes a moment but eventually his tired mind manages to make sense of the words.

"Rachel?" he asks, moving his thumb over Kurt's hipbone.

Kurt nods, staring at the ceiling. "I had a bouquet of her favorite flowers sent to her dressing room. Or, well, at least they were her favorite flowers nine years ago."

Blaine hums, shifting closer to him on the bed. "Did you leave a card with them?"

"I did," Kurt admits. "I, um, didn't sign it with my name or anything, but I wrote it in a way that should tell her that it was from me." He bites his lip, his hand pausing on Blaine's back. "And I left her my phone number, so it's her move now," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Blaine smiles and strains his neck until he can brush a small kiss over Kurt's lips. "I'm so proud of you," he says in a low voice.

Kurt blinks, staring at Blaine. "What? Why?"

Blaine moves back down on the bed, propping his chin on Kurt's chest. "Because doing something like that after nine years takes a lot of courage," he explains, "and because the way you talk about her makes it obvious that she means a lot to you. So I'm proud of you for trying to make it work."

It's not something everyone would do, he adds mentally, thinking about all the birthdays he and Cooper have missed during the years, all the conversations they could have had.

Kurt must see some of it in his eyes, because his lips turn into a soft smile and his hand continues its soothing movement over Blaine's back. Blaine relaxes into the touch, letting his eyes slip closed and feeling the way his own smile stretches his cheeks.

"Thank you," Kurt says after a moment, and it sounds like he's thanking Blaine for something else as well, even though Blaine doesn't think he has done anything especially thank-worthy.

"Anytime," he mumbles anyway. The last thing he is aware of before he falls asleep is the gentle touch of Kurt's lips against his forehead.